“I’m pregnant.” I blurt it out before the words get stuck inside me again.
Carol blinks like she has grit in her eye. “Okay, for one crazy moment there I thought you said that you’re pregnant.”
I don’t speak.
“But you’re… You’ve always been…” Carol is rarely lost for words, and when she is, it’s because she’s mentally running a marathon around the current problem in her head. “Okay… Who’s the father?”
This is it. This is the point where I tell her everything. But I feel decimated from the first big reveal, without hitting her with the absolute blinder that’s making my head pound twenty-four-seven and keeping me awake at night.
“Oh. My. God,” she says before I can engage my brain with my mouth. “I fucking knew it. I should’ve realized the first time you mentioned him, but I told myself you were too sensible to letanything like that happen. And I was wrong. And here you are. And what the fuck is the asshole going to do about it?”
I balk at her calling Declan an asshole. If anyone is the asshole in this situation, it’s yours truly, hiding away in the stables with her big fat secret lodged inside her chest.
“I haven’t told him yet.” I’m glad I never mentioned Ruairi. “He isn’t here.”
“What? Where is he then? Sounds to me like the fucker got what he wanted and is out there living his best life while the gorgeous young housekeeper is keeping his bed warm at home.”
“It isn’t like that, Carol.”
“No? Tell me how it is then because I’m dying to hear.”
I’d forgotten how aggressive Carol can be sometimes. But the pounding in my head could do without the accusations, so I shove all thoughts of Ruairi aside and simply say, “I’m in love with him, Car.”
“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, Mia.” Her voice has softened, and some tiny spiteful part of me that’s currently hormone-crazy hopes that she feels guilty. “You’ve got it bad, girl.”
I swallow the painful lump in my throat. No matter how hard I try, the Ruairi situation isn’t going away, but I really need my best friend on my side right now. “He’s amazing, Car. I’ve never felt like this before.”
She inhales deeply. “When you said you were going to Ireland to find your roots, I didn’t think you were going to plant some.”
I slump against Sheriff’s neck; Carol and I are okay again.
For now.
“What about Ireland’s answer to George fucking Clooney though? Does he feel the same way about you?”
“Yes. He wants us to be together.”
I watch Carol puff up her cheeks and release a slow, steady breath.
“I know what you’re thinking,” I get in before she does. “He’s grieving for his son. This is some kind of reaction to his loss, but you’re wrong.”
She arches an eyebrow and waits for me to continue. I was right anyway.
“This happened before Ry-Ruairi died.”
“When is this baby due exactly?”
I hold my breath and say it quickly. “July.”
“So, he literally knocked you up within days of you arriving?” The accusation in her tone is unmistakable.
“Who knocked who up?” The voice belongs to Jonah, and a coffee cup appears on the screen.
“No one.” Carol doesn’t even look at him. “You’ve got to tell him, Mia. Soon. And don’t you dare go doing anything foolish without speaking to me first.” She rubs a hand down the side of her face. “You haven’t told your mom yet, have you?”
I shake my head, and Sheriff nudges my face with his nose.
“Speak to her, Mia. She’s been there and got the T-shirt, remember. She’ll want to know. She’ll want to help.”
