Orla and Declan’s brother Dermott are our witnesses.
This should be the happiest day of my life. I’m marrying Declan, the man I fell in love with at first sight. I’m having a baby. I have everything I could possibly want or need or desire. But I feel as if I’m wading through quicksand, and it’s only a matter of time before I sink completely and no one will be around to pull me back out.
We celebrate with a meal in a private room in Declan’s favorite restaurant.
I barely taste the food. I sip champagne—half a glass won’t harm the baby, Orla says. I smile in all the right places and talk about a future that I know I don’t deserve. Declan asks if I’m okay, and I tell him that it’s hormones, that it will pass when I reach the second trimester.
And on our wedding night, he undresses me, and studies me with such reverence, that I almost blurt it out right there in his bed. My orgasms come with tears. Declan kisses them and loves me gently, attentively, reminding me on repeat that it is ‘my night’.
I sleep badly, tossing and turning, staring wide-eyed at my wedding ring and the heart-shaped diamond, and feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek.
When morning comes with rain that lashes the windows, and wind that throws fallen leaves and twigs at the house as if trying to break in, my eyelids are heavy. I don’t need to look at my reflection to know that the delicate skin underneath them is dark and puffy.
“Good morning, Mrs. Byrne.”
Declan props himself on one elbow and kisses me on the lips. His smile fades though when he sees the tiredness in my eyes.
“What’s wrong, Amelia? Is it the baby?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t sleep well.” I swallow and turn away, unable to look him in the eye.
He loves me, I remind myself. He married me because we’re in love, we’re happy, he wants us to have a future together. Not because I’m carrying his child.
So, why do I feel like such a fraud?
“Hey…” He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger and turns my face towards him. “Talk to me, baby. How can I make it better if I don’t know what’s wrong?”
He smiles, and more tears fill my eyes. I feel like a walking, talking tear-making-machine these days. My head aches with the pressure of all the tears still left unshed inside me.
“We’re a team now, remember?” The love in his eyes is unmistakable. He would give me the world if it were his to give, and I’ve repaid him with lies and secrets. “You never have to doanything alone again. I’m here for you, no matter what, my sweet Amelia.”
I feel like I’ll choke if I don’t get it out of me, this secret that’s eating me up inside. It’s no good for the baby either. All this stress and tension when there’s so much happiness and joy within touching distance.
“I love you, Declan.” It spills from the heart. “I want you to know that I loved you from the first moment we met.”
The gleam in his eyes when he looks at me stabs me straight through the heart. “I know, baby. And I’ll never stop pinching myself that you’re mine. How did I get so lucky?”
My lips curve into a half-smile that doesn’t go anywhere.
“I need to tell you something. I’ve been trying to tell you since…” I suck in a deep breath; it does nothing to regulate my pulse. “…since the day of Ruairi’s funeral.”
“I’m listening.” His tone is serious.
He winds a lock of my hair around his finger, waiting for the conversation to be over so that he can spend the first day of married life spoiling me as promised.
“I met Ruairi in New York a few days before I left.”
He blinks, processing the information.
I continue before he can interrupt. “He said his name was Ryan Connor. He came into the nightclub where I was working and ordered a drink. We got talking, and…”
The way he’s watching me isn’t making this any easier.
“I swear I never knew that he was your son, until Eoghan showed me a photograph. I should’ve told you then, I wanted to, but you were grieving, and it didn’t feel right.”
“You met Ruairi.” It isn’t a question; he’s trying it on for size and seeing how it fits with what he already knows about me. “And you didn’t think to tell me.” His eyes harden. “Why not, Amelia? Why was it so difficult for you to tell me?”
“Because…”
