“It’s not getting off to a good start, so you better put extra effort into flattering me,” I say playfully. Keenan smiles in a strained manner, but I can tell he’s taking me seriously, which is a very good thing.
This restaurant is gorgeous, it takes my breath away. The cozy atmosphere is warm and intimate. We sit down, the tables appropriately spaced for quiet conversations. Keenan looks at me, rakes his eyes up and down my body, and sucks in a sharp breath. “You look really good. I haven’t seen you in this dress. It’s new?”
“I just saw it earlier this evening. I went for a walk to clear my head, and I just . . . had to have it. Like it’d solve my problems,” I reply sheepishly, suddenly self-conscious about my impulse buy. Keenan smiles warmly.
“It looks amazing on you, Delilah.”
The silence fills the space between us as a little as awkwardness sets in. What the hell do I say now? Are we just going to compliment each other all night? “Um, we should talk about us.”
I hide a wince. Keenan arches a brow quizzically, and I lick my lips nervously. “About . . . us. Our relationship, about how we see things going, I guess.”
“What about it?” he asks innocently. Oh, I guess he’s putting this conversation on me. Sure, we’ve talked about being a couple, but we haven’t discussed being together long-term or what that would mean. I know things are getting more complicated and all I want to do is be more prepared.
I see myself being with Keenan for a long time, and I’m hoping what I say to him tonight will help him see that too. I just hope he feels the same way as I do.
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
KEENAN
Ithrow myself onto the sofa and stretch out my legs with a groan, kicking off my shoes in the process. Nothing can ruin my mood, and I lay down on the couch and release a massive sigh. Delilah admitted to wanting something even more serious with me. Sure, she’s already my girlfriend, but she fully stated she sees more than just being my girlfriend in the future. Things have moved quickly between the two of us over the last few months. Granted, we’ve gone through literal hell together. A childish giddiness grips my chest in a vice. My lungs quiver as I inhale deeply. Now that she’s in my life the way she is, I don’t think I could ever imagine her out of it.
I haven’t gone about my concerns the right way. Delilah is stubborn as shite. She won’t quit Knitted Hearts without making every move she can to avoid it. It’s frustrating as hell, but her determination to be successful is one of the many things I love about her. Even though history seems to be repeating itself in a sense, she’ll always give her father the benefit of the doubt. I haven’t asked her what she thinks about this in regards to her father, but I know other things he’s done. No matter how many times her arsehole father lets her down, she will never do the same to him. That loyalty she has is as admirable as it is faulty. I’ll never say that to her face, but the truth can be cruel.
Delilah made it clear in the car that if she wants my opinion, she’ll ask for it. But still, my worry persists. I sit up and rub my face as her words echo through my ears. She knew, but did she really understand the magnitude of what she’s dealing with? If I ask her, she’ll probably slap me. Not that I wouldn’t deserve it. I’d never ask things like this before I was privy to my family’s businesses and ventures, but now I find myself questioning so much.
This isn’t my problem. Delilah is capable of handling herself, and me worrying for her will only stress her out even worse. I scowl darkly as I prop my elbows on my knees. I rub my mouth with my palm. She’s in trouble, though. She’s been in trouble for a while now. Being my girlfriend doesn’t change how bad her situation is.
In fact, our relationship might even limit what I can do to help. I straighten as an alarming thought crosses my mind, but I shake my head. There’s no bloody way Delilah would ever be with me if I ordered a hit on her father, but it doesn’t mean the bastard doesn’t deserve it. He’s funneled millions of euros away from children who genuinely need it. Sick fucker.
Keeva’s question bangs against the sides of my skull. Who can we ask for help? We can’t go to the police. I purse my lips and take my phone out of my pocket to stare at the black screen. There’s only one person I can call on, the same person I’d call if I wanted to make Delilah’s father disappear. As much as I don’t want to call him, I need to.
I hesitate before shaking my head viciously. Navigating to Liam’s contact, my thumb hovers over my screen. For a moment, I debate on whether or not I should actually do this. Doubt creeps up the back of my neck, but I tap on his number and hope for the best. Holding my phone to my ear, I lean back on the sofa to stare at the ceiling. I seem to do that a lot lately.
“Keenan? How’s it going?” Liam asks.
“Hey, going good. Just wanted to talk to you about something,” I answer him honestly. “Listen, Liam . . . you know I’ve been having a shite time here recently trying to accept all the changes going on in my life. If I feel like something’s shady, what am I supposed to do?”
“Ah, do you have proof something’s going on, or just a feeling?” he questions, and I close my eyes.
“Just a feeling, mostly, but it’s a strong feeling. For argument’s sake, let’s say. . . I saw something that didn’t sit right with me. I saw with my own eyes, but my gut is telling me there’s some huge thing going on. If I open that door, I know there’s something on the other side that I might not be able to handle.”
“I think it’s great you acknowledge what you can and can’t handle. That’s the first step of being a good leader,” Liam starts, and I run my hand over my face. “If you don’t know if you should open the metaphorical door, then you shouldn’t. There are some things you can ignore, some things you’re better off ignoring. If my gut tells me to stay away, I’ll stay away and pretend I never saw what I saw, but I’m not exactly the best man to be asking this question. Most know what I’m capable of, and if they don’t, they’re bound to find out.”
“But wouldn’t that cause a lot of issues down the road? If the person gets in trouble, and it comes out that I saw something?” I sound juvenile. I sound like an idiot. Liam sighs thoughtfully while I’m sure he’s realizing this question isn’t even about me. The more I talk, the more fucking stupid I sound. What am I even saying? I should just come out and tell him it’s about Knitted Hearts.
“It depends. If you only saw something shady that one time, it doesn’t really matter. But if you follow your gut and stumble on something big, and then neglect to tell anyone . . . it makes you look really bad when the guy gets caught. Makes you look like you’re an accomplice.” Thoughtfulness softens Liam’s tone, but this doesn’t make me feel better. Can Delilah handle this? Fuck, I hope so. “If you wait too long, see too much, know too much, you’re kinda screwed. But like I said. It depends on what you saw and what you know.”
“Hypothetically, say I saw someone steal from a till. Nothing too much, but let’s say every customer that comes through, it’s another few.”
Liam is quiet, thinking. A cold sweat breaks out under my shirt. I switch my phone to my other ear to clench and release my palm.
“I’m going to hazard a guess and say this person works at a thrift store?” Liam asks, and I tense. “Is this about Delilah’s father skimming from Knitted Hearts?”
“You know about it?” I ask, and Liam cackles.
“Of course, I do. Keenan, you think something like that is going on, and I wouldn’t know about it? Come on, I’m offended. I know about a lot that happens in Northern Ireland, the same way I know what happens in Ireland. I have eyes and ears everywhere, dear cousin, and I mean everywhere.”
“Well, you could’ve clued me in. Fuck, trying to explain this and get advice from you has been quite a task.” Talk about being embarrassed. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this embarrassed in my entire life.
