“You’re right. He doesn’t. What’re you going to do about him, given what you know? He’s almost your father-in-law, which I owe you a congratulations, by the way.”
I gulp hard and nervousness settles deep in my gut. “Do you? She might call this whole thing off.”
Liam gives me a knowing look. “I highly doubt that. Cormac is sour and everyone knows it, even Delilah. She pushes her feelings deep down because the man’s her father and she wants to believe the best in him. As far as how bad things are, I know it is. I know everything he’s dealing in. I have to.” Liam takes a gulp of his beer. “But, did you think you’d honestly get away with it, without Delilah knowing?”
“I thought I’d at the very least have a chance to explain myself.” My grumble earns me a harsh bark of a laugh. Glaring at Liam above the rim of my glass, I shake my head. “I thought it’d take longer for the transfer to get authorized or something. She won’t answer my calls.”
“You tortured her father, someone who she still thinks isn’t all bad. I wouldn’t answer your calls, either.” I glare hotly as Liam inhales with a slight groan and stretches his legs under the table. “Tell me you didn’t go to her place before she was ready and try to talk to her face-to-face.”
“I didn’t. Not yet. She’ll come to me, I hope,” I mutter, “when she figures out how she feels. Is she too mad at me for what I did, or is it something else? Does she really want to know? Will she accept the excuses for what I did?”
“Keeping her out of jail, from financial and reputational ruin, is an excuse?” Liam asks curiously with furrowed brows. “How much of what her father did through Knitted Hearts can be pinned directly on her? And she doesn’t have the reach to pressure anyone to keep her out of jail. I guarantee you, Keenan, that if it ever got out, he’d leave her to rot.”
“I don’t deny that for a second, but I don’t think she realizes it. I don’t think she wants to acknowledge how bad it could’ve gotten, or how close it came to blowing up, or even her father in that position. If Delilah could find it, anyone else could’ve, and she wasn’t discreet about covering her arse or why.” Inhaling deeply, I hold my breath in apprehension. “Do you have any ideas on how to get through to her other than just twiddling my thumbs in my arse?”
“I can’t think of anything other than what you’re doing now. Wait for her to decide how she feels,” Liam agrees, with trouble knitting his brows. “Maybe she just needs a little push? Whatever she feels, she has to know you love her.”
“She doesn’t know I gave up Asim to help her with the issues she was having with Knitted Hearts,” I pause, lifting my ale to my lips to catch Liam’s gaze, “or the opportunity to take him on myself, even if I didn’t actually have a shot. And making that decision was . . . easy. Really easy.”
“You give her a couple days, then start on trying to win her back.”
“That’s the plan,” I agree as I slink back in my seat and drain my beer. “Even if she won’t take me back . . . I want her to understand that, at least. How bad it would’ve been. How far her father went for his greed. And if she can’t forgive me, I’ll have to accept that.”
“That’s such bullshite,” Liam snorts roughly. “Fighting for a woman is the most noble of pursuits, Keenan.”
“I doubt she’ll see what I did with her father as noble, Liam, but I hope she does understand once I tell her the type of monster he is.” I shake my head sharply. My mind focuses on Delilah as I cup my chin thoughtfully. “She’ll give me the opportunity to explain. I just need to get her to agree to talk to me.”
“I know an excellent florist.” Throwing the suggestion in the small space between us, Liam sets down his beer. He leans back, and I turn my gaze to my phone screen. I hold my breath as I tap Delilah’s contact, and the blood drumming in my ears goes quiet. The line rings before going to voicemail, and I curse lightly under my breath.
I bite back a groan of foreboding and regret. What if Delilah and I can’t come back from this? If she truly thinks what happened at Knitted Hearts is bad, is she even capable of hearing the worst of it all? I don’t know, but I know Delilah, and she has the most caring heart I’ve ever seen. She’ll understand why I went so hard on her father once she realizes that he’s a monster.
“Sick fuck . . . I don’t know what I’d want, either. Does she take comfort in not knowing, or is it better to tell her and reveal Cormac’s true nature to her? Fuck. I can’t imagine not telling her. It would eat at my insides.” I run my hand through my hair in agitation and shuffle in my seat. Looking over at Liam, I frown when he shrugs. “Why’re you here?”
“Because I’m not so dull to believe you can handle the things you now know,” Liam declares quietly, but his tone is strong and knowing as it floats to me. “It’s a different kind of struggle than the one you’re used to, Keenan. It’s hard. You can hear about these kinds of people, but not only do you personally know one . . . he’s the father of the woman you love. How shitty that must be.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-NINE
DELILAH
Ifiddle with the engagement ring Keenan had so beautifully and sincerely proposed to me with. I swirl it around my finger. It’s snug, but not overly so. Through aching, bleary eyes, I watch it sparkle in the light. My heart hurts, and my hands tremble as I sluggishly flip the ring over and over between numb fingertips. It makes me paw at the necklace I wear every second of the day. The very necklace that he gave me to show his commitment to me after we hit that rough patch. It was in the beginning of our relationship, and I’ve never taken it off. I can’t imagine taking it off, but so many emotions run rampant through my mind.
One question that races through my mind is the only thing I can think about. The question that’s plagued me for days. How did this happen?
Hiccupping an unstable breath, I rub my nose uncaringly with the sleeve of my shirt. The ring is cold in my palm, and I scoff hoarsely before sticking it on my finger. Flexing my hands against my desk, I close my eyes and flop my head back to take a shallow, hot breath and hold it. I gulp down the dense lump in my throat and shake my head viciously. Tears well behind my eyes and my stomach coils from my nerves.
Glancing over at the clock, I rub my eyes with my fists and release a shaky sigh. The working day is coming to a close, and I prop my elbows on the desk to hold my forehead in my clammy palm. My computer is already off. My purse and coat are already waiting by the door. Hell, I’m so ready to get out of this place. Coming here while Keenan and I are going through this, well, whatever it is, has been utterly horrible. It’s hard keeping a poker face on all day long, especially since Delaney’s interning here, and she has to communicate with me on some things. It’s just been hard, and more than that, it’s sucked.
But the damned bloody clock doesn’t want to move, and I don’t want to leave earlier than necessary. No. I don’t want to go home, where my thoughts overwhelm me. Where I can’t pretend to tap around on the computer in a futile attempt to distract myself. I just want to get out of this claustrophobic place where I have to act like everything is perfect.
Keenan beat the shit out of my father. That’s a fact.
Another fact is my dad didn’t return the money until his life was threatened by my fiancé. If it were up to my father, he probably wouldn’t ever have returned the money.
A third fact, Keenan didn’t chase after me.
All three put together means something . . . but I don’t know what that is. My distracted mind can’t concentrate at all. I can’t see anything but my father’s ruined face and Keenan emerging from behind him. I remember the way he held himself up by the frame of the door, how he had cuts, bruises, and his face was swollen.
“Something in his eyes was . . . grave.” When I blink, I can see the seriousness on Keenan’s face. The things he didn’t want to blurt out in the heat of the moment. “He let me walk away. He’ll wait on me. I know the man better than anyone, or at least I think I do. From what I know about Keenan Gallagher, he’s probably giving me some space right now.”
