Changed her will.
Changed her will.
Changed her will.
As I wander the picturesque streets with quaint little shops made of what looks like white plaster and stonework, my fretting over Aiden’s whereabouts rematerializes. Where the fuck is he? He wasn’t supposed to take this long. If he’s so goddamn worried about my safety, why isn’t he here to make sure I’m actually fucking safe?
If this were really our honeymoon, he should be here, patiently letting me look through each cute little shop and urging me to buy whatever my heart desires.
It’s then that I give in to the little devil on my shoulder. The one that tells me to send Aiden a giant fuck you for believing he’s allowed to order me around.
So while I’m browsing around the shops, I buy whatever my heart desires and pay extra to have them drop it off at the cottage. With the sheer number of purchases, it would be impossible to fit it all in our tiny little rental car. It’s an odd request that garners a few befuddled looks, but if there’s one thing my father’s taught me, it’s that money talks. I doubt my little shopping spree will put a dent in the black card Aiden gave me, but I do my level best. Maybe if he bothered to show up, he’d be able to stop me.
Really, it’s his fault I end up with stacks and stacks of books, one-of-a-kind jewelry, an entire wardrobe to fill the empty walk-in closet at his place, and wine bottles by the dozen. I treat myself to a lengthy, indulgent lunch at The Ivy Cottage in their lovely outdoor seating area, followed by a few gin and tonics at Gus O’Connor’s Pub (no relation, thank God).
I haven’t been keeping track, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I’d managed a quarter of a million dollars. A small fortune was spent on handmade merino and cashmere alone. I couldn’t resist when I learned the nearby Aran Islands are famous for their sweaters. It’s not only because they’re expensive. Maybe I love a good knit.
By the time we drive back to the cottage, I’m pleasantly worn out and slightly buzzed from the glass of champagne the lovely barkeep provided in addition to the gin and tonics, when he learned I was on my so-called honeymoon. I’ve all but stewed myself into the perfect rage for a major confrontation with Aiden, but the driveway is empty of his rental car, and the lights inside the cottage are still all off.
He’s not back yet. It’s nearly evening. How long could a conversation with Cian take? If that’s what he’s even doing. How am I supposed to know for sure?
I’m not disappointed.
Or, if I am, it’s only because I was looking forward to showing him exactly how much I don’t care that he’s not there.
After telling my bodyguards I’ll be at the cliffs—and no, they don’t need to follow me—I change into the rain boots and stomp my way through the muddy fields again toward the cliffs. I have half a mind to stay out here and lose myself in their wild expanse.
What if I never went back? What if I gave up the impossible task I’ve set myself and disappeared instead? It’s so open here, I feel almost anonymous. With the endless sea of grass and blanket of fluffy white clouds, I could be someone else other than Rory Gallagher’s daughter or Aiden O’Connor’s wife.
It’s almost dusk, but I plant myself on the edge of the cliffs and stare out into the water. I try to clear my mind of all worries, but it’s impossible when they’re so loud they drown out the sound of wind, waves, and birdsong. If I keep going down thispath, there will be no stopping me. Like an avalanche, I’ll destroy everything in my way.
I don’t know how long I sit out there, lost in the mire of my thoughts. Long enough that the chill seeps through one of my new sweaters and light jacket and for the sun to slip down until the horizon almost swallows it up. When the light around me changes from gold to lavender, I know I should head back in. I’m already pushing my luck as it is. It’s a miracle O’Connor hasn’t come back already.
I push my fingers into my eyes, hoping it’ll give me some clarity, but all I see are the impressions of starbursts over my vision.
Vertigo assaults me when I try to stand. Flailing for balance, I remember how close I’m sitting to the edge of the cliffs and how insane it is that there’s no safety fence to block idiots like me from falling to their deaths. I fall on my ass, screwing my eyes shut again and knotting my fingers in the grass as though it’ll keep me safe, nails driving into the loamy soil.
When my vision clears, I find Aiden staring down at me, one hand on my jaw, the other on the ground beside me.
“What are you doin’ out here, love?” he asks, face flushed with exertion. “How long have you been out here?”
I tell myself it’s fear that makes the bottom drop out of my stomach at the sight of him, incandescent with rage. I tell myself it’s apprehension that has my breath stuttering in my chest and my hands trembling where they go up to grip his wrist.
There are a lot of things I tell myself, and maybe if I repeat them enough, I’ll start believing they’re the truth.
“What does it matter to you? Anything could have happened to me today and you wouldn’t have even known.” If I were a smart girl, I’d learn to shut my mouth.
His eyes grow wide, and I almost smile in his face. “What does it matter to me? What does it—” He breaks off and studiesme with liquid eyes. It’s then that I notice the wound on his head, hastily put together with Band-Aids.
My heart is in my throat. “What happened?”
“It’s a long story. I’m fine. Let’s go back to the house.”
“Did Cian do that?” He doesn’t answer. “I thought we were past secrets,O’Connor. Or are you just completely full of shit?”
He studies my face for a long, long moment, as though he’s trying to decipher my thoughts written into my expression, like they’re in an unfamiliar language. “It took longer than I thought. But that’s not what you’re mad about, is it?”
I look away. I don’t know what I’m doing. Running around. Blowing money when so much is at stake. Wanting his attention?Worriedabout him? Trying to piss him off so he’ll come back to me? No man has ever driven me this crazy. I swear, I was normal before he came into my life.
