I can’t be in this house for another second, not when my father’s memory is lingering in every room.
“Ciara, wait!” Callum holds a hand out as I dart around him and sprint toward the front door. “Please, don’t leave like this. We should talk.”
“I can’t talk to you,” I choke without turning to face him. “Not now and… maybe not for a long time.”
I don’t look back as I throw open the front door and dart across the gravel drive to where Mila’s waiting for me.
“Where are you going?” he calls from the doorway.
I throw open the car door. “Away from all of this.”
“What about Ronan?”
“The only person I want to see less than you right now is Ronan.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
RONAN
The morning sunburns my eyes as I peel them open, my head pounding so badly it feels like someone took a hammer to it.
I barely slept last night, my mind too loud to do much more than drift in and out of restless dreams that were plagued by Ciara.
I was so tempted to drive straight to Mila’s the moment I climbed into my car at JFK, but I didn’t want to give Ciara another reason to push me away.
If space is what she needs right now to process what I told her about her father, then so be it. But the timer is ticking, and at some point, she’s going to have to face me again, and when that time comes, I’m going to make sure to get on my fucking knees and beg for her forgiveness, even though I don’t deserve it.
For her, I’m willing to swallow my pride if it means getting her back because somewhere along the way, she’s become so much more than just my wife on paper.
I rub a hand over my face as I try not to focus on how quiet the house is without her.
Even my bed still smells faintly like her perfume, vanilla and something floral, and I hate that I crave that scent. That I craveher.
I reach across the nightstand for my phone to check it again. It’s been quiet all night, but that doesn’t stop me from opening up the text thread with Ciara.
Me
Can we talk?
Ciara, please call me.
I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.
Let me make this right. Please come home so we can talk.
I miss you, Tine Bhaeg.
“You’re a fucking idiot…” I shut my phone off and collapse against the pillows.
I don’t know how long I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling. But the sound of tires crunching over gravel snaps me out of my spiraling thoughts, and I jump out of bed.
Ciara?
Maybe she’s changed her mind and decided to hear me out, or maybe she just wants an opportunity to yell at me in person.
I cross to the window and catch sight of Cormac climbing out of a black SUV rental.
I ball my hands into fists and fight the urge to put them through the window.
