“Because I made a promise.”
“To whom?”
“I made a promise that I’d restore my family legacy, and I have every intention of doing that.”
“So, it has nothing to do with me?”
“No.”
My heart breaks, the pain almost crushes me. “I can’t accept that, Ciara. We’re married. We need to work through this, together.”
“Says the man who literally abandoned me in a restaurant! You didn’t seem to give a shit about working through things together then!”
There she is.
I keep my mouth shut as Ciara unleashes her anger on me, and I take every insult, every slicing word, not because I don’t want to fight back, but because I know this is what she needs in order to heal.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
CIARA
He’s not fighting back.
I throw verbal punch after verbal punch, but Ronan just stands there and takes it without even blinking. But his silence only fuels my rage.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?”
“No.”
He stands a few feet away with his hands in his pockets, the picture of ease except for the slight crease between his dark eyebrows.
“I trusted you…” My voice cracks as the last of my fire starts to fizzle out. “Do you understand that?”
“I did it to protect you.”
“You don’t get to decide what I need protecting from.”
He nods slowly as his dark eyes bore into me, as if he can see beyond them into my very soul.
“You’re right, and I’ve apologized for it.”
I exhale a long breath as I sink onto one of the bar stools, the last of my energy draining from me. I’ve barely slept, and the emotional toll that has come with learning of my father’strue past has left me feeling like a shell of the woman I used to be.
As I run my fingers through my knotted hair, the tears I’ve been holding back since the plane ride home from Vegas finally start to fall.
They slide down my cheeks slowly at first, but then the dam breaks, and they stream down my face and drip from my chin as I’m overcome with sobs.
My chest tightens, and I hold a hand to my heart as I try to breathe, but it seems I’ve forgotten how.
“He was myda.He tucked me in at night. He taught me how to ride a bike. He made pancakes on Sundays. And all this time he was…he was?—”
Ronan’s arms are around me in an instant, holding me against his chest and stroking my hair as the tears continue to fall.
He says nothing as I sink my fingers into the material of his t-shirt, clinging to him as my body trembles from the force of my sobs.
“What kind of monster does that to people? What kind offather?—”
Ronan pulls back and gently strokes his thumb over my cheek, wiping away my tears. “You’re not him. Do you hear me? You’renothinglike him. Your father’s choices don’t define you.”
