And for a second… I forget everything.
I forget the cologne.
The sweaty dress.
The pinched shoes.
My mother’s sharp, needling voice.
Because the McCarthy estateisstunning.
It swallows the landscape… swallowsmewhole.
“Property’s worth fifty million euros,” my da mutters.
“I can see why,” I say with a sigh.
My mother rolls her eyes, lips pursed tight.
“Mam, I thought you were friends with Caitlin McCarthy?”
“I am.” She clears her throat. “She’s a very nice person… but she didn’tbuildthis or anything.” She waves a hand toward the house.
“No one said she did,” I reply, giving her a look. “What a weird thing to say.”
“She’stoonice,” my mom mutters. And I know exactly what she means.
She doesn’t play games. Doesn’t bluff or bite.
Good.
Caitlin and I are probably going to getalong just fine.
“Fifty million euros,” I say again, shaking my head.
“They say it was worth eleven when the McCarthy family bought it,” Da adds. “When Keenan McCarthy became the head of the clan, they expanded it so family could stay close. Close-knit clan, they say.”
Indeed.
“All of them still live here?” I ask.
“Some moved on. Some live in the nearby village. But yes, a few still have residence here. Bronwyn. Kyla. The single lads. And though Seamus has a place with his wife… Cavin’s still here.”
My blood goes cold.
Cavin fucking McCarthy.
The boy who made me cry in bathroom stalls.
The man who carried me out of a bombing like I weighed nothing. Like I was something precious.
My pulse kicks up just thinking about his hands on me, his voice in my ear.
Christ, what’s wrong with me?
Great.
“Why is he here?” My voice tightens. “Isn’t he, like, twenty-eight?”
