“Aye.” My voice is just above a whisper.
“You don’t look like you like it,” she replies.
“It’s just…”
My voice trails as I stare at the mirror, because I know that when I finish that sentence, it will break. But I’m tired of feeling tied up by own my feelings, hiding my emotions behind fake smiles and alcohol.
“I look like my father.”
My throat burns as the pain of that realization claws its way out. Tears prick my eyes as the pressure builds, and it feels like my head might explode.
“Oh, honey, I’m sorry,” she whispers as she hugs me tightly from behind. A small smile tugs at my lips as I stare at the ghost in the mirror.
“No, it’s…good,” I reply, a smile splitting across my face.
“Really?” she asks, and I notice her eyes are wet too.
“Aye. It’s really good.”
On the next blink, a tear spills over my lashes and down my cheek. She quickly wipes it away with her sleeve before hugging me again.
It’s incredible how just a few tears release so much pressure. Just allowing myself to express how much I miss him—how much I miss them both—feels like a slab of stone has been lifted from my chest.
Because I do. I was barely a teenager when they died, transitioning from childhood to being a man, and their deaths created a chasm in my life. In a lot of ways, I think it stopped me from truly growing up.
Never facing responsibility.
Always running from my feelings.
Afraid of commitment.
Terrified of loving again.
Trauma literally stunted my growth, but falling in love with Colin healed so much of that. And I’m not ready to let him go now. If I don’t fight for him, then what was it all for?
“I’m ready,” I mutter as I fix the collar of my shirt.
“You’re bloody right you are,” Blaire replies, wiping the tears from her eyes. “The party is just starting, so get down there. Get your man back.”
She shoves me toward the door, but I turn around quickly before she can truly boot me. I throw my arms around her and pull her into a tight hug.
“Thank you,” I whisper against her head. “And I’m sorry for being such an idiot to you before. You didn’t deserve that.”
Looking almost bashful after our hug, she shoves me on the shoulder. “You’re sweet, but no hard feelings. You’re not quite my type anyway.”
With a laugh, I kiss her on the forehead, and she pushes me in earnest this time. “Now, go!”
As I make my way down the stairs, the sounds of the party boom through the empty halls. Most of the staff is gone for the night, and I know that whatever is behind those doors is far more than a stag do. Even if it starts that way, I have a feeling it’s going to get out of hand.
But none of that matters to me now. I only have one goal for the evening.
Pierce said he wanted to watch me with his fiancé, only to claim him when all is said and done. And he can watch all he wants, but he won’t be claiming him at all. Because when I get to Colin Shelby, I intend to remind him who he belongs to.
And this time, I won’t let him go.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Declan
