“I don’t want to jump off the deep end of what ifs. I did warn Gray that Ciar might have trouble sharing his feelings. He didn’t grow up with any women in his family home, and the mother that raised him until he was seven or eight wasn’t…good.
“This could be just one of many growing curves for them. I don’t want to jump in all mother bear to save the day, but I would appreciate it if you could see what your girls find out. I’ll call Rowan this afternoon. I doubt Raven and River know anything unless Row shared something with them.”
“We’ve got your back with this, Jo,” Catriona said.
“And we’ll keep it from our husbands, because those bromancers will spill to Thomas first thing,” Aileen huffed, shaking her head in exasperation, even though the three women loved that the men were so close.
“Thanks, you guys. I know Gray needs her privacy, but I think we can all agree from our past mistakes, that it might not be the best thing.”
twenty
TWO MONTHS AFTER COLORADO
CIAR
Imogen Alya Murphy.That was the name of Ciar’s two-month-old daughter sleeping soundly in his arms. Alya was his aunt’s name from Russia, and Imogen was Gray’s middle name.
He hated his mother most days, but she did give him away when times got too tough. His Aunt Alya dredged up many unhappy memories of his mother, but it was also a name that represented some happy times, too, and he wanted something good from his first life to touch his daughter.
His father had been a new beginning for him when he needed it most.
He wanted to be that type of safe haven to the sleeping child happily nuzzling his chest. As much as he wanted to break and run back to his family and friends—to Gray—he would take any and every punishment for Imogen.
Except he felt like he was slowly dying. His paternity leave ended in two weeks, and then the grumpy, silver-haired nanny he’d hired would be Imogen’s primary caregiver during the day. Tina already lived with them, making his transition from man to father bearable.
She was a ball-busting hellion where he was concerned, but an absolute angel to his daughter, so she stayed.
He hadn’t seen Gray for four weeks. One month had passed since his heart was ripped to shreds. He’d been placing plasters on his lacerated chest for weeks in the hopes of surviving another day.
Gray had refused to respond to all personal or impersonal communication since the day he left her bedroom to fly to London for Imogen’s birth. Not that any of the messages contained any truths.
Marie had taken two days to recover in the hospital before booking a flight to Russia to see her husband. They had been separated for almost a year. Marie and Ciar had signed the solicitor’s documents twenty minutes after Imogen had made her screaming way into the world.
Marie’s stated that she had given up all rights to her child. His said that he was the father and sole caretaker.
He’d tried to get Marie to look upon her child even for a moment. She refused. It killed him to imagine what this conversation might look like when his daughter was older, but knowing his own past and how it had colored his decisions, he couldn’t fault Marie for her stance.
Everyone grieved differently.
He was euphoric each time his eyes met his daughter’s dark ones, so much like his own. He was equally despondent over the loss of Gray.
His best friends, Daniel and Jonathan, didn’t know what was going on. They offered him support, but Ciar knew they were disappointed his actions had caused Gray such grief.
He didn’t blame them. They didn’t ask for an explanation for why his relationship with Gray had fallen apart, and he didn’t offer one.
The only news he had of Gray and the pub was through his father and uncle. He knew that she had stopped all construction on the home he’d bought them, but he had rehired all the contractors to finish the work.
Hope was an emotion he clung to for dear life.
He missed Gray MacGregor. He missed everything from her sharp wit to her smile, her soft lips, and her arms wrapped around him. She gave the best hugs.
He missed how she looked at him, as if he were her world.
He missed her love.
And she did love him. She’d told him several times, and she wouldn’t lie. He was the liar.
Gray thought the worst of him. He thought the worst of himself, but Christ, he wanted her back.
