“Dagr told them that their oldest brother gave him permission, which made the table burst into laughter. I’m happy that Bébhinn and her family are finding things to laugh at again.”
“I got the wedding invitation in the mail for Bébhinn and Dagr. They decided on the end of May. I’m surprised it’s not before then, honestly.” Mags only shrugged.
The food arrived, and his dinner companion tucked in. Ciar mentally groaned. She clearly meant to finish her dinner before resuming any small talk.
Eventually, the server cleared their plates. He refused any more small talk and folded his hands in his lap, willing to wait patiently.
“Gray said that when you two met at your place, you didn’t try to explain anything about the reason why you cut her out of your life or why you lied about having a child.”
The waitress had just set down fresh drinks on the table. He was tempted to down his in one go. “I tried. I…” he paused, taking a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks, and exhaling slowly.
“My nanny interrupted us. Twice. Gray said she wanted to be friends, or something akin to that, and then she was running for the door before I could get anything out.”
Mags flicked the top edge of her rum and Coke’s crystal glass, annoyance and perhaps anger darkening her features. “Bullshit. Lie to yourself, Ciar Murphy, but don’t fucking bother me with that load of shit,” she hissed across the small table.
“You’re trying to tell me that if you had wanted to, truly wanted Gray to hear the truth, that you wouldn’t have made sure it happened. I don’t buy it, none of our friends buy it, and though Gray never speaks about you anymore, I know she didn’t buy it either.
“Truly, I think she believes that you never cared enough about her to begin with and that you think she doesn’t deserve answers.”
Ciar felt sick. She was right, of course. He hadn’t wanted to tell her the truth, so he hadn’t. He still didn’t want to.
Mags put her hand palm up on the table, and when he didn’t do anything, she demanded, “Take my hand, dumbass.”
He hesitantly clasped their hands together and felt his cheeks redden in discomfort. “Ciar, listen to me. As your friend, hear me. I may fly off the handle at times, but I know you as well as you know me. You are hiding something, and it’s hurting two of my best friends.”
She clapped her second hand over his, tightly sandwiching them together. He was all too aware that this conversation all but mirrored the one with his father the week before.
Ciar felt months of suppressed emotion prick his eyes. He turned his head to the side and willed the moisture to reverse.
“Ciar,” Mags said gently. More gentle than he’d ever heard from her. “You love Gray, and she loves you. Not that I can understand why, as you are the biggest douche I’ve ever met, but still, she does. She told you in Colorado, and you didn’t tell her back.
“I won’t ask you why because I know that you don’t know. I’ve not wanted to interfere between you two, but…your chances to make this right are coming to an end.”
He did look at her, then, trying to decipher what she meant by that. “Why do you say that?”
She patted his hand one last time before pulling her hands back. “Gray will be back in town tomorrow to meet someone for lunch.”
Oh Christ, no. “Who?” He all but shouted the question, drawing attention from nearby tables and servers.
“Cannon Micheals.”
The name hit him like a bomb detonating in his chest. He knew that name. Her one and only boyfriend before Ciar.
The one man she’d loved before him and had only broken up with because he moved to America.
“Gray doesn’t love him anymore. She said she loved me. She told me to my face that she did. Fuck that cunt, Cannon.”
“Ciar. Settle down,” Mags warned, glancing at their audience. “I’m usually the last person to give a shit about public appearances, but you happen to own this swanky place. People will talk.”
“Why?” he finally ground out, lowering his voice, though the business was the least of his concerns.
She gave him a pitying look before folding her napkin and placing it on the table next to her empty drink. “You threw her away months ago. How long did you expect a gorgeous woman like Gray to stay single?”
She stood and smoothed her dress. Before she could turn and leave, he asked, more like begged, “Where?”
“Fitzwilliam Hotel.”
thirty-eight
