“No.” Gray hoped her blunt answer would end that line of questioning.
“I can’t believe Jennifer is getting married,” she announced, attempting to change the subject to his sister’s upcoming nuptials.
“Yeah,” he drew out the word, his frown never dissipating. “Is the baby’s father not in your life, Gray?”
Attempting a lightheartedness she didn’t feel, she answered, “Ha-ha, no, I seem to pick men who like to leave.”
They both cringed at her honesty.Shit.
He grasped her hand across the table. “Biggest mistake of my life,” Cannon said.
“No, asshole. Your biggest mistake is touching what is mine.”
Gray almost swallowed her tongue. Her mother had been wrong. Ciar did visit the Fitzwilliam after all.
thirty-nine
CIAR
Ciar had been watchingGray from outside the restaurant’s glass walls like the worst type of stalker. She was so damn beautiful. The sun haloed her from her head to her shoulders.
She used to be his. He used to be able to touch and hold her whenever he wanted. She used to smile at him.
She used to love him.
“Fuck,” he muttered to himself. How had they ended up here? A rhetorical question, of course. He knew where to lay the blame.
After he’d seen Mags off the night before, he walked home, needing the time to cool his head. He needed to think rationally. He couldn’t barge in on her date and demand she stay single until he decided to speak to her, give her what she needed and deserved.
Each time he argued against interfering, he immediately had a stronger argument for why he should.
He’d stared at his bedroom ceiling for hours. Looking at the stark walls hadn’t helped. He hadn’t allowed any décor to be bought or any pictures to be hung. Depressing.
The entire two floors were finished with white walls and warm wood floors. He only purchased beds for his room, Imogen’s, and Tina’s. A rocking chair for the baby's room and a couch for the living room, a small kitchen table, and a few chairs. Other than that, nothing.
He still dreamed of Gray coming in and making it a home. She’d spearheaded the opening of Gray Eyes, which had quickly become one of Dublin’s hot spots. He knew that she would use that same level of detail here.
He ignored several texts from Daniel and Jonathan, a call from Dagr, and another from his dad. He still wasn’t speaking to him after how badly things had ended between them last week.
Ciar had been hurt and embarrassed. He’d also been pissed because he knew his dad was right. Mags was right. His friends were right.
Agreeing with them was easy. Taking action, not so much. He was letting everyone vital to him down, and now here he was being a creep, watching Gray through a window, and she was about to have a lunch date with her ex-boyfriend.
Cannon Michaels. “Prick,” he muttered under his breath.
Speaking of, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A man was walking to the host stand. He looked like he was around six feet or right under. Shorter than Ciar. He supposed women might think he was good-looking. Ciar didn’t.
He sported neatly trimmed light brown hair. Gray loved scratching her fingers over his extremely buzzed scalp.
The guy looked fit, Ciar would give him that, but his clothes screamed university professor. No visible tattoos. Clearly not adventurous.
Cannon was nothing special to Gray’s extraordinary.
There was no way she would consider going back out with that guy. What the hell was he doing back in Dublin anyway?
The interloper was almost to her table. She smiled and waved when she noticed him. She began to stand, but that asshole blocked his view of her. They were hugging. It looked like he was resting his hands on her hips.
Her hands clasped his shoulders, and that was that.
