“I know you’re acting crazy and possessive for no reason. I’m trying to be professional about the situation, and you’re talking about ruining a man and a company on a jealous whim. If you can’t see how that is fundamentally, morally wrong, then there is something very wrong with you.”
“He’s fucking single, and he wants you!” he roars. “If you think I’m letting you work with him, when he has a blatant agenda, you’re the fucking crazy one!”
“What agenda?” I yell. “He was expecting Melissa. He didn’t even know I’d be here.”
“Oh, come on, darling. Please don’t be this naïve. I checked, and Mandy sent the email. He lied about receiving it. He’s known all along you were coming.”
“He wasn’t lying. I saw his face. He was as shocked as me!”
“He was acting! He’s plotting something, and he’s not fucking doing it on my watch.”
“You don’t know him like I do. His reaction was sincere. I bet it’s like he said. It went missing or ended up in junk. He didn’t know, Seán. I know he didn’t know.”
“He’s playing you again, and you’re falling into the same old trap.” A look of disgust washes over his face. “You’re an intelligent woman, Astrid, so why is it you turn into such a dumb blonde when it comes to this guy?”
I cannot believe he just said that to me.
“Get out.” I’m shaking all over, and my fingers twitch with the urge to slap him. I abhor violence, and I never want to raise my hand to anyone, but boy, am I tempted now. “Get out, Seán, before we both say something we’ll regret.”
62
ASTRID
I’m still fuming in the days that follow, and Seán and I are barely speaking. He feels justified in speaking to me how he did because I’m being naïve and someone needs to tell it to me straight. His words, not mine. At least things have settled at work. After the meeting with Travis and Callan yesterday morning, I got Seán to agree to drop all talk of firing GH Construction. Riley and Dave are my on-site points of contact from now on. It was a good solution to the situation we all find ourselves in. My fiancé has promised he won’t do anything to my ex, but I’m not sure I believe him.
I’m seeing a side of him I don’t like.
It’s not that I don’t understand. I’d be butthurt if the tables were turned, but it still doesn’t give him the right to speak to me the way he did, and stubbornly refusing to apologize for “speaking the truth” isn’t helping either.
By Wednesday evening, I’m sick of the tension between us, and I decide to reach out the olive branch first. So, I stop by the store on my way home from work to pick up groceries for a romantic dinner.
I climb out of my new rental and grab my purse before locking the car and striding toward the entrance. After grabbing a basket, I turn around, coming face-to-face with Roni Hunt.
“Astrid. I heard you were back in town,” she says, but I scarcely hear the words because my gaze is fixed on the little girl with long black hair clinging to Roni’s hand. A messy lump clogs my throat, and my heart is pounding like crazy. Hazel eyes stare back at me from behind long dark lashes, and it’s like looking at her father. Except for the hair, Darcy is the spitting image of Callan.
Guess that blows my theory out the window.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what Callan said when he dropped me home Monday night. I had wondered if the child wasn’t his and whether he only found out later. Of course, that theory raised other questions, but it was off the mark anyway. There is no doubt Darcy shares Callan’s DNA.
“Darcy, this is Astrid,” Roni says.
I snap out of my fugue state and raise my eyes, appalled I was just staring at her like that and ignoring whatever Roni was saying to me.
Compassion splays across Roni’s face. Apart from some fine lines around her eyes and a few extra pounds, she has barely changed since I last saw her. She looks good. “Astrid’s family were our neighbors,” she continues, smiling affectionately at her granddaughter. “And she knows your daddy.”
“I know, Nanny,” she says in a much quieter tone than the tone she used on the call with Callan the other night. She presses her body against Roni, holding on to her for dear life as she looks up. “Daddy has lots of pictures of her in his bedroom,” she whispers, but it’s loud enough for me to hear. “I found them in his drawer, and he said she was the one who got away.” Her brow creases. “What does that mean, Nan?”
I’m rooted to the spot, staring in shock at Roni. Her gaze flits to mine for a second before lowering to her granddaughter. “You need to ask your daddy about that. Let him explain.” Roni hugs the little girl to her while looking at me. Her eyes fill with tears. “It’s so good to see you again, Astrid. You look so beautiful.”
“Like a fairy princess,” Darcy whispers, glancing at me for a second before burying her face in Roni’s skirt.
“She’s a little shy meeting new people.” Roni bends down to kiss the top of her head. “But she’s such a good girl.”
I realize I haven’t spoken a single word, and I clear my throat. “She looks like Callan.”
“Yes.” Roni nods, trying to convey something with her eyes. “And her cousin Rory. Dara’s five-year-old.”
“How is Dara? And Erin and Tony?”
