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“Ten days?”Maeve asked from her place opposite me at the table.
I drained the last mouthful from my glass of Chablis and replied, “Yep.”
Tristan finished topping his wineglass up and leaned over to give Ma a refill. “Cruisy told me there’s a lot going down at the clubhouse. They’re so busy that we haven’t been able to meet up lately either.”
I watched Tristan fill my glass, deep in thought. Maybe his words should’ve made me feel better, but they didn’t. I knew Pagan well enough to also know that if he wanted to see me, he’d find a way. All he needed to do was pick up the phone. He must’ve seen my missed calls; plus, he called most days, often more than once, depending on how busy he was.
It was obvious I’d been ghosted, and it was killing me.
I could keep pretending I hadn’t fallen in love with Pagan Sinclair and that every day of silence didn’t fill me with loss, when, in reality, my lungs ached more painfully with every minute of silence that went by. And yet, even that was easier to focus on than the constant raw sting in my heart.
“I’m not making excuses for him,” Tris insisted. “I really do get the impression a lot’s going on over there. Maybe just give it some more time.”
“Bullshit,” Mam interjected. “If he wanted to call her, he’d call.”
“Mother Maureen,” Tristan sighed. “Always tells it like it is.”
“Well, I’m not going to lie to her,” Mam declared. “If he wanted to call, he’d find a way. It’s not like he’s stuck in an office or a factory all day. The eejit can pick up a fecking phone.”
“Maureen’s right,” Maeve agreed, her gaze fixed on me. “You’re too good for this.”
I smiled warmly at her and asked, “How are you doing now?”
Maeve had been through a hard time with my eejit brother. Thankfully, he’d pulled his head out of his ass and done what he had to do to win her back, and now they were on the right track.
She blushed and ducked her head slightly. “Callum asked me last night if we could renew our vows. He wants a redo of the wedding.”
I beamed at her. “That’s a great idea.”
Maeve’s cheeks flushed. “I’d love you to be bridesmaid.”
“I’d be honored,” I murmured. “We’re gonna plan the shit out of this wedding.”
“Thank God,” she said, the relief in her voice evident. “The last one was such a mess. The sooner I can get the memory of it out of my head and replace it with new ones, the better.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I murmured. “I kind of loved it when Callum ordered everyone out of the church because they were upsetting you. I knew then his feelings for you ran deeper than he realized.”
Her face took on a dreamy look. “Yeah, that was kind ofawesome. We’re having it over at the Meadows’ ranch. They’ve got a huge barn that they’re going to start hiring out as a wedding venue. Mac promised me that ours could be the first wedding they hold there. His daughter Lexi is a wedding planner, so she’ll deal with the technicalities, but I’d love all your input with dresses, flowers, and stuff. I’m not very good at all that.” Her gaze slid to Tristan. “I know this is weird, but will you be my man of honor?”
His eyes widened with delight. “Oh my God! That’s a darling idea. I never thought of being a man of honor before.”
“Well, you are one of my best friends,” she pointed out. “And Emily, my other friend from New York, is going to fly over too, so there’ll be three of you altogether.”
Tris took Maeve’s hand in his and beamed. “I’d be honored to be your man of honor, Merida.” His eyebrow hitched. “You know this is going to be the best wedding Hambleton’s ever seen, right? With me, Mother Maureen, and Aislynn on the case, people will talk about it for years to come.”
I glanced over at Mam, who was being unusually quiet. She’d been trying to get my brothers married off for years, and she couldn’t have loved Maeve more if she were her own daughter, so I thought she’d have more to say on the subject.
But instead of her eyes being on Maeve, as I expected, they were fixed on me.
The thing about my mammy was that she was the most perceptive person I knew, even more so than Pagan (and that was saying something). Growing up, my brothers and I had never gotten away with anything because my mam could take one look at us and know if we were guilty. She never made excuses for us (except maybe Donovan, who I suspected was Mammy’s favorite son, and couldn’t do much wrong in her eyes, even when he really did fuck up). I think it was because Donovan had my grandmother’s—her mother’s—eyes, which of course Mam loved.
And right then in that moment, she knew I was breaking inside.
She set her wine glass down, reached for my wrist, and squeezed it gently. “Are you going to call him again tonight?” she asked quietly so as not to interrupt the flow of wedding conversation around the table.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat and murmured, “No, Mam. I’m done calling.”
