A chance to let the flame that was lit that night burn bright and full. But now I knew it would never work. He knew the truth, and he’d never forgive me for keeping his child from him. For not being strong enough to go against my father. Against the church.
I’d been afraid to live, afraid to love him openly. Instead, I’d lived the life that was chosen for me. Forsaking my own happiness and his—for tradition.
I’d let my fear and insecurity become my prison. And my daughter’s heartache. Even if by some miracle Cian forgave me. I knew Maddie never would.
I didn’t deserve her forgiveness.
I didn’t deserve happiness.
Not when my sins took hers away.
Chapter Three
Caity
Three days had passed with no word from my daughter. I didn’t know what to do. What could I say to her? I wasn’t like her. My daughter was strong. She was able to do things I couldn’t, and I was so fucking proud of her.
I sat at the kitchen table with my coffee in my hand and stared out the window. I hated this house. It had been my father’s. I’d told Sal I didn’t want to live here when Maddie and I moved back to Boston, but he’d insisted.
The knock on the door startled me out of my pity party. I stared at the front door for a moment before I finally set the cup down and moved to the front of the house.
I pulled the door open expecting Sal or Cian. Maybe even Mac or Duncan. What I didn’t expect was Freyja. Duncan’s new woman.
“Hi, Caity,” Freyja said in her enthusiastic voice.
“Hi, Freyja. Come in.” I held the door wide, and she swept past me.
As I closed the door, my eyes shut with it, and I laid my head against it briefly. I didn’t know what to expect. And when I turned around, Freyja stood in front of me with her arms open wide. I bit my bottom lip to stop it from trembling. And when I didn’t move, she did.
She gathered me in her arms and held me while I cried.
“Is Maddie staying with you?”
“No. She went home with Cian,” she explained.
I pulled back, shaking my head. “Of course she forgave him.” I moved to the coffeemaker and started another pot.
“There is nothing for her to forgive him for,” Freyja pointed out. “He didn’t know anything more than she did.”
I took a deep breath before spinning around and looking at Freyja. “Why are you here?”
“Because you need someone in your corner.” She shrugged.
“I don’t need someone to remind me of all the ways I screwed up my daughter’s life.”
I turned back to the coffeemaker when she added, “I think you do.”
Freyja removed her coat and sat at the kitchen table, her hands clasped together in front of her. “I’d offer to do a reading, but I don’t think you’d be receptive to it.”
“You’re right,” I snapped.
“Do you have anything to eat?”
I looked at Freyja, my mind trying to comprehend this blunt woman.
“You ran out before Duncan announced it, but I’m pregnant. It seems I’m hungry all the time.”
“Congratulations,” I offered as I opened the fridge and grabbed a bowl of fruit salad I’d made for dinner last night. Being here alone didn’t lend any motivation for cooking.
