“You’re pulling away. I can feel it.”
She doesn’t deny it, which tells me more than anything. She presses her forehead to my jaw, and I hold her. For a moment, the pantry, the untouched plates of food, and the shadows under her eyes are just details. She’s here. She’s in my arms. I just want to prolong this for as long as I can.
My phone rings. Then again. I put it on mute. Then my office line rings.
I ignore all of it.
I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised when half an hour later, two of my brothers, Declan and Ronan, show up at my front door.
Reluctantly, I usher them into my home office.
Ronan stands with his hands in hispockets, staring out the window. The mood in the room has a specific silence. The silence of men who’ve decided to confront me about something they know I won’t like and have been arguing about who goes first.
Declan must have drawn the short straw. “The Sullivan deal,” he says.
“We’ve been over this—” I begin to say, but he cuts me off.
“Patrick Sullivan called this morning. The deal is officially dead. They’re going with the Callahan group instead. Projected loss over five years—” He slides a folder across the desk. “Comes to twenty million, conservatively.”
I open the folder. The numbers are exactly what I expect, and honestly, I care very little.
“Then we find another deal.”
“Cillian.” Declan’s voice carries the weight of a man choosing carefully. “This is because you married the Murphy girl instead of Aoife Sullivan.”
He’s probably right, at least partially. It might also have something to do with the fact that a certain cocky Sullivan, who thought he could flirt with my wife at the charity gala, is now sipping his meals through a straw and will be for the next four to six weeks. But I’m not about to mention that to my brothers.
“Her name is Nora.” I close the folder. “And my marriage isn’t up for discussion.”
“Nobody’s saying it is.” Ronan’s voice is measured. “But we need to acknowledge the cost to the business.”
“Acknowledged.” I push the folder back. “Find another deal.”
They exchange a look they don’t intend for me to catch, but I don’t miss anything. I let it go.
“The Romano family has expressed preliminary interest,” Ronan says. “If we move quickly?—”
“Then move quickly. Bring me something concrete.”
Declan stands. I think we’re done. But then he adds, “She’s making you soft.”
The room goes still.
“Careful,” I warn.
“I’m saying what I’m seeing. You’re distracted. Less focused. You left the Harrison meeting twenty minutes early last week?—”
“Because I had somewhere to be.”
“Because she called.”
She hadn’t called. I’d wanted to get home to her. There’s a difference, but explaining it to Declan would require a vocabulary he’s never developed for this kind of thing.
“The business is fine,” I say. “The Sullivan loss is one we can absorb. If that changes, I’ll adjust. Until then, my marriage is not a variable in your calculations.”
He leaves without another word. Ronan lingers.
“He’s not wrong about the distraction,” he says. “But he’s completely wrong about the cause. You’re not distracted because of her. You’re distracted because you’re worried about her.”
