My hands are shaking as I pull up Seamus's contact information. Not his phone number—his email. The one he uses for personal correspondence, not business. The one I've never actually looked at closely because why would I?
It's Shay's.
I can't unsee it. The writing style. The hesitation. The fear of being used that permeates everything.
I wish I knew how to be Shay in my real life.
Because Shay isn't his real life. Seamus is.
And he’s been writing to me the entire time.
He's been the person I trusted with my deepest fears and greatest hopes. He's been my friend, my confidant.
He knew. And he never told me.
Instead of saying "Anna, it's me, it's been me all along," he just... kept writing. Kept the deception going.
The betrayal is so complete, so total, that I can't even process it.
It’s not just the building. It’s everything.
How long has he known? When did he figure it out?
My phone buzzes. A new email from Shay—from Seamus—responding to what I just sent.
I can't open it.
I stand up, and my whole body is shaking with rage and hurt and a betrayal.
I gave him my hope, my vulnerability, my love and he couldn't even give me honesty in return.
I can't stay here. Not another night. Not another hour.
Luna was right. I should have listened to my instincts at that community meeting. I should have seen exactly who Seamus O'Malley was and stayed far, far away.
But I didn't.
I let him charm me and marry me and lie to me in two different voices, and now I have to figure out how to survive the wreckage.
I grab my phone and text Luna:
Can I stay with you?
I start packing before I can change my mind. Before I talk myself into believing that maybe there's a reasonable explanation for systematic deception.
There isn't.
Her response is immediate:
Door's unlocked. Come whenever you're ready. I've got wine and the guest room is yours for as long as you need it.
I'm going to pack.
I'm going to confront him.
I'm going to cry my heart out on Luna's shoulders.
Then I'm going to survive this.
