I miss the way Seamus looked at me over morning coffee. I miss his rare, rusty laugh and the way he absently reached for my hand while we watched people play chess in the park.
And I miss Shay—the version of Seamus who could be vulnerable and honest and real in ways that the CEO persona never allowed.
The friend who listened without judgment, who offered insight without trying to control outcomes, who made me feel seen and understood in ways I'd never experienced before.
Except it was all a lie.
Or not a lie exactly.
Shay was real. Seamus was real.
And when I realized they were the same person, I didn’t know what to do with that.
And in a way, I was doing the exact same thing. Writing as Anna and living as Rosanna.
Luna catches me staring at my inbox that evening.
She gives me a look and I close my laptop.
My hand lingers on the laptop, and I wonder what he's saying in those emails. Whether he's apologizing or explaining or begging me to come back. Whether any of it would make a difference if I let myself read it.
"He signed the retainer," Luna says, and I look up sharply. "For the advocacy group. My contact at the city planning office said the funds came through yesterday. Full amount you requested, no strings attached."
Luna watches my face carefully.
"That doesn't sound like a man trying to control you, Rosie."
I look away.
The retainer should feel like a victory. It should feel like proof that Seamus is trying, that he's willing to support my fight even after I left. But all I feel is a hollow ache in my chest and the terrible certainty that it's too late.
Too late for the building, probably—even with legal intervention, the timeline is too aggressive and O'MalleyMart has too many advantages. Too late for us, definitely. Because signing a check doesn't undo months of lies. It doesn't prove he's capable of the kind of trust and vulnerability that real love requires.
It proves he listened.
Even after I walked out.
"I broke it," I say to Luna one night when we're sitting on her couch with wine and takeout containers. "Whatever we had—whatever we could have had—I broke it when I left."
Luna studies me for a long moment.
"You want the honest version?"
I nod.
"He should have told you sooner. Absolutely."
Luna’s voice stays steady.
"But he was scared of what would happen when you found out… and you did what you always do when you’re hurt."
She meets my eyes.
"You ran."
She softens.
"You loved him as Shay because it was safe. You loved him as Seamus because it was worth the risk. The moment those two versions merged, it got real. And real is terrifying."
