“I mean, from what I know of Kieran, I assume he wasn’t thrilled about the idea of being fake married to some girl he’s never met.”
“No, he wasn’t.”
“Yet, you managed to turn that situation into something real. And I’m not trying to be funny, but if you can survive that, I think you can survive this.”
“She makes great points.” Ciara smiles at Mila. “That's why I keep her around.”
Lucy leans forward and offers me a reassuring smile.
“You’re not going to lose him. You just have to give him a chance to show you.”
Ciara nods. “And keeping it a secret? That’s only going to make it harder.”
“I just…” I exhale shakily. “I want to make sure everything’s okay first. There’s no point in saying anything until I see the OBGYN, right? Once I know for sure everything’s fine, then I’ll tell him.”
I glance at each of the girls, hoping to see them nodding.
Instead, they all look unconvinced by my reasoning.
Lucy shakes her head. “Kieran’s going to be pissed if he misses the first appointment.”
“I’ll deal with that. But I think I need to do this my way.”
There’s a long silence before Ciara sighs. “Fine. But, Riley, don’t wait too long. Secrets like this have a way of blowing up in your face.”
“I know. I’ll tell him. I promise.”
But even as I say it, my stomach twists because promising is the easy part.
Following through on that promise is the part I’m not ready for.
Chapter Six
KIERAN
The lockto the storage unit gives after a few steady twists of my pick, a deafening click echoing in the otherwise empty corridor.
Holding my breath, I wait for footsteps to appear, but the unit remains quiet except for the faint hum of the fluorescent light overhead.
I slide the roll-up door just far enough up to duck under before closing it behind me. One hand instinctively goes to the weight of the gun at my back as my other pulls out my phone and switches on the flashlight. Even though I know Cormac isn’t here, my gut won’t let me relax. There has to be something here that Cormac didn’t want us to find out about, and I don’t put it past him to have the place rigged with traps.
But after scanning for any wires or red dots and coming up short, I decide to start searching.
The unit isn’t big, maybe the size of a single-car garage, but it’s crammed with boxes stacked in uneven towers. A couple of duffel bags are shoved against the back wall, and there’s a set of shelves along one side overflowing with more boxes. Most of this stuff could easily fit into one of the spare rooms at the house he’s renting, so why the hell is he paying so much to keep this place?
What did he not want me to find?
Crouching down and dragging the nearest box closer, I lift the lid.
Inside are bundles of handwritten letters, their corners yellowed with age. I pull one out and hold the torch up so I can quickly scan Cormac’s sloppy cursive. It appears to be nothing but romantic shit and sappy declarations of love, but my brows knit together.
This doesn’t seem like Cormac at all. He never let a woman hang around longer than a week and rolled his eyes whenever anyone asked him when he was planning on settling down.
I snort under my breath as I read another. I didn’t realize Cormac had a girlfriend, but from these letters, it seems that whoever she was mattered a lot to him. More than he ever let on.
I fold the letter and shove it in my pocket, not because I care about his love life but because it doesn’t fit.
Why would he keep hold of the letters he wrote rather than the ones he received? If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that the things that don’t make sense usually matter most, and I’m not willing to risk overlooking anything.
