The message shows as delivered, but no response comes. Chantal’s usually the type who is glued to her phone; she usually answers most messages and calls immediately, especially when it’s me.
But I sigh, reminding myself if she’s jet lagged she could be sleeping. Greg did mention she was tired from the trip.
I return to Sean and the Rolls-Royce idled by the curb outside, hoping I’m overreacting. It’s just paranoia left over from everything I’ve been through in recent months and my best friend is perfectly okay…
Ronan’s waiting for me in the hall when I walk through the front door of Callahan House.
He crosses the foyer in a few long strides and pulls me into a kiss before I can even set down my purse, his hands cupping my face like he hasn’t seen me in weeks instead of hours.
When he finally pulls back, his green eyes flicker with warmth. A reminder the man’s got it bad for me, even if he tried his damnedest to fight it for so long.
“I got done with work early,” he says, his thumb tracing along my jaw. “Thought we could have lunch together on the terrace.”
I raise an eyebrow, fighting back a smile. “I didn’t know my husband was so clingy.”
“That’s how husbands tend to be with the woman they’re in love with.” He says it casually, like it isn’t the L word we both held back on for so long. But though it’s special, we don’t make a big deal about it.
We’ve both drawn the same conclusion about each other—we’ve officially caught real feelings.
Love.
“Funny,” I reply playfully. I step into him, my hands coming to rest on his chest. “Wives tend to feel the same when they’re in love with their husbands.”
His lips twitch. “That include you? Are you in that demographic?”
I rise on my tiptoes and press a soft kiss to his mouth, lingering for a second before pulling back enough to meet his gaze. “What do you think?”
He grins broadly, a cocky quality about it that used to drive me crazy but now makes my pulse race. He takes my hand and leads me through the house toward the terrace.
It’s a surprisingly pleasant afternoon for early February, the sun breaking through the clouds and lighting up the sky that was once dreary. The air’s still cool and breezy, but not enough to be uncomfortable.
The table has already been set with white linens and gleaming silverware. Oona bustles around arranging plates and pouring water in her usual brisk manner.
“There you are,” she says as we settle into our seats. “I was wonderin’ when you’d be back from your shoppin’ spree. Returned with half of Manhattan in your shoppin’ bags, did you?”
“Only a quarter,” I reply with a grin.
Oona shakes her head, though there’s a fondness about her expression as she sets down a basket of fresh bread between us. “You’ve just about got the whole of Callahan House to yourselves these days, you know. What with Mrs. Callahan off on another one of her sparetreats, and Mr. Callahan takin’ a reprieve for his health.” She pauses, her brows knitting at her next train of thought. “And Lochlan bein’… well, gone. Same for Eddie. Even Cara’s not comin’ around anymore.”
Ronan’s jaw tenses, the muscle more defined. He gives a stiff nod and says, “A lot has changed around here over the past few months. Some for the worse. But there’s been some for the better too.”
He stares across the table at me as he utters the last part, my heart fluttering faster.
Oona’s lips quirk as if tempted to smile. “I’d say so. We’re still blessed. Will that be all then? I’ve got a roast in the oven that needs tendin’.”
“That’s all, Oona. Thank you.”
She nods and disappears back inside, leaving us alone with the February sunshine and the quiet rustle of wind through the bare garden trees.
Ronan reaches for a piece of bread and tears it in half, his expression thoughtful. “I’ve been thinking.”
“Dangerous pastime for you.”
He shoots me a stern look, a hint of amusement peeking through. “It has to do with what Oona said. Speaking of the house being empty… we never took a honeymoon.”
“You know what? I hadn’t really thought about it ’til now. I guess because I didn’t want to go anywhere with you.”
“Right, ’cuz you hated my guts.”
