Page 31 of Faithless Vows

My hand closes over her shoulder before she can get away. “Why are you crying? What happened?”

She wipes at her face and draws in a shuddering breath, but she still doesn’t turn back to me. “Lana.” When she doesn’t answer, I step around in front of her, but she keeps her eyes lowered. I soften my voice. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

Her face crumples, and she finally looks up at me. “I met Kitty.”

The blood drains from my face. I stare at her, certain I heard her wrong. “What?” My voice comes out rough.

Kathleen shouldn’t be here. She has no business being anywhere near this place. Why the fuck was she talking to my wife?

“Kathleen, I mean.” Alannah’s voice pulls me back. “I met her. She told me she wanted us to get along—”

Jesus Christ. This isn’t happening. Not today. How is she even here?

Then it clicks—Sully. He’s one of Da’s guys, so of course he was on the list. Which means Kathleen must’ve tagged along with him. And she chose today of all daysto corner my wife and run her mouth. On my goddamn wedding day. My jaw clenches hard enough my teeth ache.

Alannah’s blue eyes stay on mine, wet with tears and full of hurt. When she speaks, the word comes out like a plea. “Why?”

I open my mouth. The words are right there—crowding my tongue. I want to tell her that Kathleen was a mistake—someone who never really mattered. I want to tell her she’s the only thing that does. That I’ll be faithful, that I’ll never look at another woman as long as I live.

I just need to get the words out.

I can fix this. Ihaveto fix this—if I can just—

A scoff sounds behind Alannah. My eyes flick past her and land on Danny. I hadn’t even registered him moving. I’d been too caught up in how upset Alannah was. He’s close enough to have heard our conversation. Maybe not every word—but enough.

He meets my gaze, his upper lip curling as he slowly shakes his head, then walks past us and out of the lounge—and something in me snaps.

Iwasready to crawl. Ready to beg Alannah to forgive me for a mistake I never meant to make, to say whatever I had to say to fix this.

The guilt I’d been choking on twists hard and fast until it turns bitter. Ugly. I feel my face redden in anger.

My wife shouldn’t be standing here questioning me like this. Not today. Not in front of my men.

After everything I’ve done.

After marrying her.

After giving her this day.

This is how she thanks me. Something hard settles in my chest.

I’m talking—I know I am—but I couldn’t tell you what I’m saying. The words come fast and sharp, piling over each other, and I don’t stop to check if they land. She’s still crying, and when she speaks, all I hear is accusation.

Before I know what I’m doing, my hand is on her wrist, tightening, and I pull her forward. She stumbles once, then keeps pace, whether she wants to or not. I don’t slow down. Idon’t look at her. All I can feel is the pressure building inside me, thick and urgent, like if I stop now it’ll spill out.

The music grows louder as we reach the ballroom doors—upbeat, the kind of noise meant for a celebration. Laughter carries into the hall, chairs scrape, and voices rise over the band.

The doors swing open. Light hits us, bright enough to make me squint, and the room turns toward us all at once. Faces lift. Smiles widen.

The bandleader’s voice carries over the music. “Mr. and Mrs. Byrne—”

Applause erupts. Cheers. Someone whistles.

I keep pulling her forward until we reach the bandstand. I let go of her wrist only long enough to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her tight against my side.

The clapping doesn’t stop all at once. It falters. Some people trail off, then the rest follow. The band dies away with it, and the low murmur moving through the room fades until the ballroom falls silent. Everyone is staring now, taking in the tears on my wife’s face, the way she isn’t smiling, the hard set of my jaw.

I catch sight of Da and Seamus on their feet beside their table, confusion on both their faces as they look between us.