Page 75 of Faithless Vows

I love you, Alannah. I always will.

But more than that, I hope you’re happy. Even if that happiness has nothing to do with me.

Ronin

I’m still staring at the letter when a drop lands on the page, making the ink run. I blink at it, confused, until anotherfollows, and that’s when I realize I’m crying. I lower the letter to my lap and swipe at my eyes, but the tears won’t stop. A shudder runs through me, and I pull my knees up tight to my chest, wrapping my arms around them as the box slips from between my legs and hits the floor with a quiet thud. I bury my face against my knees as a sob breaks free.

I don’t know how long I sit there on the hard floor crying, but it feels like hours. My throat burns, and my chest feels hollowed out. I cry for the girl who loved Ronin with her whole heart, for the life I truly believed we were going to build together, and for every word in his letter that might have changed everything, if only he had found them sooner.

When my crying finally eases, I lift my face from my knees and let out a shaky breath. My eyes feel swollen and sore. As I wipe at them, the letter crinkles softly in my lap, and the sound makes me straighten a little. That’s when I see the box lying on its side right in front of me, tissue paper spilled out around it. Among the white folds, a small glint of gold catches the light.

With trembling fingers, I reach down and pick up half of Ronin’s ring, resting it in my palm. I trace the woven lines with my thumb, following the pattern that once went on forever but now ends at the jagged edge. My fingers curl around it, and I bring my closed fist to my mouth, pressing it hard against my lips as another sob rises in my throat. The cut edges dig into my palm, sharp enough to hurt, but I don’t let go.

It really is broken. His ring. Our marriage. My heart.

All of it.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Alannah

The last of the snowdrops are going over along the edge of the beds, while the daffodils are just starting to push up behind them. I’m on my knees in the dirt with a basket beside me and a pair of shears in my gloved hand, working my way through the garden, dropping dead stems and old leaves into the basket as I clear space for what’s coming in.

Catríona is kneeling beside me with her own basket, doing the same work at half the speed and looking far more put out by it than I am. Every so often, she yanks up a clump of dead stems or weeds and drops it into the basket with a face like she can’t believe she’s been made to do this at all.

As I work, my mind drifts to the last of the arrangements Father Galvin asked me to help with for Holy Week. The altar linens still need checking, and I have to speak with Mrs. Kelleher about the flowers for Palm Sunday. Grandmam said the candles were already sorted, but I should probably make sure before Mass tomorrow.

At Catríona’s startled gasp, I look over and find her holding a fistful of dead leaves out and away from herself, a worm dangling from the roots. I bite back a laugh. “Catríona,” I say, “why are you even here if you’re going to hate every minute of it?”

She makes a face and drops the handful into the basket beside her. “Because I wanted to be with you,” she says, like that ought to be obvious. “And you said you were doing this, so here I am.”

Her answer catches me off guard. I look down at the stems in my hand, then back at her, and despite myself I smile. “You’re making a poor case for yourself,” I say.

Catríona only sniffs in reply and reaches for another handful of dead stems. I turn back to the bed in front of me, still smiling to myself.

Nearly an hour later, I’m crouched beside one of the shrubs, clearing out the old growth caught beneath it, when I hear the garden gate click. I straighten and look up. Finn is crossing the yard with his hands in his pockets. When he sees me looking, he smiles.

“You’re late,” Catríona says at once, like she’s been expecting him.

Finn only gives her a look. “I’m here now.”

She straightens and dusts off her gloves, making a production of it even though they’re barely dirty. Then her eyes flick between us, and the corner of her mouth lifts. “Well,” she says, “I’ve just remembered Mam is expecting me.”

I stare at her. “You only remembered that now?”

“Aye,” she says easily. “Funny how that happens.”

Finn huffs a laugh under his breath, and I look between the two of them, suddenly wondering what exactly they’re up to.

Catríona gives me a quick, knowing grin, then turns for the gate. “I’ll see you later, Lannie,” she says lightly, and keeps walking before I can answer.

I watch her go, then look back at Finn. “What am I missing?” I ask.

Finn gives a careless shrug. “You know what my sister’s like. Once she gets a notion in her head, there’s no stopping her.”

That pulls a small smile from me. His eyes meet mine, and his voice softens. “Well, now that it’s just the two of us, I was wondering if you might want to come into town with me. Tea’s on me.”

“All right,” I say. “That sounds nice. Let me go and wash up a bit, and then we can go.” He gives a small nod, and I leave him in the garden before heading inside.