Page 75 of Wicked Ruin

“I'm not married yet, am I?”

“Declan. We shouldn't⁠—”

My shoulder screams, but I reach for her because it’s too painful not to. I frame her face in my hands and bring her mouth to mine. She tastes like sunshine and something I have no right to want when she kisses me back—resting on the bed, careful of the stitches, careful of everything.

Not ten seconds ago, my fiancée walked out that door. If she saw this… If she understood what this means, what it has always meant…

I can't help it. I won't. I love her. I have loved her in the particular, agonizing, carefully managed way of a man who has spent years believing that love, in the right hands, can be made to behave itself. I have spent years being wrong about that.

But we can’t. We shouldn’t. If we’re found out and we break this deal…

She makes a sound I barely recognize, low and broken, and then we're pulling apart. She’s on her feet before I can reach for her again.

“We can't ever do that again,” she says. “Declan, please don’t make this any harder than it already is.” Her voice is steady, but her eyes aren't. She wipes at them quickly, like she's hoping I won't notice. “Never again, Declan. I—” She rests her hand on her belly protectively, as if to hold herself back from me. “We can’t do this ever again. I have to go.”

Then she turns and walks out the door.

The room is very quiet as I lie back against the pillow. I stare at the ceiling until the shapes stop moving, then I reach for my phone.

Cavin picks up on the second ring.

“You alright, brother?”

“No,” I say. “Get me the fuck out of this place.”

Chapter Seventeen

BRIDGET

I try to throw myself into my work, which is not very easy when everything in my entire life basically involves the McCarthy family. “I think I need to find something else to do,” I tell Erin one day, but then I have one look at my pregnant sister—who is my entire world at this point—and I shake my head. “Ignore me. I don't know what I'm talking about.”

“Hey, why do you want to find something new? Are you bored, or are you…”

And of course I can't tell her it's because everything reminds me of Declan. That I'm dying a slow death, pining away while I'm carrying his baby. I know I can't. “No, I like it,” I say. “I just feel very dependent on you. You and Cavin have done so much for me, and I need to be on my own a little bit, more than just having my own flat, you know?”

“I do know. Is there anything I can do to make it better?”

I don't answer her because the real question is: How long can I hide this pregnancy? I’ve always been absolute shite at keeping a secret, and now I feel like I’m going to burst at the seams. I'm going to have to lie at some point, or leave, and I don't know which is worse.

I wish things were different. I wish I could delight in being pregnant at the same time as my sister—what are the odds? But I can't. I know I can't.

“It's just that everybody's lives are changing but mine, you know? You're having a baby. Bronwyn's graduating, then she's going traveling. Kyla’s got that serious boyfriend now. You and Cavin are married, Ashland and Bianca…” My voice catches when I say the last name. “And Declan’s getting married and all.”

I turn away from her because I'm a serious fucking wreck.

“I understand,” Erin says, but the little divot between her eyebrows tells me she isn't sure she does. “Maybe… go on the apps. Date or something?” she suggests. “Bronwyn found the man she's seeing on one.”

“What's that?” Cavin says as he rounds the corner. “What did you just say?”

“Oh, nothing. Mind your own damn business,” Erin says, her face going pink, as if she's said something she wasn't supposed to let anyone hear and now regrets it. “You weren’t supposed to be home already.”

“Honest to Christ, Erin, if you're hiding something about my sister⁠—”

“Not everything is for your ears, Mr. McCarthy.” She draws herself upright, arms folded across her chest, glaring at him. She’s the cutest pregnant woman I've ever seen in my life.

I look away. I haven't given myself the space or grace to think about what it really means that I’m carrying Declan's baby. Because it’s not just Declan's baby… This child being knit together in my womb, with every second that passes, is mine.

A lump rises in my throat, and I swallow it hard.