Page 51 of Ruthless Claim

She is nothing like Emma, which has always baffled me.

Emma takes up every room she walks into and has never once in her life made herself smaller for anyone.

Emma got her looks from Teresa and her father’s explosive temper, but her personality is from somewhere I’ve never been able to identify.

Some recessive gene for sheer bloody-mindedness.

Teresa sees me first and her whole face changes.

“Cillian.” She comes to me and puts both hands on my face, stroking my cheeks. I let her, bending down slightly so she can reach. For a second I’m twelve again, standing in this hallway with my hands at my sides not knowing what to do with a mother’s touch. “It’s so good to see you.” She means it. Teresa has always been genuine.

“You too,” I tell her, and I mean it back.

She holds my face for a moment and looks at me with those worried warm eyes.

Those green eyes seem to peer into my very soul and she frowns slightly, as if she can see something she doesn’t want to say out loud. Instead, she pats my cheek once and lets go.

Then she turns to Valentina.

It’s not like this is the first time Teresa has met Valentina.

Valentina was Emma’s maid of honor at her wedding and Teresa was there—the shit storm that caused with Connor was horrific.

I don’t know how much Emma and Teresa communicate, so how Teresa feels about Valentina is unclear.

Teresa takes Valentina’s hands in both of hers, squeezing gently. From the hard swallow, Teresa desperately wants to ask Valentina how Emma is doing.

But she can’t ask that question out loud. Not when Emma’s name is verboten in the Brennan household.

Teresa searches Valentina’s face, looking for something she desperately needs to know.

Valentina sees it immediately.

“You’ll have to forgive me. I’ve been so exhausted this week. A very close friend of mine is at the very end of a long project.” She tilts her head slightly. “She’s worked so hard on it. We all have, honestly. But she’s wonderful—glowing, really. The project is going beautifully. Any day now and it’ll all be finished.” A small, warm smile. “She’s more than ready. And everything looks perfect.”

A project? What is Valentina talking about? I don’t have the faintest idea what’s going on, but Teresa does.

The color that comes into her face is sudden, a flush of something that is pure relief, and her eyes go bright just for a moment before she blinks it back. Her grip on Valentina’s hands goes tight. Her whole body seems to ease by a degree, something unknotting somewhere deep in her.

“Everything,” Teresa says, and her voice catches slightly on the word. “Everything looks⁠—”

“Perfect,” Valentina finishes quietly, holding my aunt’s eyes. “I promise.”

Teresa nods. She can’t say anything else. She squeezes Valentina’s hands once more then she straightens and pulls herself together with the seamless efficiency of a woman who has had long practice at it.

“Come in,” she says, and her voice is steady. “Let me get you something.”

I watch them go down the hall together, Teresa’s hand light on Valentina’s arm, and I stand in the hallway by myself for a moment. Whatever just happened between the two of them has nothing to do with me.

It hits me. Valentina just told Teresa that Emma is okay. My chest tightens at the kindness my wife showed my aunt.

My wife.

I stay with the vase that doesn’t belong and the ghost of a six-year-old in a yellow raincoat, and I think about what it means that my wife just gave my aunt the thing she needed most tonight…then moved on like it was nothing.

It wasn’t nothing.

I follow them in.