Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
His eyes meet mine, and I hold his gaze. I’m not getting away with this. Maybe he’ll say something. Maybe he was the one who told Seamus that night—I don’t know.
And in that moment, I wonder if the poets are right: Is it better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all? Is it really though? Because I can barely function.
My phone vibrates.
Declan. Because of course.
Declan
Heard you’re coming tonight?
I look at the text for a long moment, aching. Does he want me there?
Of course he wants me there. Since I promised we’d remain friends. That’s what we are. Friends.
We are.
Then I respond.
Wouldn’t miss it for the world
I add an uncomfortable amount of happy face emojis that aren’t fooling anyone.
Declan
I’ve been thinking about you
He’s been thinking about me? Oh yeah? Every time he sees a cloud shaped like something and wants to tell me about it? I see dinosaurs. He sees titties in a push-up bra. All this time, and he has never once evolved.
Or maybe he thinks of me every time he adds triple whipped cream to his ice cream at Lickety Split because he likes the whipped cream even more than the ice cream, and I was the one who convinced him that social etiquette doesn’t apply to ice cream.
Or is it every time he showers and puts his hand on the hot tile, he remembers the way I screamed when I came?
Or no? Just me.
“Bridget?” Cavin’s frowning. He’s likely been talking to me, and I didn’t even realize. My cheeks heat as I put my phone face down.
“Sorry, got distracted.”
What’s even socially appropriate at this point? Declan’s engagement has been announced. He’s still my friend. He still texts me sporadically, but I take my time responding. I don’t send him the things I used to because I don’t know what’s smart, and I get the distinct impression he doesn’t either.
“What's wrong with the ledgers?” Cavin says, turning back toward the sink to rinse the dishes.
“They don't add up.” I follow him, leaning against the counter. “Valentina's family said the dowry was structured in three portions—the first came through clean, no issues. But the second transfer routed through four different accounts before it landed, and two of them are registered in Boston.” I pause. “For a family based out of New York, that's a strange way to move clean money.”
Cavin doesn't say anything, just keeps rinsing.
“On paper, it looks fine,” I continue. “But something's not sitting right with me.”
“Is that because you don’t want it to?” he says, giving me a sideways glance.
Erin looks up from her laptop. She’s absolutely brilliant at most things, except when it comes to subtle social cues. “Why wouldn’t you want them to add up?” she asks, shaking her head. “Anything that looks off, we should look into. That’s just sense.”
Cavin’s jaw tightens. I love the bastard, but I want to fucking fight him right now. I sit heavily back at the table and try to rearrange my face so I don’t give myself away.
Fuck off, Cavin McCarthy. So fucking sue me for falling in love with a man who makes me feel human and alive.
Of course, I’m smart enough not to say that out loud. “I’m just saying, it’s something we need to look into.”
“Yes. Fine. But Seamus went into great detail on this one. After what happened with your parents, he’s not going to make a bad trade again.”
“Leave my parents out of this,” I snap before I can stop myself.
Erin blinks in surprise, and Cavin shuts the dishwasher with more force than necessary.
“What your parents did has nothing to do with you or your sister,” he says, softer now, which is somehow worse.
“Is that right? Then why am I such an outcast, Cavin? If it has nothing to do with me—”
“Bridget.” Erin interrupts gently. “Leave it.”
Tears prick my eyes. I’m not usually so touchy. What’s wrong with me?
“No. I’m not going to be punished anymore for decisions our parents made.” I look at him directly. “I know they betrayed the McCarthys. That has nothing to do with me.”
“I know you don’t like it, Bridget, but it has everything to do with you,” Cavin says. His voice hasn’t risen, but there’s a weight to it that presses down. “You may not have made that decision, but you were wrapped up in every single thing that came after it—everything involving you, your sister, your parents. And it’s only because Seamus decided to be merciful that you’re standing in this kitchen.”
My jaw drops, and I’m on my feet.
“Are you threatening me, Cavin?”
“Please, sit down,” Erin says, shaking her head.
“For feck’s sake, Bridget,” Cavin says. He slams the cabinet and turns around to face me, his eyes like flint. “I’m not threatening you. I’m just saying, maybe decide to make some better decisions. Maybe not take certain things for granted.”