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“How can I be in love with him? Don’t get me wrong, I am in love with him. But we’ve known each other for only a week.”
“Sometimes it takes a while. Sometimes not so much. Love can’t be defined, chérie.”
I open my mouth to speak, but she gestures me not to.
“I felt very strongly when I first saw the two of you together that you were meant to be. I’m not usually wrong.”
“But he…”
“I know.” She smiles. “He’s a businessman, first and foremost. He doesn’t concern himself with emotion.” Her monotone makes me chuckle. “That can lead to a very lonely life, Mary. When you get to a certain age, you realize your life is built on straw.”
“Straw?”
“You need a foundation. You can have all the money in the world, all the things in the world, but if you don’t have someone to share it with…will you ever truly be happy?”
“I’ve turned off my emotions for so long,” I tell her. “I was hurt once.”
“You’re young.”
“Yes, but is that an excuse?”
“Not an excuse. A reason. Young people make mistakes. It’s how they grow. But you can’t let one bad experience turn you off relationships forever.”
“Is that what you think Ronan has done?”
“In a way, yes,” she says. “But I’m not sure he’s ever been hurt, Mary. Not in the way you were.”
“Who could hurt him? I mean…look at him.”
“Oh yes, he’s very strong, my Ronan. But he’s been hurt in other ways. He didn’t have the love of his mother and father. I basically raised him.”
“He mentioned as much.”
“Declan was always running back and forth to the UK on business, and Simone would go with him sometimes. She loves Ronan. But she also loved being the wife of a jet-setting multimillionaire. The little boy… Well, he got in the way of that.”
My heart breaks a little then.
Breaks for that big, strong man lying in a hospital bed, recovering from surgery, breaks for the little boy he was. A freckle-faced little redheaded boy who only wanted his parents. Their presence. Their love.
“I’m sure you gave him all the love he needed, Yvette.”
“I certainly did my best, but I was running a restaurant as well. Ronan grew up there.”
A nurse comes out. “Ronan O’Connor?”
Yvette and I both stand.
“He’s awake. He’s asking for someone named Mary?”
My skin warms. “I’m Mary, but this is his grandmother, Yvette Thibodeaux. She should see him first.”
Yvette smiles at me, squeezes my hand. “Nonsense. He’s asking for you, and I want him to have what he needs. What he yearns for.”
“If you’re sure.”
She leans toward me and whispers, “Did you use the love spell?”
“It wasn’t a spell, Yvette. But you already know that.”
