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But those are a thing of the past. This is my new life. It’s not permanent. I’ll need somewhere bigger before the baby comes, but for now, it’s an ideal bolthole for me to stay safe, under the radar, and make my plans.
It doesn’t escape my notice that my new address on Gregory Avenue, Weehawken, is right across the water from Ár n-áit. As good as opposite, in fact, with only a ten mile stretch of water in between.
Did I plan it that way?
I don’t think so, but maybe in my subconscious I felt safer being close to Irish territory.
Whatever the reason, it’s not forever. Once I've found my feet, I think I might move away. Somewhere out of the city, where it’s cheaper to live and there’s more green space for a child to enjoy.
Somewhere where the ghost of this baby’s father doesn’t haunt me.
I thought he might have reached out… or something. I don’t know what, exactly.
Just something.
But I guess Ciaran’s silence says it all. As much as I’d felt there was something between us, and as much as I yearn to see him, it’s likely he still blames me for Róisín being taken by the Viper.
And while technically that’s true, there’s not really any right or wrong in this scenario. It’s all just a stinking pile of shit.
I conveniently ‘forget’ he has no way of contacting me. Why? Because it’s easier to function under the veil of righteous indignation.
So, I stay away from Ár n-áit, and I don’t contact Ciaran. Not that I have any way of actually doing so, even if I wanted to. One does not simply walk up to a gated compound in Hell’s Kitchen and get let in. Although if I wanted to get in touch, such a bold move may, at least, get his attention.
For the moment, I’m still licking my wounds; both the emotional and the physical ones.
I have yet to make a decision about telling Ciaran of his impending fatherhood. My thoughts keep vacillating from one extreme to the other. From sheer desperation to see him and have support with this baby, to running in the opposite direction as fast as I can. When things around me seem a little more solid, and my feelings are no longer balancing on this seesaw, swinging back and forth while I try to maintain my balance, then I’ll make that call.
* * *
As it happens, the decision is taken out of my hands. Exactly one week later, there’s a knock on my door.
My instinct is to ignore it. No one knows I’m here, and there’s nobody I need to answer to. But suspicion blended with a dash of curiosity has me checking the peephole. It pays to be aware.
When I see Ciaran standing there, I dive away and press tight against the wall, slapping my hand against my mouth.
Do I answer or not? My heart screams at me to do so, but my caution cripples me.
Then, the opportunity is taken out of my hands.
The letter box rattles, and something is posted through. I barely pause a moment before snatching it up to see what it is. Opening the small, black velvet pouch, my precious bracelet - the one my mother gave me - falls into my palm.
It’s perfect.
The dent has been hammered out of the infinity symbol and is now invisible, and the bracelet itself has been replaced.
He fixed it like he promised, then hunted me down to return it when he could just as easily have thrown it away and never bothered.
My fingers are scrambling with the latch before I make a conscious decision to open the door, and I’m flying up the exterior basement steps to ground level, my hair flying around my face as I whirl around to ascertain where he’s gone.
There, on the opposite side of the road, is an expensive-looking gray car with tinted windows. I don’t know for certain but I’m sure it’s his. I stop in my tracks and stare at it for what feels like forever, willing Ciaran to see me. To give me any kind of sign that he wants to.
He didn’t have to knock, a voice in my head insists. But my insecurities are still too strong for me to march over there and assert myself.
There’s no movement, none. It feels like my chest splits open, and my heart plummets to the sidewalk where it splatters and dies another death.
Coming after him was a mistake, but whatever my apathy towards this man, my body and my emotions are far quicker to react than my mind.
Then, as I’m about to turn away, the door opens.
