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Of course she didn’t get it; she never got it! “Because, I am a fucking kicked dog! My family exiled me to this damn position because I didn’t know my place.”


“Exile? You’re in a fucking master suite in a five-star hotel! For once you’re out on your own and you can’t even handle that! You’re a grown man, Neal. Act like one.”


“Shut the fuck up! For the love of God, Olivia, shut up! It’s my mistake to think you would get it, but you just can’t. Family is everything! You have no brothers, no sisters and your parents hate each other. Of course you have no idea. You’ve never trusted anyone, you depend solely on yourself and it’s why you’re dying inside. You’re dying for validation and love from people who really don’t give a shit about you, who don’t know you. But you prefer it like that.”


“You’re drunk, I’m going to bed before you damage our relationship any further.”


“You do that.” Was all I could say before falling onto the couch. Rolling around, I tried to make myself comfortable, but of course, the great five-star hotel couldn’t get a couch that fit all fucking sizes. I found myself staring at the chandelier above, unsure whether or not I should go to her. I didn’t have to wait long before a pillow landed on my face.


“Fuck you for making me too angry to sleep,” she snapped before punching my arm.


“Aye! Stop it.”


She didn’t and I grabbed her hands, pulling her over the couch and forcing us both onto the ground.


“Olivia, Jesus, control yourself!” I yelled, pinning her arms across her chest.


“Get off of me, you son of a bitch! I’m dying for validation? How about you? You’re dying for your little brother to love you, your father to respect you, for some meaning to your life. Well guess what? If you didn’t give up your title as Ceann Na Conairte you would’ve had all of that and more.”


I wanted to strangle her, but someone had to fucking knock on the door. Our eyes met before we both got up, fixed our clothes and rushed to the door. She gripped my arm, pulling me to her side before opening the door.


“Hi,” she said so fake I fought the urge to roll my eyes.


The butler smiled back before handing her a letter. “From the Senator. Mrs. Callahan, Mr. Callahan.”


“Thank you, and good night,” Olivia said, closing the door before opening the letter.


“Your father does know we were only a floor beneath him, right?” And I was the spoiled rich kid?


“He’s inviting everyone for breakfast before we head back to Chicago. Apparently we’re done. Maybe now you can learn to smile again,” she said before throwing the card at my face.


Grabbing it to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, I wanted to do a little happy dance. I was finally going the fuck home.


DECLAN


I held it right next to the side of her face, waiting for her to look away from her copy of Pride & Prejudice. She was so immersed in the words of Ms. Austen that she didn’t even look. It made me want to laugh. Instead, with one finger, I pulled the book down.


“Declan! Mr. Darcy was just about—” She froze when she saw the joint in front of her face.


“As you were saying?”


She smiled, taking the joint from my hand. “You spoil me.”


“Someone has to.” I laughed, sitting up on the bed and lighting it for her. Her hands shook slightly as she reached up to grab it. Taking a long drag, she laughed through a cough.


“Slow down or you’re going to finish my entire stash.”


“Ooooh boo-hoo. I’m legally allowed to smoke.” She relaxed into the pillows behind her.


“Not in Ireland.”


“Stop, you’re killing my buzz.”


Taking the book from her lap, I flipped to the page she was on. “Were you gushing about Mr. Darcy again?”


“Jealous?”


“Please, Darcy can’t hold a candle to me. Look at this smile, these eyes.” I posed for her. She stared at me through the smoky haze before laughing outright. “There goes my ego.”


“You have a great head of hair too,” she whispered, leaving the joint on the side table to run her hands through my hair. “I’m glad you didn’t cut it for me.”


The smile on my face fell when I met her eyes. Collapsing against the pillows, I reached up to the blue scarf that she donned on her head.


“You know I would have, right? I would have shaved off my eyebrows too.”


Even though she grinned, I was serious. The last couple of weeks had been hard. Her mood swings, her pain, losing her hair. I wanted to do anything to help carry that burden. All I could do was just be here…I prayed that was enough for now.


“I’m sorry I was such a bitch yesterday,” she whispered, curling up against me.


Wrapping my arms around her, I tried not to think about it. “You weren’t.”


“I was. I don’t know what came over me. Just because I have cancer doesn’t mean I get to throw my food at you. It hurt to eat and I wanted you to hurt—I don’t know why—but I’m sorry. I love you.”


Biting my bottom lip, I blinked a few times before brushing it off. “You’re fine, baby. Those carrots were overdone anyway. Now can you explain to me why you insist on rereading this again?”


“It’s a classic.”


“There are many other classics.”


“Listen Callahan, Pride & Prejudice is a timeless romantic classic that makes my toes curl. So no hating.”


Pouting, I lifted the book with my free hand. “And I thought I was the only one that made your toes curl.”


“Nope, you and Jane, but for different reason.” I loved how she felt when she laughed against me. “Now read.”


“Yes, ma’am.” Flipping to my favorite part in the novel, I read: “There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense.”


Before I could blink, she was up and running toward the bathroom. I had learned the hard way that she hated when I followed her into the bathroom. We had screamed at each other way too much over it, so I forced myself to simply let it go. I waited on the bed, my feet restless against the floor, just wanting to leap forward if she needed me. It was a long ten minutes. But then she finally stumbled out.


“Do you need help?” I asked. Rising, she shook her head, and reached for the end of the bed. Hugging the bedpost, she took a deep breath but it didn’t help. Her legs gave out from under her, but before she could fall, I caught her.


“Damn it,” she whispered.


“You got farther this time. Baby steps, remember? You just got off the chemo,” I whispered, hugging her to me as I sat back on the bed.


“I just want to be better already.”


“You will. Just don’t push yourself too much.” I knew she wouldn’t listen, but I would be here. Each and every time I would be right here reading whatever repetitive classic she needed me to. And if it meant having her by my side just a minute longer, I’d do it forever.

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