“You’re here because you asked my brother. This is a shared family jet. If it were only mine, you wouldn’t be here.” Her voice shook, she was so pissed.
“Nothing you say could possibly make me feel worse than I already do,” Pat sighed, running his hands through his hair. “Fuck, Jo. Don’t you think I know how badly I’ve fucked everything up? Don’t you realize I’m dying inside knowing how I’ve hurt River? I knew the minute I touched that other woman that I’d fucked up.” Pat leaned back, staring up at the interior lights, trying to calm his breathing.
Sitting forward, he made sure to make eye contact with James’ sister before he said, “I was scared and running. I knew that night, after the garden, that I never wanted another woman except for River. She is it. I realize it will take a miracle for me to ever get her back.”
Jo was sniffling. She was a good friend to the sisters, and he was thankful for it. She picked up Thomas’ hand and started to rub his fingers between her two much smaller hands. Patrick didn’t think she even realized how she was soothing herself. The bodyguard looked shocked as well.
Jo was wrestling with what to say to him, he could tell. He deserved any amount of vitriol spewed his way. He would take it, swallow it, and continue to plan.
Sighing, Jo said, “Listen, Pat, I know people make bad, really bad decisions.” As she continued to speak, she was moving her hands, one of which was tugging and pulling Thomas’ along with it.
“I realize you are dealing with your own fallout. I’ve just been dealing with not being there to comfort one of my best friends when she needed me. I feel... Oh,” she finally realized she was holding her guard’s hand like a safety blanket, “sorry, Thomas.” She quickly dropped his hand back in his lap, twisting her hands together.
Thomas took her hand back and just kept it still on the armrest that divided their bodies. Jo went still before she looked back at Pat. “I’ll feel better when I see her. That’s all,” she shrugged, running out of steam.
“I’m glad she has you and her sisters. I promise you, though, I will never stop trying to get her back.”
“I don’t think you deserve her,” she admitted without heat, leaning her chair back as a huge yawn cracked her jaw.
“IknowI don’t deserve her.”
Patrick watched Jo’s eyes slowly close, her head listing to the side. Thomas watched her for a few minutes until her breathing evened into sleep before scooping her out of her seat and settling her on his lap. She blinked her eyes open, startled at the new position. Patrick watched her personal guard whisper something in her ear.
Whatever he said worked. Jo allowed him to place her head on his broad shoulder, her face in the crook of his neck. Thomas looked at Patrick, almost daring him to object to his lack of professionalism. Pat believed that ship had sailed months ago for those two. Patrick shrugged— not concerned.
Another thirty minutes of silence passed while he tried to work out his first move once he reached Dublin. Thomas shifted Jo, pulling a blanket over her body. Patrick wondered if Macgregor knew how far gone he was over Josephine.
Thomas looked at him. “She’s barely slept since she saw the pictures,” he explained in his heavy Scottish brogue.
“I understand,” is all he could say. He hurt so many people.
“I would like to discuss New Year’s Eve. At Wolves.” As Patrick’s body stiffened, Thomas added, “Not to berate you, Patrick. I imagine you are doing that to yourself well enough.”
“I do nothing but. What do you want to know?”
“Did you know there was a full spread of photographs from that night in Tulsa World’s social section?”
That startled Patrick. Sickened, he asked, “Of the garden?”
“No. There are tons of pictures of various customers enjoying themselves. One picture was of you and that woman at the garden doors.”
Patrick could only nod. He might vomit.
Thomas continued. “My people called the paper and asked who submitted the photos. Your father said he wasn’t aware of hiring a specific photographer for the event.” MacGregor’s grim face made Patrick extremely uneasy about where this conversation was heading.
“Did they get a name?”
“No. The paper’s editor said the cover letter accompanying the email and pictures led her to believe he was an independent hired by the O’Faolains. She sent the email to the detectives working the Samuel Delton case.” He took a deep breath, obviously angry that no one had caught the stalker yet.
“TheSocialOKblogger is the one who received and posted all the intimate pictures of you in the garden. The lead detective spoke to her personally. She received an email from a person who claimed to work forEvent Photography, a new company. The email explained that he didn’t expect payment, only a shout-out for the new business to help build his clientele. She did as he asked.”
“Did the detective find anything from that email?”
“The email was no longer available. The website forEvent Photographywas erased as though it had never been. No searches provided any leads.”
Patrick’s insides froze. Had that maniac been at Wolves? “What do you think?”
“I think Samuel Delton was there that night. I think he was in disguise. I think we stood next to him and never knew it. This man is a psychopath, but he’s also brilliant.”
