Now, Bébhinn had Dagr, and she was truly lost. She despised self-pity, and yet here she was, indulging the disgusting emotion.
She was about to back further away from the group when she felt her daughter’s arms wrapping around her waist and pressing their cheeks together.
“Mom.”
The slight hiccup in her whispered plea gutted her but also gave her purpose. Now was not a time to think about what she didn’t have, but a time to fight for what she still held in her arms.
“Thomas and Coll won’t sleep until whoever has done this to you is caught. You know that, sweet girl.”
“But,” she stuttered—trying to find the right words— “but I talk to Dad out loud sometimes, and… Oh God, and Dagr and I.”
Rowan knew precisely what she meant. Having her private moments spied on was an abhorrent thought for any person. “I know.” She patted her daughter’s back and kept her tightly hugged in her arms.
“There is no use jumping to the worst case, my love. Thomas and Coll might not be as fierce as your father when it comes to your protection, but they’re close seconds. As are your brothers, cousins, friends, and of course, your Dagr.
“You might have heard some of my and your aunts’ horror stories from our pasts, but I can say with certainty that you are strong enough to endure anything thrown your way. The Byrne women seem to draw in the nutters, unfortunately," Rowan said, trying for levity. “Even if this voyeuristic fuck watched your intimate moments, they can’t take away the love and joy you felt in those moments. There are sick people in this world, Bébhinn, and they don’t deserve an ounce of your life.”
Her daughter pulled back with brows raised in surprise. “Damn, Mom. I haven’t heard you drop the F-bomb since Dad told you to cut back on your hours at work,” she giggled, the sound bringing every eye in the room their way.
“Come on now, daughter. Your brothers are about to go on a destructive rampage if they have to see you cry anymore, and Dagr looks exactly the same. Like, seriously,” Rowan whispered, “exactly, weirdly the same. Mr. Griffiths’ DNA sample can’t come soon enough for me and your aunts.”
Rowan was pleased with her daughter’s answering grin. “You realize that if they are truly related, how much weirder the O’Faolain family tree will become.”
“Oh yes. I know. One of my fondest memories is how pink your dad’s ears would burn when someone would ask about the family dynamics.”
Rowan led her daughter to the bar and the loving family that waited for them.
Every day was a test in surviving after Hugh, but she would survive.
She was beginning to think her darling husband was somehow behind all the Griffiths shenanigans in his afterlife. He had, after all, insisted on the Wales hike where their daughter met the love of her life. And if Ulf was a long-lost brother to Bran and Patrick, Hugh would have been overjoyed for his sons.
Rowan was sick at heart because of what her daughter was going through, but she also had faith in her family and friends to fix it.
Whoever had done this to her daughter was about to have serious regrets.
fifty-four
THE WATCHER
Bébhinn didn’t come home.He knew because he was sitting in his shitty little car on her street. Only her friends and her cousins from next door had shown their faces.
He had been waffling for hours, days, and even weeks on his next course. Praying for a sign. Anything.
He knew she wouldn’t pick him now. Perhaps, before Wales, but not now. He’d let the love of his life slip through his fingers. Still, he wanted one more chance. Just one more to finally tell her how he felt. If she chose that other man, he would accept it like a man and move on, but he would regret not trying. For them. For their future.
He stared for two hours at Facebook Messenger, his finger hovering over her name. Finally, his fingers flew over his keyboard, pressing send before he could second-guess himself.
His eyes watered as he watched his phone screen for the receipt that she’d read his message.
This was it.
His last chance. If she saw his message.
He decided he would lay it all out for her. Give her all the reasons he would make the perfect partner for her. He knew her better than anyone else.
From their Rambler meetings and hikes, he knew her favorite food was crab. She despised milk, sunsets made her quiet and introspective, and she despised working out inside. Her eyes were her father’s, she hated blueberries and liked to sleep in tank tops with matching panties.
She never wanted to leave Dublin but dreamed of hiking all over the world.
