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Chapter Twenty-Four
Finn
“The bastard.”Then, having made that declaration, I ground out, “Why didn’t you call me after it happened?”
She ducked her head dejectedly. “I didn’t want to talk about it yet.”
“I figured that by the fact you haven’t talked about it,” I said dryly as I took a seat beside her on the sofa in my office.
Having her back here was a luxury I wanted to become accustomed to. For three months, I’d had to live in and out of my office at work and the compound. For every one night I’d spent with her, I’d had to endure three nights alone.
I had not envisaged married life starting out so shittily, and I knew Aoife hadn’t either. Who would?
A wedding reception in the ER department.
A honeymoon in ICU.
The first three months of married bliss separated.
And the gift from the father of the bride to the happy couple? A dear John letter. Well, he’d had the courtesy to reject her in person.
Talk about all heart.
Jesus Christ.
I curved my arm around her shoulders and tucked her close. Pressing my lips to her temple, I whispered, “Aoife, you’re supposed to share these things with me. I knew there was something wrong, but you wouldn’t say what.”
She’d been tense and edgy all evening, totally unlike her regular happy self. Even with cabin fever and being stuck in the compound, she’d been chirpier than this. I’d expected her to be goddamn effervescent—relieved at being away from the other women and their kids, excited about being able to work on the bakery, delighted with the prospect of us being together again.
Instead, she’d been quiet.Sad. It had put me on edge until I’d texted Samuel and had asked about Aoife’s day. When he’d told me she’d gone to the boutique hotel where she and her father met, I’d had my suspicions of what had occurred.
I knew he hadn’t messaged her much over the past few months, and with my ties to organized crime? I’d just been hoping that he wouldn’t let her down. But he had.
The cunt.
“It’s his loss, sweetheart,” I told her softly, sorrow filling me at how hurt she must be.
She turned her face into my side and curled her knees up, so she could hug them. Her next words weren’t ones I anticipated, though. “Finn, I’ve been thinking.”
“What about?”
“My mom and her friend.”
I blinked at that. Which friend? “What about them?”
“I don’t want any secrets from you, and I want to know if you’ll do something for me.”
“Anything.” I frowned. “You know I don’t want any secrets between us, either.”
She blew out a breath, and her nerves rattled something inside me. “Now, let me just say, there was never an appropriate time to disclose this. And, honestly, knowing what I did helped me get over the rather abrupt start to our relationship. With that being said, the past is in the past, right?”
“I guess,” I said, my tone uneasy.
“Do you remember someone named Ellie Donahue?”
I firmed my lips but when she stared up at me, her eyes beseeching, I gritted out, “Yeah. She was a friend of my mom.”
“She had a daughter. Do you remember?”
