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Warily, I fingered the hem of the towel that covered me, keeping my head bowed.
“Shit.”
His curse had my shoulders hunching, because I knew he got where I was coming from. “You couldn’t seriously think I’d top you?”
“It was one of the major reasons I worked so hard to be successful. I needed to keep myself safe.”
“You seriously thought so badly of me?”
“You were like a different man after Deirdre died, Declan,” I rasped. “Nothing like the boy I loved, and all I could think was that I was a side piece and she was supposed to be your bride. I thought you’d be wishing I was dead and not her.”
He scrubbed a hand over his jaw, contemplating my words even as he was shaking his head. “I wish I’d known how badly I’d treated you. Maybe I’d have expected for you to run off. I just thought you’d stop calling, stop trying to see me. I never imagined you’d go all the way to fucking Ireland to avoid me.”
“Did you look for me?”
Pursing his lips, he grumbled, “Of course I did. But it was too late when you were out of the country, and I had to keep it on the down low.”
“You could have followed me,” I said softly.
“I could have.” He sighed. “I should have.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“If I tell you that I have no idea why, would you believe me?”
My lips twisted. “You have no reason to lie to me.”
“I don’t,” he agreed. “Did you keep tabs on me?”
“Some. Enough to know you were alive.”
He shot me a rueful smile. “These past couple of years, I kept tabs on you. Nothing too heavy or I’d have found out about Shay sooner, but about your art.”
“I know you did—you said you liked my work today.”
“I can’t stop thinking about how different shit would be if I’d come after you.” He blew out a breath. “It makes me feel so fucking guilty.”
My life and his would have been a hell of a lot different if that was what had happened.
Was it crazy that I was glad we’d been separated? I wished Declan and Seamus were closer, and that was my sole regret, but I was a stronger woman for all my experiences. The kind of strong woman that a man like Declan needed.
It was crazy, wasn’t it? How I could contemplate marrying a man who gunned down attackers one day, then could be sitting around the family dinner table, his shoulders hunched as his father insulted him the next?
“Don’t, maybe we’re the people we need to be now because of what we’ve gone through separately.”
His smile was rueful. “Don’t think you’d have been as ballsy today with Da if we’d married when we were young.”
“No,” I agreed, and because that was the segue I needed, I stated, “My turn. For a question, I mean.”
“Shoot.”
“Finn’s related to you, isn’t he?”
He reared back at that. “Huh?”
I shrugged. “Your bone structure is the same. The coloring too. It’s uncanny. And I swear, when Seamus was a boy, he looked like Jacob. Sure, his baby features are still developing, but it’s like looking at a mini Aidan.”
He was shaking his head in disagreement. “No.” His voice was the sternest I’d ever heard it. “No. Finn’s like a brother to us, but he’s a friend of the family.”
