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Twenty-Five
Aoife
When the elevator doors opened,the penthouse was silent so I heard the swoosh as if it were a clanging bell.
Lena had taken Jake on a visit to the zoo to give me some time to cry, but with every passing minute, I both missed him more and knew that it was nearer to Finn coming home.
Finn—the man I’d told my worst secrets to. The man I loved. The man I’d vowed to be with until death did us part.
Twice.
But who I couldn’t share this truth with.
A truth that…
After researching sirenomelia, I knew what I was going to do, and I knew he wouldn’t agree.
Over the hours of staring at nothing, of looking up at the ceiling and trying to think of a resolution, I knew what my next steps would be.
Knowing that the penthouse would have spat out a bubbling, gurgling toddler who’d be squealing happily if it were Jake and Lena returning from the zoo, I quickly shot up from the mattress and darted into the bathroom.
The second I saw my reflection, I winced because I looked like I’d been crying. That was the opposite of what I needed. I had to present a calm front, astrongand resolute front,so when I told Finn how it was going to go down, he’d listen and wouldn’t take over.
Scrubbing my face with my cleanser, I wasn’t surprised when there was a knock on the bathroom door.
“Aoife?”
My brow furrowed as I heard the note in his voice—sorrow? I knew my husband well. He was the king of the poker face, and that extended to most parts of his body.
Okay, not his dick. But everything else, he had complete control over.
If he sounded like that, it was because his guard was down, and that meant something had happened.
Something bad.
My own worries shoved aside, I dragged open the door, soap still on my face, and demanded, “Finn? What is it?”
His voice matched his expression which only augmented my worries.
Jesus, he looked like he’d aged a hundred years since this morning.
Finn was incapable of being unattractive, it was those O’Donnelly genes, but the way his shoulders were stooped and his expression—his exhaustion reached out to me.
Did he know?
That was all I could think.
Had the doctor called him? Had John, my guard, told him?
Finn looked like he was grieving.
He pressed a shoulder to the door and told me, “I need to speak with you, sweetheart.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”
“No.” Rubbing a hand over his face, he muttered, “I wish.”
“What is it?”
