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“Kinsley disappeared. She left Keir all alone with a newborn, and I’m sure you can guess how that went.”
“I can guess, but I can’t picture it. Did he stop working during that time? He wouldn’t have had a choice, right?”
“He had to slow down, for sure,” she nods. “But she waited until he started running for Prime Minister before she served him with divorce papers. Had to get in the headlines one more time at his expense—all without a thought or care for how it might affect her daughter.”
I know I’m only getting one side of the story, but Saffron is painting a pretty damning picture of Keir’s wife.
Ex-wife.
“So now they’re divorced?” I ask, just to be sure. “Because I thought he was still married.”
“They’ve been separated for years. As far as I know, though, he’s still trying to track her down so they can finalize everything. Keir is ready to put her behind him for good, but he only hears from her once or twice a year when she hits him up for more money.”
That’s…awful. I purse my lips and shake my head.
“Wow. That’s… I had no idea.”
She nods and sets her empty glass aside. “It’s not something Keir talks about, for obvious reasons.”
“It’s no wonder he’s kept Isla tucked away at Drumman Castle all this time. With her mom out doing God knows what, I’m sure he wants to keep Isla out of the public eye as much as possible.”
“That’s right. And generally, Kinsley likes to be where the nightlife is happening. Paris, Prague, Ibiza.” She pauses a moment while the waiter returns with the credit card and asks if we need anything else before leaving us alone again. Only when he’s out of earshot does she continue. “Everyone, including Isla, will be better off once the divorce is finalized. If that little girl is lucky, she’ll never even have to speak to her mother again. I am pretty forgiving, but Kinsley does not deserve a relationship with Isla.”
My head is spinning from all the revelations Saffron is throwing at me. I still have plenty of questions but I’m finally starting to get some answers, too. I frown and fold my arms across my chest.
“Isla asks about Kinsley sometimes. I’ve heard her say she wants to see her mom.”
“Of course she asks. She’s a smart girl and she knows her mother is out there somewhere. But all the adults know better than to hope Kinsley comes back around. It would just be trouble.”
Saffron is about to say more. But then she frowns and looks down, producing a sleek cell phone from her purse. She checks the caller ID and then pulls a face.
“Sorry, I should answer this. I’ll be right back.” She slips away from the table, looking irritated.
I slump back against my chair as I try to process everything I’ve found out. Frankly, I feel bad for everyone involved: Saffron, Isla, Keir, even Kinsley’s lousy, partying ass. She might be an awful mom… but I don’t know what she’s been through or why she made such poor choices in life.
I’m sure there is a reason, though I doubt that knowing it will make Kinsley seem more sympathetic. After all, I’ve seen Isla in action. There is very little that would make Kinsley’s decisions seem more sane.
All I know is that I need to keep being gentle with Isla. Also, Saffron's tale makes me realize that I could also stand to be a little more patient with Keir.
He might be a stubborn, bullheaded asshole sometimes, but I can show him a tiny bit more grace and understanding.
I can try, anyway.
CHAPTERSEVEN
KEIRAN
I have to admit I had a nice time with Isla yesterday. An amusement park full of inflatable slides and trampolines and ball pits with screaming kids jumping out around every corner wasn’t how I envisioned spending my afternoon. Still, it was worth it to see the way Isla’s little face light up when she got to bounce and play as roughly as she wanted.
There were no angry principals or disappointed teachers to be seen. It was a fun afternoon filled with laughter and topped with a generous scoop of mint chocolate chip ice cream on the ride home.
I definitely need to set aside more one-on-one time with her. But I won’t have time for anything with anyone ever again if I don’t hire a new assistant.
Trying to stay on top of everything by myself is impossible. God only knows how many meetings I missed yesterday thanks to Saffron coming over early and turning my schedule upside down.
Thinking about yesterday’s interruption is making me irritable all over again as I walk into the NewsCorp headquarters. It’s also irritating to be walking into the building alone when I should have an assistant by my side taking notes and reading my schedule to me.
“Good morning, Lord Grayrose,” the receptionist in the main lobby calls out as I walk past. The handful of staffers who’d been loitering around her central desk have already scattered like roaches but I can see them already sneaking back to chat and gossip as I step into the elevator.
