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I can do this. I want to do this. But do I want to do this with Darragh? Let him claim this baby as the father?
One thing is certain, I can’t go home to Astoria even if I wanted to. Papa would punish me and take my baby for sure.
Then plan his slaughter of the O’Rourkes.
With the mailbox in sight, I sneak the envelope out of my pocket, curling it into my fist.
Sophie walks along, oblivious, telling me who lives where, pointing to other houses just like hers. They vary in color and rooflines. But they’re all sweeping Victorian masterpieces.
We get to the mailbox, and I assume the coast is clear.
Even if Darragh catches me mail the letter, he can’t do anything about it. Tampering with the mail is a federal offense. Unless he has connections at the post office.
“Sophie, who lives in that house?” I point.
She chatters on with names I won’t remember, but I hear something about a new puppy.
“What’s the dog’s name?”
“Violet.”
“Rather fancy for a dog.”
“I know.” She looks up at me with a trusting smile that melts me.
When she’s looking away again, I try to jam the letter into the open slot, but it falls to the ground.
A polished shoe steps on it, and a brawny hand picks it up.
“What is this?” Darragh stares at the letter, his face tensing up. “Where did you—”
He’s cut off by a whoosh of rain hammering down on us.
“Ack! Daddy, I’m getting wet!” Sophie yells, keeping a hand over her cute head.
“I see that.” Darragh lifts a massive umbrella. He tries to pull me under, too. “Let’s get back to the house.”
I shoulder him off and walk ahead, letting the fat drops soak my clothes.
Inside, I expect Darragh to be shaking with rage over Sophie getting caught in the rain so I can break the rules and reach out to my sister.
He’s oddly…calm, but he’s talking to Sophie.
“Go take a shower, since you have to change anyway for bed. Ana and I are going to eat dinner.”
“Okay, Daddy.” She stomps up the stairs, shaking her wet hair.
“I’m sorry,” I say immediately.
“It’s just water. It’s just rain.” He looks me over.
“I meant the letter.” I close my eyes, expecting to hear shouting as Cormac’s angry voice rings in my ears. “Please don’t hurt me.”
Darragh doesn’t move. Doesn’t say a thing. I don’t even hear breathing.
I peek at him from under my lashes, and see sympathy.
“I told you, I would never hurt you,” he says.
