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“I’m ready.”
8
Connor
Gravelcrunchedunderfootaswe pulled up the drive, and I immediately relaxed at the sight of it. The family cabin in Kennebunkport, Maine, had been the summer gathering point for the family since I was a little kid. It brought back a wave of bittersweet nostalgia, but it was still one of my favorite places in the world.
Although, to call it a cabin would be modest. Ruggedly imposing, the twelve-bedroom neo-craftsman sat on the edge of the property, overlooking the rocky coastline and out onto the dark blue expanse of the Atlantic Ocean. A swimming pool and tennis court hovered nearby, delicately hid behind beautifully sculpted gardens. On the far side of the property, converted stables held a wealth of vehicles and my pride and joy, the vintage 1974 Norton Commando motorbike that Da and I built together. It had been far too long since I’d last visited, and I was looking forward to taking her out.
I looked across the car at my fellow passenger. She was no longer Cassidy Quinn, but Cassidy McTiernan. My wife.
And for the next week we were going to be stuck here together, playing the adoring newlyweds on their honeymoon.
After everything the last week had brought—the bitter showdown at the hospital, the clipped remarks and loathing glances, and last but certainly not least that sizzling yet confusing kiss in the parking lot—I was prepared to batten down the hatches for a full-force gale to the tune of Hurricane Cassidy.
The reality of it was certainly no less confusing, but oddly…nice.
The wedding had gone off without a hitch. To my surprise, Cassidy showed up dressed to the nines with a demure little smile on her face and played her part perfectly. Smiling when she needed to. Greeting the guests. Her hand on my arm and her lips appropriately, albeit benignly, brushing mine at the right moments. It was almost impossible to reconcile this new woman with the portrait I had constructed in my mind, because there in that café’s parking lot, I got my first good look at Cassidy Quinn, at what was really underneath all that righteous indignation and spitfire attitude. I saw a lot of things.
Fear. Loneliness. Frustration. It bled from her in waves. But there was also strength and perseverance and above all, a fire that I hadn’t expected, one that didn’t singe me with her anger but instead enveloped me in warmth. I thought I could see a softer, sweeter person hiding behind those walls she’d thrown up in protection, someone I surprisingly wanted to know more of.
There in that parking lot, Cassidy Quinn had kissed me back.
She acted like she hadn’t meant it.
She was lying.
I wasn’t sure what to do with how that information made me feel. It had almost made me stumble in my own resolve, until I tucked those feelings down in their lockbox where they belonged and got down to business.
Cassidy’s angle became clearer when we got up to the bridal suite. As soon as I shut the door, she had pulled the flowers from her hair, poured us each a double shot of whiskey, and sat down at the table like we were about to have a business meeting. And, in a way, I suppose that’s exactly what it turned out to be.
The more she talked, the more I developed a begrudging respect for Cassidy as she outlined the rules for our partnership.
1. No sex. (Obviously)
2. I keep mybusinessendeavorsto myself. I don’t talk about them, and she does not witness them.
3. Cassidy will return to work as soon as her suspension is up.
4. Physical intimacy will be rendered as appropriate to maintain the guise while in public, but nothing more.
5. We will conduct daily meetings to exchange personal information in preparation for my inevitable Immigration interview.
I added a rule of my own:
6. Cassidy will listen to and abide by any security measures put in place.
She squirmed a bit at that one. I had expected to have her fighting me every step of the way on this thing, but I’d have to admit, I was impressed by the way she was handling the situation.
This was going to be easier than I thought.
I looked over at her. Cassidy was staring impassively out the window as we approached the house, sitting prim and proper with her hands folded in her lap. I couldn’t have told you what she was thinking if my life depended on it.
To my surprise, I strangely found myself wanting to.
“Callum built the house for Melissa right after they were married,” I told her. “We’ve been coming here every summer since I can remember.”
Cassidy glanced at me, frowning. “From Ireland?”
