Irish Rogue, page 13
“Bullshit,” she spits. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. I wish you could see that.”
The scars on my wrists tingle. I appreciate Caitlín’s words, but those tell me otherwise. Once she has something in her head, though, there’s no talking her out of it. So, I’ll let her keep thinking it. “Thank you,” I say, if only to appease her.
“Give him hell, Anya.”
I chuckle. “I’ll do my best. Okay, I better call Mila so we can go buy some furniture for this place. I have no intention of sitting on the floor.”
“Sounds like a plan. You know you can call me anytime you need to vent. Even if it is as this godawful hour of the morning,” she grumbles.
“I promise I’ll try not to make a habit of it. Or, at least, wait until the sun has risen a bit higher.”
“Don’t forget what I said,” Caitlín reminds me. “You’re strong. And don’t take any shit from my brother.”
“Understood.”
“Love you,” she says.
“Love you, too.” I hang up, feeling surprisingly better than I thought I would. Although, Caitlín does have this thing about her that makes me see things in a new perspective. She’s also usually right. But I don’t dare tell her that because she’s already over-confident and doesn’t need me feeding it.
I keep going over the argument downstairs. Where had it even come from? One second, we’re having a normal conversation and the next, we’re fighting. There’s a tiny part of me that wants to remain agreeable because I’m afraid what he’ll do if I’m not. No, Paddy’s not like that.
The rational part of my brain knows this, but it’s the other part that needs convincing. I’m too tired to think about it this second. Instead, I need to call Mila and then get ready. I’ll worry about this thing with Paddy later.
Chapter 23
Paddy
* * *
The delivery driver has long been gone and still, Anya hasn’t made an appearance. Then again, why should she? Jaysus, when did I turn into such an asshole? I put the leftover breakfast in the fridge. Hopefully, when she’s ready, she’ll be down. I carefully compose a text message, checking it over three times before sending it, and then head out the door.
The drive into Italian territory doesn’t take nearly long enough. But, I need advice, and there’s only one person I trust to keep quiet about it. I find a place to park a few streets down from my intended destination. The walk gives me a bit of time to think, although it doesn’t do any good. Nothing does except for cleaning my guns. It’s the one thing that settles my mind.
I step through the front door and into the lobby of the six-story building. It’s always been a bit pretentious, in my opinion, with its gleaming, white marble floors and wall-to-wall windows that let the sun shine in and reflect off the various sculptures on giant pedestals peppered throughout. It does remind me a bit, though, of standing outside in my mother’s garden with the constant scent of fresh flowers heavy in the air.
“Good morning, Mr. Donnelly. Are you expected today?” the security guard seated behind the desk asks.
“Yes. No need to announce me.” I press the elevator button. Thankfully, I don’t have to wait long.
It’s a short ride up to the fifth floor. Toys are scattered throughout the entryway outside the townhouse. I step over a dump truck tipped on its side and knock on the door. Stomping footsteps come closer, and it’s flung open.
“Hi, Uncle Paddy,” a gap-toothed smile greets me.
“Hey, squirt.”
“Saoirse, what did I tell you about opening the door without me?” Brenna lightly scolds as she comes to join us.
“But, mama, it’s just Uncle Paddy.”
My sister presses a kiss to the top of her daughter’s strawberry blonde hair. The same color as Brenna’s when we were little. “Yes, I see that. Why don’t you go help Marta with the twins?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Saoirse runs a few steps and then turns around and rushes back to throw her arms around me. “Bye, Uncle Paddy.”
She’s gone again before I can even recover. I stare after her and then glance at Brenna. “What happened to that quiet, pensive child in the last couple weeks?”
Despite the passing years, and four children, my sister still looks eighteen. With a sigh, she steps close and gives me a hug. “I wish I knew. Apparently, Cristiano is rubbing off on her. Or maybe it’s Franco. He came over one day with Marta, and apparently, my daughter has developed something of a crush.”
I stare in horror. “Isn’t he our age? She’s five.”
Brenna chuckles. “Five-year-olds can have crushes.”
“Not on thirty-year-olds, they can’t.” I might need to have a talk with this Franco.
She grabs my arm and drags me across the living room to the couch, pulling me down beside her. “You’re being ridiculous. Now, tell me what’s going on. I can’t think of a single reason why you’d need advice from me, of all people.”
Her words sting, even though I’m sure she didn’t mean for them to. Despite being twins, we’ve never really had a lot in common. Not even as kids. We’re completely different from each other with polar opposite personalities. If we didn’t tell people, no one would ever believe we were born only minutes apart. I almost wish I could go back and appreciate Brenna more than I have.
With the question out in the open like this, my brain decides to shut down. I can’t seem to form the words. It’s as though every thought inside my head has vanished. Stupid.
“Hey,” Brenna says softly, touching my arm. “Is everything okay?”
“It’s Anya,” I blurt out and fidget uncomfortably. “I mean, it’s this marriage.”
Her expression shifts from concern to a sort of understanding. “Arranged marriages aren’t easy.”
“We got into a fight this morning,” I admit.
“About?”
“Stupid shit. I took anger at myself out on her. Now, I don’t know how to fix it.”
Brenna smiles softly. “Saying sorry is usually a good start.”
“Has Emilio ever apologized to you?”
She outright laughs at that. “More times than he will admit.” She places her hand on my arm. “It takes a bigger person to say I’m sorry than one who doesn’t.”
I drop my head onto the sofa back and stare up at the ceiling. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“I’ve never taken you for a quitter,” Brenna scolds softly.
That’s because you don’t know me. I raise my head. “How did you do it? Figure out this whole marriage thing, I mean?”
“Are you kidding?” she gapes. “I’m still figuring it out. But that’s how it works. No one knows exactly how their life with someone is going to go. Every day is a work in progress. Jacob and I both have to bring our best to the other. It’s not always easy.”
I lean back again.
She shifts next to me. “Can I ask you a question?”
I swivel my head in her direction.
“Why did you marry Anya, anyway? We all know how you feel about marriage and tying yourself to one woman. What is it about her that’s different?”
Everything.
“She asked me to,” I confess. “And I thought it would be easy. I wanted Mother off my back about settling down, and Anya wanted someone who wouldn’t expect anything from her.”
Brenna’s eyes widen. “So, you committed yourself to her for the rest of your life to avoid Mother’s attempts at matchmaking?”
Her saying it out loud like that makes the back of my neck heat. Especially, since it wasn’t just because of that. Yes, it was a big part, but there were other factors. “You make it sound worse than it is.”
“No, Paddy, I don’t,” her tone hardens. “This isn’t only your life you’re dealing with. It’s Anya’s, too. Marriage isn’t one of your games, or jokes, that you play.”
“I know that,” I snap.
“Do you? Do you really?” Brenna rises and stares down at me with a cold, angry expression. “Everything has always been about fun for you. Not once in our entire lives have I ever seen you take something seriously. Not a single time. You’re almost thirty years old. When are you going to grow up?”
I reach out for her hand and gently tug. She needs some of the truth. “Sit. Please.”
She glares a second longer before finally slowly lowering herself to perch on the edge of the cushion. There’s no softening to her. Her body is rigid and tense.
“I know that, for the most part, Grand-da left you and Caitlín alone. At least, until it came time for your marriage to Emilio. Then, you were useful to him. It was different for Jack, Nathan, and me. There were certain expectations he had of us. Expectations,”—I swallow back the discomfort of sharing something personal—“I didn’t meet.”
Brenna’s gaze turns quizzical, and she finally loosens her stiff posture. “What do you mean? What kind of expectations?”
I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter anymore. The bastard’s dead, and it was a long time ago. But, man, he loved when people feared him. He got off on the power it gave him. Which is why I refused to show any. Instead, I smiled. Or laughed. Or joked. He hated that so much. It’s why I did it. No matter how often he punished me.”
“Oh, Paddy.”
Jaysus, this is why I didn’t want to say anything. “I’m not looking for your pity,” I bite out and then temper myself. “Sorry. I just told you so maybe you’d understand. At least a little bit. I’m not sure who I am behind the humor. It’s all I’ve ever been.”
Brenna grabs my hand between hers and holds it tight. “That isn’t true. You’re Padraig Cillian Donnelly. A loving son. Loyal brother. Whatever went on between you and Grand-da is in the past. Whoever you were for him isn’t who you have to stay. Like you said, he’s gone. He doesn’t matter anymore. Anya is who matters. You are who matters. Fuck that old man.”
“I know you mean business when you bring out the curse words.” I chuckle to lighten the way too heavy mood but quickly smother it. “Thank you. Truly. I’m sorry I wasn’t a better brother.”
She scoots close and lays her head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a better sister. That I didn’t see how much hurt Grand-da was causing you. We’re twins. I should have known.”
“I didn’t want you to.”
“Still. I should have seen it. I should have been there for you,” Brenna says softly.
We settle into silence. There’s no use lamenting the past. Neither of us can change it. A strong sense of relief rushes over me, though. It feels good to finally tell someone. It’s been a bigger burden to carry than I ever realized.
“Do women like chocolate with their apologies?” I ask.
Brenna laughs. “It certainly doesn’t hurt. And since it’s Anya, a trip to the nursery for flowers would pair well with it.”
“Right.” I squeeze her hand and slowly come to my feet.
I’ve reached my maximum comfort level of sibling bonding time. Hopefully, it gets easier. It feels good to have someone to talk to. Brenna stands, as well.
“Thank you. For everything,” I tell her.
“You’re welcome.” She wraps her arms around me. “I’m always here if you need to talk.”
After a second’s pause, I briefly return the embrace before releasing her. I nod and head for the door. “Give the kids a hug from me.”
“I will.” She smiles. “I love you, Paddy.”
“I love you, too.”
The walk back to my car gives me more time to think. It’s easier than before. I still have no idea what I’m going to do about this marriage. It feels different today than it did even yesterday. Maybe it doesn’t have to be so bad. Maybe Anya and I can be friends.
Except I shouldn’t be attracted to a friend. Especially if that friend is also my wife. It brings far too many complications.
Chapter 24
Anya
* * *
For what seems like the hundredth time, I pick up my phone and reread the text message Paddy sent me this morning. Three short sentences. None of them an apology. I’ve been married one day, and he and I are already fighting. It makes my stomach hurt. I check the time, blow out a frustrated breath, and then set it back on the counter so I can finish putting these groceries away.
As though sensing I’m thinking about him, the front door opens and closes. I hurry to make myself look busy by putting away the couple of boxes of cereal, rice, and my favorite peanut butter in the pantry. In seconds, though, my hands are empty, and there’s no other choice but to shut it and turn around. Paddy stands at the threshold of the kitchen.
“Hi. Sorry, I hope I didn’t scare you,” he says. In his arms is a small, potted plant and a box of chocolate.
I shake my head. “You didn’t.”
He takes a couple steps forward and holds out the items like an offering. “Here. These are for you.”
After only a second’s hesitation, I take them from him. “Thanks.”
“I’m sorry… About this morning,” he clarifies. “I was a shit head, as Caitlín would say. It really wasn’t you I was mad at, by the way. I don’t want you to think that. Anyway, I apologize.”
My gaze drops to the plant and candy in my hand. Is this an olive branch? That’s…sweet.
I chew my bottom lip. After being conditioned by Gornak to keep my mouth shut, it’s still hard for me to speak my mind. If this marriage is going to work, I’m going to have to talk more. Not be afraid to ask questions. “Who were you mad at, then?”
He doesn’t say anything for a minute. “Myself.”
Unsure if I should push for more, I glance away and decide to take some of Caitlín’s advice instead. “I wasn’t really fine with being left alone yesterday.”
Paddy sighs. I jerk my head back up, expecting annoyance. Instead, regret lines his face. “I never should have done that. It was a dick move on my part. I knew it yesterday, and I know it today.”
“Then why did you?” I snap, then close my mouth, instantly regretting opening it in the first place. You never know when to quit.
He actually appears uneasy. There’s a hesitation in him I’m not sure I’ve ever witnessed before. Paddy always has a witty comeback. A sly retort. “I’m not sure you want to hear the answer.”
That gives me pause. It also only makes me more curious. “Try me.”
“Anya—”
“Tell me.” It’s almost a demand.
He sighs and then stares directly into my eyes. “Because I’m attracted to you. And I don’t want to be.”
“Oh,” I breathe out on a long exhale. That is not at all what I imagined Paddy would say. I’m not sure how I feel about his confession. I swallow and shift nervously on my feet. “I see.”
“You don’t have to worry about me acting on it,” he assures me. “Nothing about this marriage has changed. There are hundreds—thousands—of women out there. I’m perfectly content with sampling any number of them. You’re safe with me. I promise.”
Safe. That’s exactly the reason I’d concocted this whole arrangement in the first place. Because Paddy is safe. Except a tiny flicker of a memory of what life was like before flares in my mind. Of innocent fumbling under the cover of night. Of sweet, lingering kisses. Of cuddling.
He continues staring at me, waiting, no doubt, for some kind of response. “Good. I mean, thank you for that. I guess now that we have a better understanding of things, maybe we can try to be friends. Nothing more than that. Just friends.”
“Friends?” His low voice washes over me like a caress. There’s a hint of something in his tone, but I can’t place it.
“Yes.” I let out a soft laugh. Taking a deep breath, I close the distance between us and hold out my hand. “Friends.”
Paddy stares at my outstretched arm long enough to make my cheeks warm, but finally, he places his hand in mine. Warmth engulfs me. The slight abrasion of his palm glides across my skin. I stop breathing. Can he feel my pulse racing?
I shiver and pull my hand from his. It takes all my effort not to clench my fist as though to keep the feel of him within my grasp. I gesture awkwardly to the potted plant. “Thanks again for this. I’m going to take it out to the garden and find a place for it before it gets too late.”
“Yeah, of course.” Paddy points over his shoulder. “I’ve got some things I need to take care of, as well. I hope you like the chocolate.”
He turns on his heel and heads out of the kitchen, leaving me standing there with a racing heart. I cross the short distance to where I set the pot. My fingers gently roam over the leaves. Slowly, my lips tip up into a grin. The chocolate is a nice thought, but this is far more meaningful. I’m going to find the perfect place for this little thing. I can’t wait to watch it grow and bloom. I’m not sure what type of plant it is yet, but whatever it is, it might be my new favorite.
I wipe my dirt-covered hands on my gardening pants and sit back to admire my work. I caress the leaves of the lovely gift from Paddy. I’m so glad I found the perfect spot for it. Giddiness rushes through me.
Footsteps grow near, and I swing around. He approaches, carrying a couple plates. “You’ve been out here for quite a while. I thought you might be a little hungry.”
I carefully stand and wipe the sweat off my forehead with my shirt sleeve. I’m a bit self-conscious about my appearance. My hair is tucked under my big, floppy hat to protect my face. I’m also entirely covered in dirt. “Thanks.”
Paddy gestures toward the narrow bench by the carport. “You wanna have a seat? Or would you rather eat inside?”
A nice breeze is blowing, and the sun is still shining enough that it hasn’t cooled down too much yet. I’m not quite ready to go in. “Here’s good.”
I take a seat at the far end, and he sits at the other before handing me my plate. I nibble at the sandwich on it, entirely too conscious of the man seated so close to me. Say something.
“So, how was your day? Did you do anything exciting? Sorry”—I raise my hand, self-consciousness rising up—“you don’t have to answer that. I haven’t forgotten the rules.”
