Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 87709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“Don't push your fucking luck,” Seamus says, winking at me. “This isn’t finished, Declan. O’Brien answers to people who don’t stop because one plan failed. We got the intel. We got Torin. Esposito’s got O’Brien in custody, but Boston’s still there.”
“Aye.” I nod. I know he’s right.
“But tonight… go tend to Bridget.” Seamus turns and follows after his father.
I let out a breath. I feel like I've been holding it for fucking years.
There's still Valentina, the Boston Irish, and a thumb drive full of things that could set it all on fire. There’s a child who doesn't yet know what world they're being born into, and Bridget in the other room, whom I’m madly fucking in love with.
But right now, all I want is her, alone.
Mine.
Epilogue
Three weeks later…
BRIDGET
Declan's moving in today. To my flat.
He says his is a shithole, and he doesn't like it anyway, and that we have good memories here. We'll need a bigger place before the baby comes, but as Dr. Rosenberg mentioned, I've got plenty of time for that.
They’re working out what happened with the imposter, and rumor has it they’ve found the real Valentina.
According to Declan, Seamus wants to see me. Today’s a big day all around, really.
I want to pinch myself. I'm so excited. It feels like all the time I've spent with him has been stolen and hushed, and it’s always been charged with something shameful. But not this time. No, not this time. Declan's mine.
“Jesus,” his brother Colm says, hauling a huge, heavy box. “How many pairs of trainers do you have?”
Declan trucks in carrying another. He has precisely one pair of sandals I made him buy for when we go to the beach, two pairs of boots—one black, one brown—one shiny pair of dress shoes, and more trainers than I can count.
“Don't know what you're whining about,” Declan says.
I've been down to pick up a bag of snacks. “Did he bring the peanut butter chocolate?”
“Of course,” Declan says.
“I think I'm going to order food from the chipper,” Seamus says, appearing from nowhere in the way that he does. “Bridget. Why don't you come?”
Declan narrows his eyes at him.
“We'll talk later, Dec. Let's go,” he says to me.
So I do.
I feel a little bit like I'm being called into the headmaster’s office, which is slightly unnerving, if I'm being honest. But he opens the car door like a gentleman, and I slide into the leather seat. The McCarthys drive nice cars.
Seamus is a little gray around the temples in a way he wasn't when he first married Zoya—at least, that's what I'm told, and I've seen the pictures. He looks older now. No word of a lie, I'm still a little afraid of him.
Okay, I’m very afraid of him.
I wonder if he took me on this car ride because he doesn't have to make eye contact while he drives.
“I'm sorry,” Seamus says.
I have to admit, I’m shocked. I never heard of him apologizing before.
“Seamus.”
“Listen,” he begins. “There was a time when I made Declan make a promise. A fair promise. A good one to keep you safe. I owed your parents nothing for what they did. Declan gave everything for you, his assets, his freedom. Himself.”
I stare at him. “He did?” I whisper.
“Aye. I was too determined to see the promise kept and not enough to see it was costing him everything. He promised me he would marry into the family of my choosing and signed over his assets. And in exchange, I kept you safe. I made you part of this family. I made sure you had a job and guards, a stipend, and a place here.”
I swallow hard. Declan did that for me?
I stare at Seamus.
I know I should say something. I always have something to say, but this time… this time, I’ve got nothing.
He gave up everything. Seamus’s words.
It isn’t just a figure of speech or a romantic gesture, but the truth.
I think about the hospital visits. The texts at two in the morning, the ones that started and stopped, never quite saying what needed to be said. I think about the times I felt rejected, believing I didn’t matter to him, when in reality, it was the opposite. I think about every time he came back, every ice cream run, every time he showed up just to make sure I’d eaten, that I wasn’t in pain, and that I was taking care of myself.
He did this all because… because I’m his.
I’ve spent a long time feeling like I was on the edges. Welcome, but not belonging. Loved, but not claimed. I told myself I’d made peace with it. I told myself a lot of things.
And I was wrong about all of it.
My hand finds my belly without me deciding to, automatically, like my body has already started thinking for two. There’s a whole person, our baby, who exists now, a testament to our two lives woven together irrevocably.