Chapter 25
CHAPTER 25
CALLUM
M y eyes flew open, and I squeezed them closed again as the bright morning sunlight burned my retinas. Without a thought, I reached for Maeve, cracking one eye back open as my hand felt nothing but dead space.
Jesus Christ, my head hurts.
Groaning, I rolled onto my back and lifted my arm to cover my eyes. Then, I listened for any sounds of life.
Maeve was probably pottering around the place, or maybe she’d gone to curl up in an armchair and read. God knew she’d been neglecting her book boyfriends, as she called them.
A familiar burn hit my chest, and my lungs felt as if they were all twisted up.
Jesus , I had to start dealing with my irrational jealousy. The urge to rip the heads of fictional characters who didn’t actually exist was frankly unhealthy and a little weird. Still, the thought of taking my fists to that Mr. Darcy fucker or those Rhysand and Xaden dudes would be fucking awesome, but I’d have to make sure a dragon or Fae soldier didn’t take me out first.
I groaned out loud again at the mad shite running through my head.
Christ. This was the proof.
My wife sent me doolally.
It was no wonder she thought I was an eejit.
The buzzing of my cell made me groan again, but I sat up and dived across the bed on my stomach to fish around on the floor for my pants. Grabbing my phone from out of my pocket, I cursed under my breath as the buzzing went silent.
That was when I saw I’d had several missed calls from my ma. She probably wanted to find out how last night had gone. She’d been as excited as we were about the big reopening bash but not so excited that she’d put a bra on after six in the evening and come out for a drink.
An unconscious grin stole across my face while the memories of our opening night pinged through my head.
It couldn’t have gone better. The drinks had flown out so fast the staff could hardly keep up with orders, the band had been on fire, and the refurbishment had given the place a sexy, cool atmosphere that the customers seemed to love. All in all, a good craic was had by all. Even Patrick and Liam’s surprise appearance hadn’t put a dampener on the bar’s big night, though I wished the same could’ve been said for Shannon.
My blood cooled as a thought suddenly rushed back to me.
Fuck.
Today was the day I had to tell Maeve everything.
A feeling of dread gripped my chest.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Telling my wife I’d been lying to her ever since the day we got married, hell, even before, wasn’t something I relished. Maeve and I had built something so fucking special; it was hard to believe how far we’d come since the day of Da’s funeral when I thought my entire world had fallen apart.
Throughout the following weeks, it wasn’t just my circumstances that had gradually changed. Anyone could see I’d changed, too. Maeve had altered me on a base level, and her openness and exuberance for life had rubbed off on me in ways that I never thought would or could happen.
I’d always been a closed book. Wary, bordering on suspicious almost.
Maybe it was because it was the way Da was and how he subsequently taught me to be.
Watching him was like observing a chess grandmaster. He was an astute man who prided himself on being ahead of the pack, as proven by the way my marriage had come about. He’d pulled my strings from beyond the grave, though luckily, it had worked out in my favor. However, it could just as easily have all gone horribly wrong.
It was a testament to Maeve’s ability to be so goddamned lovable that shit hadn’t hit the fan. Though the day wasn’t over yet, and I was sure that once I sat her down and explained everything, the shit would go flying everywhere, especially over me.
My phone buzzed again in my hand, and I shook my head, smiling.
Ma was a nut.
I clicked to answer and held it to my ear, drawling, “Mornin’, Mam.”
“Don’t you morning, Mam me,” she screeched, almost deafening me.
“What the fuck, Ma?” I snapped, holding the phone away from my ear.
“You’re an eejit bastard,” she shrieked. “What have you done to my Maeve?”
A weird feeling slid through me. “What do you mean what have I done to Maeve?”
“She’s all hepped up and causing ructions in your da’s study. Something about you, Paddy, and a fecking contract.”
My gut dropped like a lead weight, and my lungs tightened from the panic starting to grip my chest.
Jesus. Fuck, no.
“Tell me,” I urged, jumping out of bed and clicking my cell on loudspeaker before propping it up on the nightstand.
“I don’t fecking know,” Ma hissed. “She turned up here five minutes ago looking for Patrick. As soon as he came downstairs, she went loo-lah at him. Something about the bar and a debt and a contract. What the hell’s going on, Callum?” Ma’s voice lowered to a whisper. “What did you do?”
I tugged on a tee, then hurried to my dresser for some sweatpants. “I’ll be there in five.”
“I’ve never seen her like this, Son,” Mam told me. “You better move your arse.” A click sounded, and I got dead air.
Parking my ass on the edge of the bed, I pulled on my sneakers, grabbed my keys and phone, and headed out. I raced down the stairs with my blood pounding in my ears at the thought of what was to come.
How did Maeve find out?
The bed was still warm from where she’d slept by my side, so how the hell could she have all the information about my fuck-up, when just minutes before, she was asleep next to me. While I was snoring my life away, my entire world had been imploding around me.
I ran out back to the courtyard, not even stopping to lock the doors behind me. Beeping the locks of my truck, I jumped inside, started the engine, and peeled outta there like a bat out of hell. Ma lived about seven minutes away to the north of town, not far from the gated community and the country club. I could do the journey in around four minutes if I put my foot down. I just hoped there were no cops out this early. The last thing I needed was to get involved in a high-speed car chase because I had no intention of stopping my truck until I held Maeve safely in my arms.
My gut filled with nausea, and bile rose through my gullet, but I tamped the sick feeling down, breathing through my nose and out my mouth. I had to keep my shit together, get to Ma’s without totaling my truck, and make sure Maeve was okay.
I rounded the corner to Mam’s street, wondering how the fuck Maeve even got there without me, when I saw Tristan’s canary yellow BMW 3 series parked outside.
“That answers my question,” I muttered sarcastically to myself, maneuvering my truck into a spot where I blocked Tris’s car. The last thing I wanted to do was give Maeve a means of escape. From what Mam said, my wife was mad as hell, and I understood why, but I couldn’t apologize and explain where my head was at if she kept taking off.
Cutting the engine, I threw the door open and jumped down, striding toward the house with my mouth set determinedly.
The front door flew open, and there stood my ma, glancing nervously over her shoulder and wringing her hands together.
“What’s going on?” I demanded, approaching her.
“Maybe you should tell me that?” Mam retorted, her eyes flashing as she watched me slip past her into the foyer. “From what I’ve heard, you, Patrick, and your da have been keeping some secrets, haven’t ya?”
That’s when I heard Maeve’s shriek come from Da’s study at the end of the hallway.
“Fifty grand? That’s all I was worth to you? Fifty measly grand?”
I scraped a hand over my jaw and muttered, “Shit.”
“Oh, Callum,” Ma breathed. “What did you do?”
I thought about lying to her, thought about trying to get out of it and smoothing things over, especially since she’d been struggling after Da’s death. But I couldn’t. Everything was coming out now. The least I could do was be honest and hope the truth of what my aul fella had done to us didn’t send my beloved mother to an early grave.
“Da owed Patrick money,” I scraped out. “I had to marry Maeve, or I would’ve lost the bar.”
All the color drained from her face. “What?”
I jerked a nod. “Three hundred thousand. Paddy’s given me a year to repay it and knocked fifty thousand off the debt for Maeve’s dowry.”
I watched, fascinated, as the paleness of Ma’s skin turned an angry purple color. “That fecking lying bogger bastard,” she snarled. “That lying, manipulative weasel.” Her arm stretched out, and she pointed toward the study. “He’s fecking played ya. Him and your da, they both played ya, Callum, like a goddamned fiddle.” She swung around and stomped into the living room.
My mouth went slack, and I followed her, my brow furrowing in confusion while she went directly to the sofa where Tristan sat with a cuppa on the side table. “What do you mean they played me?” My eyes slid to Tristan. “What’s Maeve said?”
“I’m not talking to you,” he sniped. “You hurt my BFF.”
My heart did a backflip and thudded painfully. “I just need to explain...” I started to say, but he sniffed, tossed his head, and pursed his lips. “I said I’m not talking to you,” he repeated angrily.
Ma reached behind the couch and pulled out her purse. “I can’t believe you,” she grated out, tearing the zip open and rummaging around inside. With a flourish, she pulled out an official-looking brown envelope and tugged a letter from it before thrusting it toward me. “Look,”
Gingerly, I took it and immediately noticed the name of our bank printed across the top. “What’s this?” I asked confusedly.
“It’s my savings statement,” she snapped. “Look at it.”
“No, Ma. I can’t—” I began, trying to hand it back to her.
She leaned toward me, her expression filled with fury, and shrieked, “Look at it!”
Heart galloping, I unfolded the letter, and my eyes widened incredulously when I saw the balance. “What the fuck?”
“Your da left me almost three million dollars, Callum,” she exploded. “Don’t you see? He played you .”
The truth hit me, and my body jerked like I’d been punched in the gut. I raised my hand and leaned against the wall to steady myself and suck some air into my lungs.
You could’ve heard a pin drop. Then, Maeve’s voice filtered in from the study. “You lied to me,” she cried out, her tone filled with pain. “You had to blackmail him to be with me, Patrick. Why would you do that to a man who never wanted me?”
I bowed my head, shamed.
What the hell had I done?
“Callum,” Ma whispered. “Go to her. Make her see.”
Nodding, I stumbled into the hallway and headed down toward the study.
Footsteps sounded from the stairs, and Aislynn’s voice demanded, “What’s going on? Why’s everybody shouting?”
I heard Mam usher her into the living room, her voice just a whisper while she started to explain, but I wasn’t listening—it didn’t even register—all I could think of was getting to Maeve and explaining everything.
It hurt to breathe because my lungs were on fire. My organs ached as if somebody had reached inside me and squeezed hard. The pain in Maeve’s tone caused me pain, too. Everything she felt, I felt, and I couldn’t stand it.
Her name was on my lips when I burst through the door, and I walked straight to her. “You gotta listen to me, wife?—”
“Don’t call me that,” she cried out in a strangled voice, slashing a hand through the air. “It’s all one big lie.” Her pain- filled eyes hit mine, almost sending me on the back foot when I saw the hurt ravaging her face.
“It wasn’t a lie?—”
“It was,” she insisted. “From the day we got married, it was a lie because neither of you were honest. I knew it wasn’t a love match, but I never imagined you were blackmailed into marrying me...” Her words trailed off, and her throat worked as she swallowed down her tears. “At least I didn’t cost you much,” she whispered, her eyes lifting to Paddy. “Fifty grand’s nothing to you.” She let out a brittle laugh, and her gaze drifted toward me. “You should’ve haggled, Callum O’Shea. You could’ve got a hundred grand off the debt if you’d stuck to your guns. Says a lot about me that you didn’t try.”
“No!” I said decisively. “You’re priceless. You’re worth everything.”
She gently swiped under her eyes. “I don’t believe you. All you do is lie to me.”
“I was gonna tell you everything today,” I explained. “I’d already planned to sit you down and tell you the truth.”
A faint smile ghosted her lips. “Shannon and Saskia beat you to it. My dear sister overheard the marriage contract being discussed and put two and two together.” She nodded toward some familiar-looking papers on the desk where Patrick perched, watching us. “And then your ex backed Shannon’s claims up with the proof. She went through your desk and found those the day you were with her in your office.”
My jaw clenched.
Fucking bitches.
Tipping my head back, I cursed at the ceiling before dipping my chin again. “I forgot they were there. I’ve never looked at them since the day I brought you home. It didn’t matter to me. None of it did, not the debt, not the money. All I care about is you.”
“And the bar,” she retorted flatly.
“I won’t lie and say I don’t; the bar is all I have left of my da. But every day, it’s becoming clearer to me that it doesn’t mean shite without you.” I took a step closer to my wife. “Nothing does. You light my world up, Maeve. Buaileann mo chro? duit. Remember?” Emotion thickened my throat when I repeated it in a way she could understand, “My heart beats for you, wife. It always will.”
Tears filled her eyes, and she bowed her head. Her fingers came up to swipe at her face again, and my heart curled into itself when she whispered. “I don’t know what’s real anymore.”
“We’re real,” I pleaded. “I’m so fucking sorry. I lied initially because I worried that if you knew about the debt, you wouldn’t go through with the wedding, but we were real the second I picked you up from the floor in Patrick’s hallway. It took one look, baby, and my heart knew I was gonna marry you whatever happened. It wasn’t because of a debt; it was all you.”
“I asked you,” she cried. “I said, is there anything else you need to tell me, and you said no. You lied to my face.”
“I’ve never viewed our marriage as a business deal,” I protested. “When you asked me that, the truth didn’t even come to mind. It hasn’t been that for me since we left New York—even before then. I know what I said to you in the car after the wedding, baby, but I was an idiot, remember? This has never been about the money or the bar. I’ll sign the Shamrock over to Patrick now if it’s a choice between that and you.”
“You won’t be signing anything over,” she said flatly. “Patrick’s writing the debt off. My dowry just got increased to three hundred thousand dollars.”
“The debt’s gone,” Paddy declared. “Forget it.”
“That’s big of you,” I muttered. “Did Da really owe you, or was it something you and him cooked up between ya?”
“The marriage between you two was agreed years ago,” Patrick admitted. “More recently, me and Lorcan decided you both needed a push. It was your da’s idea—he knew he was dying and wanted you settled, Callum, but I’ll hold my hands up. I was more than happy to go along with it.”
“You sold me, and you manipulated Callum,” Maeve retorted. “All you’ve done is hurt us.” Her stare sliced back to me. “I want this marriage annulled.”
The ache in my chest made me flinch. “No. You promised me you wouldn’t run. You said you’d stay and fight.”
“And you said you’d never lie to me again.” A solitary tear rolled down her cheek. “It looks like we’ll both be disappointed.”
My chest went tight, and something rotten and acidic settled inside my gut. “I don’t know how to let you go, Maeve,” I rasped.
More tears welled in my wife’s beautiful cosmic eyes, and I watched her expression crumble. Her hands came up, and she buried her face in them and sobbed so hard her shoulders shook with it.
I don’t remember moving, but suddenly, I was there, holding her close and burying my face in her hair, inhaling her soft, floral scent into my lungs. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m so, so sorry.”
Standing there, holding my wife while she quietly wept, broke something inside me.
When it came to Maeve, my protective instincts were off the charts. Seeing her in so much pain was shitty enough, but to know it was because of something I did destroyed me. My wife had a beauty within that couldn’t be rivaled. She was quick to laugh and love, and it was my job to nurture that. But I hadn’t. Instead, I’d taken Maeve and her capacity to love for granted.
I was such an asshole.
She hiccoughed, swiped at her face again, and took a step back while shrugging me off. “I-I wanna go home,” she mumbled, looking up at me with a tear-streaked face.
A ray of hope shone inside my chest because her request meant she wasn’t gonna leave my ass, at least not yet. “I can take you home,” I offered.
She drew in a shaky, tear-filled breath. “I need to tell Trist?—”
“You go to the bathroom. Wash your face and catch your breath. I’ll take care of everything.”
Maeve nodded as if she was in a daze, turned, and headed from the room.
I scraped a hand down my face, wondering how the fuck I was gonna remove that lost, vacant look from my wife’s eyes and replace it with the zest for life that usually shone from them.
She looked wrecked.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. I’d married my girl, my best friend. Yesterday, we were happy; we’d opened our bar, and it was a roaring success. Last night, I’d made love to her, and today, we were supposed to celebrate and spend time together as a couple on the brink of getting everything we ever wanted. We were meant to have babies and live happily ever after.
My skin tightened, the itch clawing at it suddenly unbearable.
Jesus. How could I be on the brink of losing her?
Of losing everything?
“I’ll deal with Shannon,” Patrick rasped, fishing his cell from his pocket and tapping on it. “I’ll get her picked up and sent back to New York. She won’t get to Maeve again.”
“It’s too late,” I replied flatly, my eyes glued on the door my wife had just exited. “The damage is done. We did this to her. Shannon was just the messenger.”
“She should’ve kept her mouth shut,” he muttered. “She’s always lurking and listening to my business. I should’ve known she’d catch a clue about all of this; it’s not like we were discreet. Look, I’ll get the deeds to the bar changed into your name and courier them to you, then you can?—”
I rounded on him. “You think I give a fuck about the bar?” I pointed at the door. “My wife’s fucking devastated because of what we did. You and my da started a chain of events and now we’re all suffering for it. You couldn’t fucking help yourselves, could ya? Always interfering.”
“She’ll come around,” Patrick assured me. “You just gotta man up and show her who’s boss.”
“Sweet Jesus,” I muttered frustratedly. “When will you get it through your head that I’m not you, and I’m certainly not my da.”
“You’re a Doyle. And Lorcan was, too.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “No, Paddy. I’m an O’Shea, and so was my da. It’s why he left New York. He didn’t want to give his family a life where we all had to look over our shoulders, and neither do I. All I want is Maeve and the rest of my family, then one day—God willing—I want a couple’a kids and to raise them where it’s safe. You keep trying to involve me in shit I’m not interested in having. I’m not yours or Da’s to manipulate, and neither is my wife, so leave us be.”
“I could give you a good life,” he argued. “You’re smart, quick-thinking, and you hold yourself well. The men would respect you—hell, they already do. You’d be the perfect second for Liam. I could make you a very rich man, Callum. You and Maeve would want for nothing.”
“Like Maeve’s da? Did he want for nothing?” I asked, dipping my chin and holding his stare. “Wasn’t her aul fella your second when he died?”
Plan flashed in the back of his eyes, and for the first time ever, Patrick Doyle, the ruthless, hard-man Mafia boss, gave me something of himself. “Yeah, he was,” he croaked. “Grady was my second. Point taken.” He snorted, though there wasn’t a trace of humor in it, and his stare drifted over my shoulder while one side of his mouth tipped up. “Heya, love.”
I craned my neck, the ache in my chest intensifying when I saw Maeve standing at the door with her long sleeves covering her hands, hugging herself.
“I’m ready to go,” she announced in a flat, expressionless tone, her eyes not meeting mine. “Tristan’s just left.”
“Okay, baby,” I murmured, moving toward her and holding my fingers out for her to take.
She looked down at it as if I’d just shit in my hands and clapped. She tossed her hair and walked ahead of me, pausing to stick her head around the living room door. “Bye, Ma, we’re off now.”
Ma came bustling out into the hallway, with Aislynn following close behind. “Come here, love,” she crooned, holding her arms out wide.
Maeve walked into the warmth of her embrace, her chest heaving as she stutter-sighed. “I’m sorry for disrupting your Sunday.”
“We’ll have none of that,” Mam told her indulgently. Her hands went to Maeve’s shoulders, and she held her away slightly, giving her a sympathetic look. “You’ll ring me tonight.” It was more of a statement than a question.
Maeve blinked and nodded.
Ma’s stare came to me and hardened. “You go to the truck, love,” she murmured, her tone turning into a hiss when she continued, “I just need a quick word with my son.”
Heart pounding, I handed Maeve my keys and nervously began chewing the inside of my lip when she took them without even a glance at me.
I had my work cut out, but at least she was coming home instead of refusing to deal with me at all. The thought of not being with my wife, not sitting in the same room with her, and not lying by her side at night made the ache in my chest so intense it took my breath away.
The front door snicked shut softly behind Maeve.
“Ya bloody eejit,” Ma bit out. I looked around just in time to see her open palm jerking upward, and she smacked me hard upside the head. “You’re a cocky little shit you are.”
My hands went to the back of my skull, and I rubbed at the painful sting while the sound of the stinging slap still ricocheted through my ears. “Jesus, Ma,” I protested.
“Trust you to bollocks everything up,” she screeched. “I should’ve known you were up to something. I thought that one of my sons had finally grown up when you announced you were getting wed, but you did it to line your pockets, didn’t ya?” Her head swiveled to face Patrick. “And as for you and Lorcan cooking up your stupid ideas. You should be ashamed of yourselves. That poor, sweet girl’s been crying her heart out for the past thirty minutes because the two men in her life she’s meant to be able to trust the most can’t keep the lies outta their mouths.”
I rubbed the spot on my head where Mam had clipped me. “I’ll make it up to her, Ma. I’ll prove to Maeve she can trust me.”
“You better,” she grated out. “Or a clip around the ear will be the last of your worries.” Her eyes darted back to Patrick. “Now, what’s all this about a loan?”
He had the grace to look sheepish. “I’ve written it off.”
“I bet you have,” she spat. “You’ve written off a loan that probably only existed on paper because it was made up between you and my dead husband to make him, ” she jerked her thumb at me, “get his head out of his arse. Well, you can turn back around, walk inside that study, and write out a letter of intent saying the bar belongs to Callum. Then, I want the deeds back in his name within the week.”
Patrick’s lips twitched, and he nodded.
“Well, get,” Ma ordered. “And you, too, Callum. Go home and see to your poor wife. You’ve got some major groveling to do because, after this latest stunt, your marriage is well and truly on the rocks. If I lose my Maeve because of this crap, I’ll make you sorry you were born.”
My throat worked, but not because of Ma’s threat.
If my wife walked out on me, Mam wouldn’t have to worry about taking me down. Life without her would destroy me anyway. It was like I told her on opening night...
She’d saved me from myself.
Maeve Monroe was my salvation.