Chapter Five
CIARA
I glance at the clock on my nightstand and groan.
It’s barely six in the morning, and my bedroom is still cast in darkness.
It’s too early to be awake, but I know there’s no point in hoping for sleep to come.
My thoughts haven’t stopped racing since that night, and no matter how many breathing exercises I try, nothing seems to quiet my mind.
So, I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling instead.
It’s been two whole days since Max died and I stormed into that warehouse, ready to shoot a man in order to save my best friend. But it feels like decades, mainly because Ronan is still barely talking to me. At least not about things that matter.
He’s spent much of his time locked away in his office. When I hover outside the door, he is usually pacing, followed by the clink of a glass.
We all have our different ways of coping, but I hadn’t expected him to be like this. I thought after spending the night together, all would be forgiven, but the sex seems to have only made him angrier.
I get why he’s upset; I really do. I didn’t tell him about what Max did, and I ran off to help Mila without explaining everything. But I tried. I tried to talk to him that night, and he wouldn’t let me get a word out. He shut me down before I could say anything.
“Urgh.” I throw back the sheets.
I’m exhausted from being stuck in my own head, so I drag myself out of bed and throw on a sweatshirt over my pajamas.
My limbs feel heavy, and my eyes sting from a lack of sleep, but lying in bed won’t fix anything. Coffee might.
As I head downstairs toward the kitchen, I pass Ronan’s office and hesitate outside.
The door is closed, but light filters through the crack at the bottom, so I know he’s in there.
Part of me wants to knock on the door and extend a hand. But the other part of me, the bruised, exhausted, and prideful part, tells me not to. Forcing Ronan to talk will just make things worse. I miss him, but I have to be patient.
He’ll come to me when he’s ready.
Ignoring the ache in my chest, I head into the kitchen to make myself coffee.
I’m halfway through grinding some beans when my stomach churns, and my mouth fills with saliva.
“Oh, God.” I dump the coffee grounds in the bin and run to the sink, starting to dry heave.
The last few days have affected me a lot. This nausea has been kicking my ass. And it’s even reacting to the coffee now.
It probably doesn’t help that I’ve barely eaten either, but the thought of food has me wanting to throw up. So, I bypass the coffee and settle on making a mug of ginger tea in the hopes of calming my anxiety.
The kettle whistles loudly as I hunt through the cupboard for the tea. After pouring in the hot water, I wrap my hands around the mug and breathe in the steam, letting it warm my skin.
I’m just sliding into a chair at the kitchen table when soft footsteps approach.
I glance up to see Mila padding into the kitchen, wearing my old college sweatshirt and a pair of pink and white plaid pants. Her eyes are bloodshot and hollow-looking, and her dark hair is limp around her face.
It seems I’m not the only one who can’t sleep.
“Hey. You okay?”
She nods, but we both know she’s far from okay.
“Couldn’t sleep either?”
She shuffles over to the coffee machine. “Something like that.”
I sit quietly as she makes herself a drink, trying not to wrinkle my nose as the bitter smell of espresso fills the kitchen.
She takes a seat at the table. “I was up most of the night planning the funeral.”
I flinch.
I still can’t quite get over the fact that Max is gone and that I’ll never see him again.
“Oh, Mila.” I reach across the table to squeeze her hand.
Her face crumples as she fights to hold it together, but the tears start to fall anyway.
There are no words I can say that can take away her pain, but I hope that just being with her can bring her some comfort.
She pulls her hand free to wipe at her damp cheeks. “My parents want to keep it small. Immediate family only. It’s more private that way.”
“Of course.”
“Mom’s asking me about flowers and songs, but it all seems so irrelevant, you know?”
I nod as I quietly sip my tea, giving Mila the space to talk.
“She’s offering suggestions of songs by all these famous classical artists when I know Max would hate all of them. Knowing him, he would’ve probably wanted ‘Thunderstruck’ by ACDC.”
I can’t help but snort into my tea. “It would be iconic.”
“Anyway, I suppose the funeral is just as much for Mom as it is for Max.”
“It’s for all of you.”
Mila bites her lower lip as she looks down at her coffee, a few stray tears sliding down her cheeks.
“If there’s anything you need…”
She gives me a tired smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Just being here is help enough. I don’t really want to be alone right now.”
“Well, you can stay as long as you need to. I mean it. Having you here… it’s helping me too.”
Mila and I stay at the kitchen table until the sun starts to come up, and I decide it’s time to take a shower and change into something that isn’t pajamas.
I take my time standing under the hot water, letting it loosen my tight muscles and bring some color back into my skin. I wash my hair twice and lather myself in more bubbles than necessary to try and wash away the phantom smell of rust and blood that still haunts me.
After my skin is bright red from the hot water, I shut it off and wrap myself in a towel before heading back into my bedroom just as my phone starts buzzing on the bed. I retrieved it from Ronan’s office in a rare moment when he was out.
I frown at the unknown number flashing on my screen, my stomach fluttering.
Could it be Max’s killer?
I stand frozen, staring at my phone, until the call ends. Only then do I release a breath and grab it off the bed just as a notification for a voicemail comes through.
I know I should probably go and get Ronan and have him listen to it too, but then I realize I’m probably being silly.
It could be any number of people trying to call me. But I won’t know until I listen, so I hit play and hold the phone up to my ear.
“This is a message for Ciara McCarthy. This is Dr. Lane from New York Presbyterian. If you could give me a call back on this number…”
My relief at realizing it’s only Dr. Lane is short-lived as I wonder why on earth she’s calling me. I thought I was given the all-clear…
I dial the number and perch on the edge of the bed as it starts to ring.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Dr. Lane? This is Ciara McCarthy.”
“Hi, Miss McCarthy, I appreciate you calling me back.”
“Is everything okay?”
“I just wanted to follow up on your blood work. It seems something was missed.”
“Oh?”
“It’s nothing urgent, but it seems the resident taking care of you failed to disclose your elevated hCG levels.”
“I don’t understand…”
“You’re pregnant, Miss McCarthy.”
A hysterical laugh escapes my lips before I have a chance to stop it. “You can’t be serious.”
“Your blood work confirms it.”
“B-but I thought… My periods are too irregular. I didn’t think it was possible.”
“Based on your hormone levels, I suspect you’re around six weeks along, so I’d like to get you in for an appointment just to confirm everything and talk you through your options.”
Pregnant.
I stare at the wall, barely registering anything that Dr. Lane is saying.
I’m pregnant. I’m carrying Ronan Sullivan’s child, the heir to the Sullivan empire.
“Miss McCarthy? Does Friday morning at eleven work for you?”
“Y-yes, that’s fine.”
The moment the call ends, I sit staring at my phone as I try to comprehend what I’ve just learned, which is a hell of a lot easier said than done.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I don’t even notice Mila knocking on the door or opening it for that matter.
“Ciara? Are you okay?”
I make a noise, somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
“What is going on?” She steps into the room and closes the door behind her.
“I just got a call from Dr. Lane.”
“Who?”
“The doctor from the hospital.”
Her brows pull together in a frown. “What did she want?”
“To tell me I’m pregnant.”
Mila stares at me, wide-eyed. “Wait, seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Oh, my god, Ciara.”
“I know…”
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. I mean, I never thought I would get pregnant, at least not without seriously trying, so I feel like I should be jumping for joy. But…”
Mila sits beside me on the bed. “It’s all right to feel unsure. This is unexpected.”
“You can say that again.”
“Do you… want it?”
The question hits me harder than I expect.
“I don’t know. I think so… yeah. It’s just kind of surreal right now, like it’s happening to someone else. But I think there’s a part of me that’s happy. Scared, but happy.”
“And Ronan?”
I groan, burying my face in my hands. “I hadn’t even thought about Ronan.”
Mila chuckles softly under her breath.
It’s the first time I’ve heard her laugh in days, and the sound makes the corners of my lips twitch despite everything.
“I don’t know how I’m going to handle him. I mean, look at how he’s acting right now. He won’t even talk to me.”
Mila is quiet for a moment. “Do you think he would be angry at the idea of having a kid?”
“No, he wouldn’t be angry. I know he wants kids eventually, but he never explicitly said with me.”
My throat tightens at that realization, and it hurts more than I care to admit.
“He’ll probably just think it’s some ploy to fix things between us.” I fiddle with the edge of my towel.
“It might not be the worst thing. A way to break the ice.”
“Or it could end up being the iceberg that ends our relationship.”
Mila rolls her eyes at me.
“Sometimes I forget how dramatic you are.”
“It’s a gift. Anyway, I have an appointment on Friday morning to confirm everything.”
“Do you want me to go with you to the appointment?”
I glance up at her, surprised by how relieved I feel at the idea of having her there with me.
“Would you?”
“Of course. You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”
It’s all I can do to offer her a weak smile as my throat is too thick with emotion to speak.
I press a hand to my stomach as I try to come to terms with my new reality.
There is a life growing inside me, a life that I made with Ronan Sullivan of all people.
Suddenly, everything feels different, as if a thread has been pulled and now the whole direction of my life has changed.
I should be overjoyed, but I can’t ignore the fact that Ronan is choosing to shut me out and hide in his anger and grief, leaving me to carry a secret that could ultimately change everything.