2. Declan
2
DECLAN
S inead and Catie lived in half of an old house that had been turned into two apartments. I’d barely knocked when the door opened, and Catie came flying into my arms.
“Uncle Declan!”
I dropped my overnight bag, scooped her up, and hugged her tight. She was taller than she’d been at Christmas, but she still had the round cheeks, bright blue eyes, and wispy brown hair I remembered. She clung to me tightly.
“There, there,” I said softly, rubbing her back. “Your mum has explained that you’re visiting me, right?”
She nodded, looking worried.
I tugged her ear, and she giggled.
“It’ll be brilliant, I promise. Now go get your suitcase. I need to talk to your mum.” I set her down, and she dashed to her room.
I poked my head in rooms until I found Sinead, sitting in a small, cluttered kitchen. She looked thinner than the last time I saw her—too thin—and her dark hair was lank and lifeless. She was hunched over the kitchen table, but she looked up at my entrance and her stark blue eyes—the same color as mine—looked weary and washed out.
I sat down in the chair across from her and cleared my throat. “I’ve found a good treatment center nearby. Serenity Lake. They suggested a sixty-day stay.”
“What? No, that’s too much. I want to do St. Marks for thirty days. It’s cheaper.”
Damn her stubbornness. I’d throw her over my shoulder and cart her off to Serenity Lake myself if I had to.
“I don’t care about the cost,” I gritted out. “This one’s better. And I’ve already signed you up.”
She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it and sighed. “Fine. Fine. Thank you.”
Watching the fight go out of her that fast scared me. It wasn’t like her at all. I reached for her hand. “What happened, love?”
She pulled away. “It doesn’t matter. I realized I had a problem, so I’m fixing it.”
I frowned. It did matter, damn it. What she was going through mattered to me. But I didn’t want to push her. Not when she looked like she was barely holding herself together.
Catie came into the room, dragging her pink-and-purple suitcase behind her. “I’m ready,” she announced.
Sinead looked toward her daughter. “Did you pack any clothes? Or just toys and books?”
Catie looked sheepish.
Sinead stood and took Catie’s suitcase. “I’ll make sure you have everything else you need.” Then she left. I caught her wiping at a tear as she stepped out of my sight.
Searching for something to distract Catie, I remembered Olivia’s business card in my pocket. “Want to help me pick your new nanny? They’ll look after you while I’m at work, so I want it to be someone you like.”
Catie hesitated. “Can we find someone whose favorite color is also purple?”
I smiled, my heart cracking a bit. I wanted to make sure Catie only ever remembered this as a fun summer holiday when she’d been spoiled rotten. “Absolutely,” I promised.
Catie went to join her mum, and I pulled out my phone, taking a second to check my always-exploding inbox. There were about a dozen fires that needed putting out, as usual, and the temptation was strong to dive into work and start fixing things…but no, that wasn’t what this day was about.
One email did catch my eye—from the Glenhaven Club, an organization I’d joined a few years back. I’d never thought of myself as the type to join a billionaire’s club…but I had to admit, it came in damned useful from time to time. Thanks to the Glenhaven Club’s residences in nearly all the major cities around the globe, I knew that wherever business took me, I was guaranteed a place to hang my hat—not to mention, an opportunity to make connections and get in some networking.
Seeing the email put me in mind of someone I’d met a few months back when I’d been in New York for a conference—the CEO of Branson Designs, a legendary fashion line. I wasn’t usually a fan of to-the-manor-born, silver-spoon types, but James was surprisingly down to earth. Family-focused, too—fiercely committed to keeping his family’s brand going for the sake of his gran, who’d started the business and who’d apparently had a pretty big hand in raising him.
And…well. He’d also mentioned his brother. Who’d had some issues with substance abuse and who’d gone through a rehab program.
Would he maybe have some advice to offer? I found myself pulling up his contact info and shooting him a text. Nothing too detailed, just asking if he was around and had a moment to talk. Seconds later, my phone started ringing, and I couldn’t help but smile. I had a great program lined up for Sinead, I’d soon have a nanny for Catie, and I had good friends to give me advice.
This was all going to be fine. I’d find a way through it, just like I always did.