Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
KIERAN
I pull into the driveway of the Sullivan estate and park beside Ronan’s Mercedes. I haven’t been here in a couple of weeks, but I’m in desperate need of a change of scenery. That and I had no intention of being home when Riley and her friend will likely be taking over the place.
I let myself in and head toward the living room, following the sound of the TV and Ciara swearing under her breath.
I find her propped up on the couch with her legs stretched out over a nest of pillows and blankets, with one hand cradling the underside of her belly while the other scrolls through her phone.
She glances up as I loiter in the doorway. “Jesus, do none of you knock anymore?”
“Didn’t realize you would be lounging in this state.” A hint of a grin tugs at my mouth.
She smirks. “Well, the queen is officially off her feet.” She wiggles her toes. “Doctor’s orders.”
“Could have fooled me.” I eye the mess of baby books and fabric swatches that cover the coffee table.
I’m not particularly close to Ciara, but one thing I do know about her is that she doesn’t like to sit still, ever.
She scowls. “This is me resting. It’s driving me fucking insane.”
I chuckle as I cross over and perch on the arm of the couch.
“That’s kind of why I came by.”
I was planning on talking with Ronan first about my idea of sending Riley over here, but considering the fact that Ciara will be the one hanging out with her, I figure I should ask her too.
She raises an eyebrow.
“You came by to see me?” She places a hand on her chest. “I’m touched.”
Her voice drips with sarcasm, and I roll my eyes.
I’ve never had a sister, so I don’t have anything to compare it to, but my relationship with Ciara feels very much like what I imagine having a sister would be like.
But I’ve come to appreciate her company, not that I would ever tell her that. She wouldn’t let me live it down.
“Don’t let it go to your head.” I scoff. “I’ve got a favor to ask.”
“Oh? Do tell.” She sits up a little straighter and pushes her blonde hair out of her face.
“Riley.” I pause to gauge her reaction. “She’s climbing the walls back at the apartment, and I thought maybe she could come and spend a few hours a day over here to keep you company and help get things ready for the babies.”
Ciara blinks. “You want me to babysit your wife?”
“Don’t start. She said the exact opposite when I suggested it to her.”
Ciara laughs, but then winces and adjusts her position on the couch.
“Honestly? I wouldn’t mind the company. No offense to Ronan and the army of staff he’s hired, but I could use someone to talk to who doesn’t treat me like I’m made of glass.”
“Trust me, Riley won’t. She’s mouthy and stubborn.”
“Sounds like someone I know,” Ciara smirks.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“I’m good with her coming over, but it’s Ronan who will get the final say. You know how protective he is.” She sighs, rubbing her belly. “He’s in the study, by the way.”
I nod as I climb to my feet.
“Oh, and, Kieran?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s nice to see you.”
“Pregnancy has made you soft, McCarthy.”
“Want to bet?”
I laugh. “I take it back; you’re a Sullivan through and through.”
She grins, and I chuckle under my breath as I head out into the hallway.
The door to the study is ajar, and I half-heartedly knock as I enter.
Ronan is standing behind the enormous desk with his arms crossed as he stares down at a bunch of surveillance photos. I can practically see the weight of responsibility etched into his face as he frowns.
When I close the door behind me, he glances up. “Kieran.”
“Ronan.” I take a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk and cross an ankle over a knee. “Anything good?” I glance at the photos.
He sinks down into his chair, raking a hand through his hair as he stares at the documents in front of him. “Unfortunately, no. Anyway, what’s up?”
“Riley needs out of the apartment.”
Ronan finally lifts his head and gives me that tired, older-brother look that makes me feel like I’m twelve and about to be lectured. “What did she do this time?”
“She asked to meet Lucy for coffee.”
Ronan raises an eyebrow. “And you said no, obviously.”
“I compromised and said Lucy could come over to my place.”
“That’s not like you to invite people over to your place. It looks like married life has made you go soft,” he gives me a knowing look.
I scowl. “I’m trying to keep her safe. Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Then what did you want to talk about?”
“I suggested that Riley could come over here and spend some time with Ciara. Maybe help her organize baby stuff or just…talk.”
“That’s actually a great idea.”
I shrug like it doesn’t matter, even though I feel a flicker of pride.
“I figured it would be good for both of them. Riley’s climbing the walls, and I’m sure Ciara will be just as bad in a few days.”
Ronan nods, looking thoughtful. “It sounds like Riley needs to feel useful, and Ciara’s not going to listen to the nurses no matter how many times I tell her to rest. Having someone her age around might make her more likely to actually stay put.”
“Exactly. It’s a win-win.”
“And it might help Riley feel like part of the family, even if things between you two are…” He gives me a pointed look.
“Complicated.”
Before either of us can say more, my phone buzzes in my pocket with an incoming call from Brennan.
“What’s up?” I ask, grateful for the interruption.
I didn’t come here to have a heart-to-heart with my brother over my fake marriage to a woman I might be falling for.
“I need someone to cover for me for a few hours. I haven’t eaten since yesterday, and I smell like I crawled out of a garbage truck.”
“Nothing new there, then.”
“I’m serious, Kieran. I need a fucking shower. Can you send someone to cover or what?”
“Where the hell is Cormac?” I glance up at Ronan, but he’s back to poring over the documents in front of him, pretending not to listen.
“That’s the thing. He got a call about an hour ago and just took off.”
“He took off? Where did he go?”
“He didn’t say.”
My jaw clenches. “Of course he didn’t… Fine, I’ll send Doyle over to relieve you.”
“Thanks. I just need a few hours, and then I can head right back to the post.”
I hang up the call and stuff my phone back into my jacket pocket, my hands already shaking.
Fucking Cormac.
Of all the people who should understand what’s at stake right now, it should be him.
Sean O’Keefe is circling us like a damn shark, and Cormac just walks out without warning? Again?
It’s not the first time he’s chosen something, or more likely someone, over the family, and if he doesn’t start getting his priorities straight, maybe it’s time he learns what it costs to be unreliable.
“Thanks for backing the Riley thing.” I stand, not bothering to question Ronan about Cormac. “She’s been…difficult.”
“She’s lost autonomy over her life; give her some grace.”
“I’m trying to keep her alive.”
“Well, hopefully this arrangement will make things more bearable for all of us.”
“I’ll bring her over in the morning.”
As I pass through the hallway, I glance back toward the living room where Ciara is still buried under a fortress of pillows, absently scrolling through her phone again.
It hits me then how much weight Ronan carries on his shoulders and how much Ciara trusts him to carry it.
I can’t help but wonder how different things must feel when you know someone is really in your corner, and I can’t help but wonder whether Riley will ever be in mine.
I don’t arrive home until the evening, and when I do, I decide to lock myself away in my study to get some more work done. I need the distraction, if only to stop myself from seeking out Riley.
I’m poring over some surveillance footage from the docks when my inbox dings. I load up my inbox and frown when I see the notification.
The email is from Aiden Clark, and the subject line is Riley’s background check.
I had completely forgotten I even requested this. It was back when she asked for a formal contract to be drawn up, and I suspected there was more to her than was meeting the eye.
Part of me wants to just delete it. We’re past the point of no return now anyway, but curiosity gets the better of me.
I open up the attachment and scroll through the first few pages. It’s nothing out of the ordinary—just her birth certificate and school transcripts.
As expected, she has a clean academic history, a stellar GPA, and a handful of awards and scholarships. There’s no history of criminal charges either, except a single speeding ticket when she was nineteen.
I continue scrolling, briefly skimming her college admissions essay until I land on transcripts from therapy sessions Riley attended back when she was a young teenager.
I pause, frowning when I read that her attendance was mandatory following a car accident that killed her mom as well as her sister.
Riley had a sister?
A tightness coils in my chest as I skim through the records.
I knew that her mother’s death was traumatic from the way she shut down my attempt to ask her about it when we were in Vegas, but she never mentioned she had a sister.
According to the records, she was fourteen when the accident happened, which means she was old enough to remember every little detail.
As I read, one of the early notes that the therapist scribbled down stands out to me.
The patient displays symptoms of survivor’s guilt but remains highly resilient.
Shows above-average empathy and maturity.
Engages well.
Coping mechanisms are largely healthy.
I swallow hard.
Riley was in the car when they got hit, but she was the only one who survived.
Jesus.
I lean back, my hand tightening on the mouse.
I’m still staring at the screen, but I’m not really seeing it anymore.
Her behavior makes sense now, in a messed-up, painful kind of way. The distance she’s been putting between us, the sharp edges that weren’t there before. It’s not just about me or the marriage or even Sean O’Keefe. She’s scared of letting someone in and of loving them, only to end up losing them.
This insight into Riley’s past shouldn’t make me feel better, but it does. At least this helps me understand what could be going on inside her head.
I’m not good with uncertainty, and this gives me something to work with. But until I actually talk to Riley, this is all just guesswork, and that’s the part I keep avoiding.
I’m not built for vulnerability. Riley throws me off balance in ways no one else ever has.
But I’m not going to figure her out from behind a locked door, and I’m sure as hell not going to figure it out through background checks.
I need to talk to her, and I mean really talk to her if I have any chance of rebuilding things between us. Because I’m starting to realize that whatever the hell is happening between us, it’s not just pretend anymore.
And maybe it never was.