39. Ravenna
Ravenna
B y the time the holiday season rolls around, I’m settled into my new job.
It’s nothing to brag about, as I mostly run errands for my boss and her personal secretary.
I have been to a few modeling shoots, which are like stepping into a whole other world at the studio.
When we’re doing those, I’m pretty much the gofer for everyone.
I like to think of my position as keeping everyone’s basic needs fulfilled at all times. Preferably before they even ask.
Plus, I’m appreciated. Which is a bonus to my self-esteem that I didn’t expect.
When I told my cousins about my new job, they were happy for me too. For the first time in years, I feel like I’m actually doing something with my life.
At first I thought having to be at work every morning at eight sharp would be a challenge, but now that I’m used to it I’m thriving on the structure of a set schedule.
Monday through Friday, eight hours a day, I know where I’ll be and what’s expected of me.
The weekends are my own time. Most of those are spent with Cian, my cousins, and some me time.
Christmas Eve and Christmas Day the agency closes for the holiday, so I have two extra days off this week.
When Finn pulls the car up to the house after work, Cian’s returning from his day too. We meet at the front door and he leans down to kiss me, lightly, with some reservation, and I sense he’s preoccupied.
He lets us into our home. I’m about to head upstairs to change into something more comfortable when he calls my name. The torment in his voice stops me in my tracks. I turn to face him.
“What’s wrong?” I study his unusually pale skin, the tightness in his shoulders, and the way he seems to draw himself inward.
He clears his throat, a sure sign that he’s nervous about what he’s going to say.
“I don’t want this to ruin our holiday, so may as well get it out now rather than let it fester.
I got checked by the doctor today. I’m damaged.
The torture… There’s only a slim chance of me getting you pregnant.
” His tone drops. “I’m so sorry, broc meala . ”
I reach for him. “It’s okay. I’ve had a feeling that might be the case.” I hug him tight. “I’m so sorry for what you went through, that this happened to you. But we’ll be okay.”
After a moment's hesitation, he envelopes me in his arms. His body shudders with either relief or tension, I can’t tell.
He’s put this off for so long that I never thought he’d get checked out. Now I understand why. As I suspected, he’s been afraid of letting me down. Doesn’t he know that I love him no matter what challenges we face, as long as we strive to overcome them together?
“This doesn’t ruin our holiday, amore mio . I’m glad you talked to the doctor and now we can modify our expectations.”
Though I don’t blame him at all, because it’s not his fault, a piece of my heart breaks. This is the confirmation that I’ve secretly been avoiding thinking on. I might never have a baby.
That realization sinks into my soul. An excruciating sorrow settles in my chest.
He holds me tighter, and I do the same, as if we’re each other’s life lines in a storm. “But we may never have children. It might be the two of us forever. No kids, no grandkids. Can you live with that?”
“Can you?” I pull back enough to see his face. “Am I enough for you?”
This is the worst case scenario, and in all honesty it’s not terrible. I’m so in love with my husband. We’re happy together.
His eyes soften. “Of course you’re enough. You’re more than enough for me.”
I smile up at him, my heart swells. “You’re enough for me too.”
He makes a doubtful face.
I take a moment to gather my thoughts. “I’m serious. Yes, I’ve always wanted a family, especially with you. But if that’s not something God will give us, then I’m grateful he’s given you to me. I love you.” It’s the truth.
“I love you too.” He rests his forehead on mine. “I don’t want to give up trying for a child. But now we know what to expect.”
My heart skips a beat. This isn’t the end, it’s just a bump in the road.
“Exactly. I don’t want to give up either. If it happens, it happens. It may take a miracle, but I’ll pray for that. In the meantime, all I want is you.”
Tension leaves his body all at once. “You’re my life, broc meala .”
“And you’re mine.”
I ’m working in the office today, helping my boss with the flurry of new model applications. Apparently, the start of the new year always brings in a flood of new hopeful models. New Year's resolutions and all of that.
On my way to grab a pitcher of water and ice, I round a corner and collide with a brick wall. At least that’s what it feels like. Two hands reach out to steady me as I regain my balance.
Then my gaze travels up, and up, and up. Amused blue eyes stare down at me. Dirty blond hair, tall, broad… handsome. Stranger. I’ve never seen this man before.
Taking a step back, I demand, “What are you doing in here?”
One corner of his mouth lifts in a casual smirk. “I work here.”
“No you don’t.”
“Hmm, pretty sure I do. Is this Bane Modeling Management?.”
“Well, yes,” I sputter. “What’s your position here?”
“I'm Scott's new assistant. He’s a photographer.”
“I know who Scott is.”
The man holds out his palm. “My name’s Devlin. Devlin Doyle.”
Hesitantly, I shake his hand. At first, I assume he’s a plant. That Cian found some Irishman to take a job here and keep an eye on me. But why do that at all, and especially after all these months. That doesn’t make sense.
So, the more reasonable explanation would be Devlin’s exactly what he appears to be. An Irish-American, with no affiliation to my husband or his gang, who now works at Bane Modeling Management.
Cian’s cousin owns this place, so if he wanted to keep tabs on me that would be easy enough. Not that I think my husband’s the spying type. He simply goes over the top at times in an effort to keep me safe. Which I appreciate—mostly.
“And you are?” Devlin prompts.
I shake myself out of my meandering thoughts. “Ravenna O’Rourke.”
“Nice to meet you.” His gaze appreciatively flits down my body. The fact that he’s checking me out makes me uncomfortable.
“Excuse me.” I move past him, going about my work.
Thankfully, with one last lingering glance at me, he leaves to go do his own job.
I release a heavy sigh. The last thing I need at work is a giant, flirty Celt who reminds me entirely too much of my husband. Sure there are plenty of gorgeous male models around every day, but I’ve never been tempted to spare them more than a glance.
This Devlin fellow, however, makes me uneasy. I think it’s his striking resemblance to Cian.