Chapter 14
fourteen
GRAY
Gray missed Ciar like a woman with severe arrhythmia missed heartbeats. She craved him, needed him. He had become a life-supporting function as crucial as breathing.
He’d slept over at her place the night before, leaving early in the morning for London to meet his boss.
While they were in Colorado, Ciar had done a fantastic job of pretending he had no worries, but the moment his feet touched Irish soil, a tenseness had taken up residence under his skin.
He promised to call the moment he walked out of his boss’s office, which should have been by eleven that morning.
It was currently six in the evening.
He wasn’t responding to texts or calls, and not even to the stupid email she had succumbed to sending.
She’d spent the early morning doing their laundry, having lunch with the girls, and the past five hours contacting contractors for his new pub.
Ciar had given the real estate agent her number to handle their new “house,” which was really a two-flat monstrosity, less than three blocks from the pub, in a stunningly posh district of downtown Dublin.
His offer had been accepted—of course it had—and she made arrangements to see the property so that, fingers crossed, she could convince the same contractors working on the pub to remodel the two-story.
She was working, doing her job at O’Connor Hospitality with all due diligence. Ciar had one job in her eyes today.
To call.
And he hadn’t.