Chapter 22
twenty-two
CIAR
Ciar left Imogen with Tina at his flat in London. He would only be gone one night, but it killed him to leave his sweet girl. Nothing, however, would keep him from seeing Gray.
He’d practiced his speech for days. He’d made up his mind he was going to tell her everything. Even the parts that he’d rather stay unknown forever.
He was wearing a sharp, black Armani suit, diamond-crusted cufflinks, and his favorite Blancpain Villeret keeping time on his wrist.
He’d gotten dressed in his old room at Daniel and Jonathan’s townhouse, half hoping he might catch a glimpse of Gray next door.
He never saw her.
His best friends were unusually quiet. Courteous but distant. Nothing of their years-old camaraderie was present.
They were having a drink in the kitchen before their car picked them up to take them to Gray Eyes.
Not willing to allow the uncomfortable silence to last, he cleared his throat to get their attention. “Things have been difficult. I apologize for keeping quiet.”
They didn’t respond, just continued to take nips of their whiskey. Clearing his throat yet again and tugging at his shirt cuffs, he tried again.
“I plan on explaining everything to Gray first. Then I’ll tell you, I promise.”
“Do you know how many times we’ve spoken to Gray in over two months?” Daniel asked harshly.
“Once,” Jonathan growled. “Your business is your business, Ciar, but those four girls are our best friends, and you’ve mistreated one of them.”
“How are we supposed to be okay with that?” Daniel finished.
“Damn it,” he rubbed his hand roughly over his face, “you’re not. I’m ashamed, okay?” Finishing off his Absolut and lime, he slammed the glass tumbler to the bar. “I never meant for it to go on this long.
“I know you all think I’m some sort of cheater, but that isn’t true. I’ve just been a fucking liar because I’ve been afraid to lose her.”
“You already lost her, bro. She blocked our numbers weeks ago, and the girls refuse to give us access to Gray because we’re friends with you,” Daniel explained, finishing his own two fingers of Three Wolves.
“I’m glad to hear you didn’t disrespect her like it seemed you had, but brother, seriously, clean up your shit.” Jonathan finished his drink and announced their car was pulling up.
“Listen, Ciar,” Daniel started, “despite your personal shitshow of a life, I’m proud of you. Gray Eyes looks to be a success. Let’s go and enjoy the night.”
“The success is Gray’s.”
As they moved out of the kitchen, Jonathan stopped abruptly and placed his hand on Ciar’s chest, halting him as well.
“Nice ink, dickhead.”
Daniel flipped an overhead light on, his eyes widening at the new tattoo taking up the remaining real estate on Ciar's neck.
“Jesus, dude. You never stopped caring about her, did you?”
Ciar shoved by both of them. “Let’s go.” Two weeks after Imogen was born, he’d gotten the new ink. Gray Imogen. The two loves of his life.
A doorman opened the massive wooden and steel door for the three men. The door sported an impressive carving of the Murphy crest. He never okayed the expense, but it had Gray’s attention to detail all over it.
Being cut out of her life, her thoughts, had been hell, but he supposed it must feel the same on her end. She had loved him. Jesus, please let her still.
His whole body felt like he’d rolled in stinging nettles. His suit felt restrictive, as if his chest were in a vise.
He was going to come face-to-face with Gray tonight. Ciar smiled and took pictures with several of the evening's guests, who kept approaching him to congratulate the pub's success. He ordered drinks, shook hands, and watched his dream coming to fruition in real time.
His father and Uncle Cormac were in attendance and looking sharp. They commandeered a table in the cigar room, and Ciar imagined they’d be there until closing.
He gripped his vodka and orange on the rocks so tightly he hoped Gray had chosen sturdy glassware. He couldn’t help but ask his friends, “When are the girls to be here?”
Daniel gave him a sharp look but answered, “Anytime.”
As if his query called them, Mags walked through the door, beautiful with her “Don’t mess with me” expression, her brunette hair swinging with every sway of her hips.
Blair was next, brilliant red hair tamed in one thick, puffy braid down her slim back, and then Bébhinn, the dark-haired O’Faolain princess on the arm of her fiancé, Dagr Griffiths.
All eyes seemed to focus on the parade of gorgeous women. Ciar took a deep breath, realizing if he held it any longer, he would pass out.
Any second, a leggy, golden-haired bombshell would enter the new pub that she’d had a hand in creating.
Ten seconds.
Thirty seconds.
One minute.
Two.
Four.
“Mr. Murphy. Mr. Murphy,” someone at his side interrupted his vigil again. He focused on the man and woman who were trying to get his attention. Swallowing his anger at the interruption, he said, “I am.”
The woman, dressed in a sharp business suit, stuck out her hand, which he took.
“I’m Jess Rathers, and this is,” she nodded to her companion, “Derek Banner. We wanted to introduce ourselves before the evening went on any longer. We work for O’Connor Hospitality.
If there is anything you see tonight that doesn’t please you, we ask that you let us know immediately. ”
Ciar’s confusion must have shown on his face because the woman, Jess, added, “Josephine and Gray O’Connor hired us to oversee that the evening goes smoothly.”
He felt a man come in close and whisper, “Breathe. The show must go on, so just fucking breathe.” Jonathan.
He managed to nod at the O’Connor representatives. “Appreciated. Enjoy the evening.” And then, once they moved on, he looked at his best friends. “She isn’t coming.”
“We heard. I would have been surprised if she’d been willing to see you. She’ll need a lot more from you than a chance meeting at your own fucking pub.”
He felt his head nod in understanding when, in reality, he no longer understood anything. He was about to flag a waiter down to order another drink when the girls and Dagr joined them.
The absence of smiles was the only clue he needed that the next conversation wouldn’t be pleasurable either.
He nodded to the new arrivals. Dagr shook his hand. “I’m impressed, Murphy. Gray Eyes looks to be a raging success. Congrats, man.”
Ciar finally flagged down a waiter and ordered a round of drinks for him and his friends. Though if the girls’ faces were anything to go by, adversaries were a better fit.
Once the drinks were delivered, Ciar faced the angry lineup of femme fatales. “Gray is out of town?” He didn’t mean to word that as a question.
No one responded.
He barely stopped himself from frantically looking around for his father. His dad was not happy with his decisions and wouldn’t have saved him from this torture even if he could.
He was reaping the rewards of his closed mouth. Gray had been, no, she was the end-all woman for him. When he told her that, he’d meant it.
He still meant it. He just didn’t know how to explain his actions, or explain that his past affected his present, or how he hoped it wouldn’t affect the future.
His phone buzzed with a text from Tina. She sent the third picture of the evening. This one was of Imogen snuggled in her crib with her favorite lop-eared bunny he’d gotten from the hospital’s gift shop the day she was born.
He liked the photo before putting the phone back in his pocket. His life had become a mockery of what he’d envisioned only short months ago.
He would never change the fact that Imogen was his daughter, but his treatment of Gray…he had nothing but regrets.
“Do you remember that night you three brought those horrible dates to our house party?” At his confirming nod, Bébhinn continued. “Do you remember how they hurt one of your friends?” She was speaking of Blair. Of course, he remembered.
“Do you remember how I forgot my dad was dead?”
He bowed his head in shame, as did Daniel and Jonathan standing at his shoulders. “I do. Yes.”
“I would rather that night on replay than watch the results of what you’ve done to Gray. We don’t even know what that is,” Bébhinn sneered, slapping the table between them, her anger palpable to anyone close, “because she refuses to speak about it.”
Mags stood on Bébhinn’s right side. For once, there was no amusement to be found skating over her features. “Fuck you and fuck your new pub. I only came tonight to make sure you know that none of us has any plans on speaking to you again. Anyone who shits on one of my friends is an enemy.”
And then Blair. Christ, when her lip quivered, he almost broke.
She held up shaking hands and signed, “I’m ashamed that I encouraged your relationship.
I asked Dad to revoke your access to our home.
The girls are telling the truth. She’s never spoken your name even though you hurt her.
You don’t have to be a couple, Ciar, but you at least owed her respect. ”