Chapter 39
thirty-nine
CIAR
Ciar had been watching Gray from outside the restaurant’s glass walls like the worst type of stalker. She was so damn beautiful. The sun haloed her from her head to her shoulders.
She used to be his. He used to be able to touch and hold her whenever he wanted. She used to smile at him.
She used to love him.
“Fuck,” he muttered to himself. How had they ended up here? A rhetorical question, of course. He knew where to lay the blame.
After he’d seen Mags off the night before, he walked home, needing the time to cool his head. He needed to think rationally. He couldn’t barge in on her date and demand she stay single until he decided to speak to her, give her what she needed and deserved.
Each time he argued against interfering, he immediately had a stronger argument for why he should.
He’d stared at his bedroom ceiling for hours. Looking at the stark walls hadn’t helped. He hadn’t allowed any décor to be bought or any pictures to be hung. Depressing.
The entire two floors were finished with white walls and warm wood floors. He only purchased beds for his room, Imogen’s, and Tina’s. A rocking chair for the baby's room and a couch for the living room, a small kitchen table, and a few chairs. Other than that, nothing.
He still dreamed of Gray coming in and making it a home. She’d spearheaded the opening of Gray Eyes, which had quickly become one of Dublin’s hot spots. He knew that she would use that same level of detail here.
He ignored several texts from Daniel and Jonathan, a call from Dagr, and another from his dad. He still wasn’t speaking to him after how badly things had ended between them last week.
Ciar had been hurt and embarrassed. He’d also been pissed because he knew his dad was right. Mags was right. His friends were right.
Agreeing with them was easy. Taking action, not so much. He was letting everyone vital to him down, and now here he was being a creep, watching Gray through a window, and she was about to have a lunch date with her ex-boyfriend.
Cannon Michaels. “Prick,” he muttered under his breath.
Speaking of, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A man was walking to the host stand. He looked like he was around six feet or right under. Shorter than Ciar. He supposed women might think he was good-looking. Ciar didn’t.
He sported neatly trimmed light brown hair. Gray loved scratching her fingers over his extremely buzzed scalp.
The guy looked fit, Ciar would give him that, but his clothes screamed university professor. No visible tattoos. Clearly not adventurous.
Cannon was nothing special to Gray’s extraordinary.
There was no way she would consider going back out with that guy. What the hell was he doing back in Dublin anyway?
The interloper was almost to her table. She smiled and waved when she noticed him. She began to stand, but that asshole blocked his view of her. They were hugging. It looked like he was resting his hands on her hips.
Her hands clasped his shoulders, and that was that.
Ciar saw nothing but red. A haze of fury at seeing Gray in the arms of another man was too much. He tore his gaze from Gray and made his way to the host stand.
“Good afternoon, Sir. Do you have a reservation?”
“Gray MacGregor.”
“Right this way.”
He entered with the host, told her he saw his friends—calling that idiot a friend irritated him—and said she didn’t need to escort him further. He preferred privacy in case things went sideways.
Gray didn’t see him approach, too enraptured by Cannon holding her hand across the table and telling her what a big mistake he’d made, presumably talking about breaking up with her. No shit.
“No, asshole. Your biggest mistake is touching what is mine.”
Cannon and Gray both looked at Ciar looming over their table with similar looks of surprise, all wide eyes and parted lips. “Let go of her hand, or I’ll break it.”
He made no move to let her go, and Gray appeared too shocked to realize. “Gray.” He put enough demand in his tone to snap her out of her stasis.
She quickly pulled her hand from under Cannon’s and focused on Ciar. “How did you know I would be here?”
“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you shouldn’t be here. At least, not with him.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And why is that?”
“In Colorado, the first night we slept together, you promised you’d stick by me even if I fucked up. You promised.”
“You promised me a lot of things too,” she whispered, tears sparkling on her lashes, gutting him.
“Is this the prick that left you when he found out about the baby?”
If they hadn’t been in the middle of the fucking Fitzwilliam, he would have made sure Cannon regretted ever speaking of his daughter.
“Cannon. Please,” Gray started, “that isn’t what happened.”
“Oh really,” Cannon scoffed. “Then tell me why you’re sitting here with a round belly and this,” he looked Ciar up and down with a sneer, “thug left you alone to deal with his mistake alone.”
Ciar was too dumbfounded by what Cannon just said to deal properly with the insulting way he spoke. When Gray turned a murderous glare Cannon’s way, Ciar felt more turned around.
“Enough Cannon. I appreciate that you’re trying to help, but you aren’t. I also want to be very clear that a baby is never someone’s ‘mistake.’ Please leave. I’ll call you later.”
“No, she won’t. You heard Gray. Get out.”
Cannon stood stiffly, noticing for the first time all the waitstaff hovering near their table, causing his cheeks to flush in embarrassment. Pansy. Ciar didn’t care who heard him claiming Gray.
Ciar didn’t take the vacated seat but chose the one closest to Gray, smirking at Cannon while he made himself comfortable, putting his arm around the back of her chair.
“I don’t know what game you’re playing here,” Cannon spoke to Ciar, “but you seem awfully proud of yourself for someone who left a woman to go through pregnancy alone.”
He turned his gaze to Gray. “Don’t take him back, Gray. I will be there for you. I’ll move home, baby. I swear I will. He doesn’t want you. He’s just selfish enough not to want anyone else to have you. Please call me tonight so I won’t worry.”
She nodded in agreement, causing a growl to rumble up his throat. Cannon turned abruptly on his heel and left. Finally.
Now that the threat to his relationship with Gray was gone, his brain was starting to come back online. He was missing something.
He removed his arm from around her stiff shoulders and turned her chair slightly toward his so that it was easier to speak.
“What was all that about? What did he mean by me leaving a woman alone and pregnant? I,” he hesitated and had to clear his throat twice before he could get out, “didn’t know Imogen’s mom was pregnant. You know that.”
Gray shook her head and huffed in disbelief or disgust. “Back up. You’re too close.”
She was pissed, so he obeyed and moved back enough where their legs no longer touched. He felt the loss of her warmth down to his bones.
“I didn’t leave you when I found out about the baby. I know things have been difficult, but I didn’t leave you. I want you to be mine again. Badly.”
Gray’s jaw clenched, and she shook her head. He had never felt so confused in his life.
“Not everything is about you. Nor about your daughter or your daughter’s mother. I don’t know anything about your life now because you’ve made sure I don’t.”
Ciar winced. He was such a selfish piece. “I’m sorry, I just…what did he mean then?”
Gray placed her hands on the table, her face going from red to white. He was afraid she was going to faint. He caught one of the server’s eyes, and they rushed over.
“Could we have some ice water, and,” he touched Gray’s arm, “what would you like to eat, Gray?”
“I’m not—”
“No,” he stopped her, “you’re very pale. Salad with grilled fish?”
“Sure.”
“We’ll both have whatever salad is your favorite,” he told the server.
“Of course, and here’s Kit with your water. Let us know if you need anything else.” She sent a worried glance Gray’s way, but she left without comment. Who knows what the staff thought about the altercation between him and Cannon.
He placed a glass of water in Gray’s hand and was relieved when she took several sips. “Do you feel like talking, or do you want to wait until after we eat? I don’t want to push, I’m just confused as all hell right now and feeling like you’re keeping something from me.”
That statement brought color back to her cheeks. “That’s rich coming from you. You’ve lied to me since Colorado. Don’t you dare act as though you deserve any of my secrets. You don’t deserve a damn thing from me.”
If words could make a person bleed, he should be close to death. “I want to tell you everything. I’ve wanted to before now.”
“Forgive me if I don’t hold my breath.”
“It’s not a conversation for here.”
“When then?”
He felt the floor open up under his feet, and his guts rushed to his throat. “Gray,” he pleaded. For what? He hadn’t a clue.
“Exactly. I will tell you what Cannon and I were discussing, because I’ve been wanting to tell you for quite some time. After you broke up with me, it’s become difficult. I tried to tell you that night at your house.”
“Our house,” he corrected.
“You’re deluded, Ciar, if you think any woman would be treated the way you’ve treated me and agree to anything.”
The salad’s arrival paused their conversation. The server explained the dish. “This is our house smoked salmon over a bed of fennel salad, caper salsa, and fresh brown bread on the side.”
“Thank you. It looks amazing.” Gray smiled kindly.
“I’ll leave you to it then.”
Alone again, Gray didn’t resume their discussion, contentious as it was. Instead, she slathered butter on a piece of steaming bread.
“Mmm,” she closed her eyes and savored her first bite. “I needed that. I’m starving.”
He barely touched his food, his gaze seldom leaving the woman seated beside him.
After twenty minutes had passed, she had eaten just over half her meal but seemed content, setting down her fork and gently blotting her mouth with her napkin.
This was the second time in two days that a woman had tortured him with a meal.
He placed his cutlery down so the servers would know they could clear the table, which they did moments later.
“Well, I guess there’s no putting it off anymore.” She watched him with an intensity that made him uneasy. “I’m pregnant.”
Had he been standing, he might have fainted. He heard her, but the words were like a language he couldn’t understand.
“I don’t…what…but we haven’t… Please explain.”
“You didn’t just walk away from me, Ciar. You left your son too. While you set up house with your other family, I’ve been alone.”