Chapter 15
AISLYNN
It had been two weeks since I’d heard from Pagan, which was puzzling after all the drama he caused about me going out. Every time I tried to call him, I got his voicemail, which meant he was either ignoring my calls or vetting them. What he wasn’t doing was calling me back.
Thug had stayed the night in my spare room and then cleared out the next day, muttering, “The boss will be in touch,” followed by, “You better keep your ass indoors, or he’ll hulk out.”
I made him a coffee to go, and saw him out, and since then, there’d been nothing, no message, no call.
It was crickets.
Pagan was off the grid—well, my grid at least. I tried to get on with my life. I went to work and even went out for dinner with the girls one night after we left the office late, but he didn’t even shoot me a WhatsApp message.
As the days passed, I found myself circling between anger, worry, and apathy. I couldn’t sleep properly and eventually dosed myself up with a box of wine just so I could pass out without my mind shifting into overdrive.
I constantly checked my phone, and found myself zoning out, even at work, when I was supposed to be winding down my jobs and closing all my contracts.
Somehow, I got through team meetings and handovers without making too much of a fool of myself, even though my mind was—as my mam would say—away with the fairies.
If I were a normal girl, I would have called my mam or my friends and cried my heart out to them, or obsessed in a group chat about how men were bastards, and I was better off alone.
But I felt so stupid; I mean, this was Pagan Sinclair, so what did I expect?
He was never going to behave like a normal guy.
The tenth day of radio silence was my last day at work, and after saying my goodbyes to my colleagues and friends, I walked out of the building for the final time with tears in my eyes.
All my hours had been signed off, which meant I was an architect.
Once my professor graded my reports and signed everything off, it would be official.
It was one of the biggest moments of my life, but there was nobody to tell.
A few months ago, my da would’ve been here.
He would have driven down and taken me out to a celebratory dinner.
Then, after we’d eaten, he would’ve presented me with an outrageously expensive purse because he knew how much I loved them.
But my da was dead.
It was that exact moment I felt the gut punch.
Everyone had told me they’d had it. My brother Callum relayed how he felt it the minute Da died. Mam said that for her, it was the funeral. My other brother, Tadhg, told me he got it when my uncle sang Da’s favorite song, “Danny Boy,” at his wake.
It had hit me three months after his death, when I was at my lowest, and by God, the ache of it almost brought me to my knees. I was supposed to live a whole-assed life without my daddy, and I didn’t know how I was going to do it.
My legs were unsteady as I turned in the direction of my apartment, and that was when I heard the most beautiful sound in the world.
“Coooooooeeeeeeee!”
I closed my eyes and sent up a prayer of thanks, then I swiped at my face and spun around to see the most beautiful sight in the world.
Tristan, Maeve, and my mammy were walking down the street toward me.
My throat burned with emotion as I called, “What are you doing here?”
“We’re here to celebrate!” Maeve called back as they approached me.
My feet moved of their own accord. I broke into a run before throwing myself at my mam, who enveloped me in her love and warmth right there in the street. I felt her hand smooth my hair back, and I burst into tears.
“What is it, love?” she crooned soothingly. “Tell me who upset you and I’ll take a frying pan to them, I will.”
“D-Dad. It j-just hit me,” I whispered, my breath catching from the pain in my chest. “He’s not here.”
“Oh, love,” she whispered, pulling back to touch my cheek. “He’s here, and he’s proud of you.”
A tear tracked down my cheek, and I nodded.
A firm hand landed on my shoulder, and Tristan turned me toward him. “Do we need wine, my glossy, dark-haired beauty?”
I laughed through my tears and nodded again.
“I think we need a bottle,” Maeve interjected, taking my hand.
I took my three favorite people in and murmured, “I’m so glad you’re here. I was about to crash out in the street.”
“Let’s find a restaurant and get settled in for the night,” Tristan suggested, “I have a feeling we have a lot to talk about.”
I let out a loud snort before I deadpanned at him. “Tris. You have no idea.”
—————
“Ten days?” Maeve asked from her place opposite me at the table.
I drained the last mouthful from my glass of Chablis and replied, “Yep.”
Tristan finished topping his wineglass up and leaned over to give Ma a refill. “Cruisy told me there’s a lot going down at the clubhouse. They’re so busy that we haven’t been able to meet up lately either.”
I watched Tristan fill my glass, deep in thought.
Maybe his words should’ve made me feel better, but they didn’t.
I knew Pagan well enough to also know that if he wanted to see me, he’d find a way.
All he needed to do was pick up the phone.
He must’ve seen my missed calls; plus, he called most days, often more than once, depending on how busy he was.
It was obvious I’d been ghosted, and it was killing me.
I could keep pretending I hadn’t fallen in love with Pagan Sinclair and that every day of silence didn’t fill me with loss, when, in reality, my lungs ached more painfully with every minute of silence that went by. And yet, even that was easier to focus on than the constant raw sting in my heart.
“I’m not making excuses for him,” Tris insisted. “I really do get the impression a lot’s going on over there. Maybe just give it some more time.”
“Bullshit,” Mam interjected. “If he wanted to call her, he’d call.”
“Mother Maureen,” Tristan sighed. “Always tells it like it is.”
“Well, I’m not going to lie to her,” Mam declared. “If he wanted to call, he’d find a way. It’s not like he’s stuck in an office or a factory all day. The eejit can pick up a fecking phone.”
“Maureen’s right,” Maeve agreed, her gaze fixed on me. “You’re too good for this.”
I smiled warmly at her and asked, “How are you doing now?”
Maeve had been through a hard time with my eejit brother. Thankfully, he’d pulled his head out of his ass and done what he had to do to win her back, and now they were on the right track.
She blushed and ducked her head slightly. “Callum asked me last night if we could renew our vows. He wants a redo of the wedding.”
I beamed at her. “That’s a great idea.”
Maeve’s cheeks flushed. “I’d love you to be bridesmaid.”
“I’d be honored,” I murmured. “We’re gonna plan the shit out of this wedding.”
“Thank God,” she said, the relief in her voice evident. “The last one was such a mess. The sooner I can get the memory of it out of my head and replace it with new ones, the better.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I murmured. “I kind of loved it when Callum ordered everyone out of the church because they were upsetting you. I knew then his feelings for you ran deeper than he realized.”
Her face took on a dreamy look. “Yeah, that was kind of awesome. We’re having it over at the Meadows’ ranch.
They’ve got a huge barn that they’re going to start hiring out as a wedding venue.
Mac promised me that ours could be the first wedding they hold there.
His daughter Lexi is a wedding planner, so she’ll deal with the technicalities, but I’d love all your input with dresses, flowers, and stuff.
I’m not very good at all that.” Her gaze slid to Tristan.
“I know this is weird, but will you be my man of honor?”
His eyes widened with delight. “Oh my God! That’s a darling idea. I never thought of being a man of honor before.”
“Well, you are one of my best friends,” she pointed out. “And Emily, my other friend from New York, is going to fly over too, so there’ll be three of you altogether.”
Tris took Maeve’s hand in his and beamed. “I’d be honored to be your man of honor, Merida.” His eyebrow hitched. “You know this is going to be the best wedding Hambleton’s ever seen, right? With me, Mother Maureen, and Aislynn on the case, people will talk about it for years to come.”
I glanced over at Mam, who was being unusually quiet. She’d been trying to get my brothers married off for years, and she couldn’t have loved Maeve more if she were her own daughter, so I thought she’d have more to say on the subject.
But instead of her eyes being on Maeve, as I expected, they were fixed on me.
The thing about my mammy was that she was the most perceptive person I knew, even more so than Pagan (and that was saying something).
Growing up, my brothers and I had never gotten away with anything because my mam could take one look at us and know if we were guilty.
She never made excuses for us (except maybe Donovan, who I suspected was Mammy’s favorite son, and couldn’t do much wrong in her eyes, even when he really did fuck up).
I think it was because Donovan had my grandmother’s—her mother’s—eyes, which of course Mam loved.
And right then in that moment, she knew I was breaking inside.
She set her wine glass down, reached for my wrist, and squeezed it gently. “Are you going to call him again tonight?” she asked quietly so as not to interrupt the flow of wedding conversation around the table.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat and murmured, “No, Mam. I’m done calling.”
She nodded approvingly. “Good. Remember what I told you, Aislynn. It’s all a test. He’s tested your commitment, and you passed. Now he’s testing your boundaries. Make sure you draw a line and stick to it, or else.”
“Or else what?” I asked.
“He’ll think you’re like every other woman he knows who does his bidding, and he’ll lose respect for you. He’ll find an excuse to end it after that.”