Chapter 6
Shannon
“Miss Guerin,” Viola greeted coolly as I headed for my front door. After the divorce, I’d switched back to my maiden name, so she always referred to me as such. In fact, I was pretty sure she had no idea that I was ever married. It wasn’t something I went about advertising.
“Hello, Viola,” I gave her a curt nod and continued walking, but she cut me off. I noticed then that Gary was standing by their door, watching the exchange with his arms folded, eyes squinting.
“There were two cars this morning,” Viola stated.
Her skin was pulled tight across her cheekbones in a way that made her expression look permanently pinched, as if smiling might crack something.
Her eyes—thin, assessing slits—flicked over everything with the kind of suspicion reserved for fingerprints on glass or scuffs on marble floors.
Even the angle of her chin suggested she was smelling something faintly unpleasant, her nose tilted a fraction higher than necessary.
Her clothes were immaculate, too. Tailored to the inch, crease-free, the colour palette so coordinated it bordered on aggressive.
There was nothing accidental about Viola.
Every detail existed to send a message. And for a moment, the sight of her tugged at something old and unwelcome in my chest, a flash of my own mother.
That same cold emphasis on appearances. That same silent judgement that made you straighten your spine even when you didn’t mean to.
I’d adopted a strategy of avoidance over the years, going out of my way not to do anything to garner hers or Gary’s attentions. But enough was enough. I wasn’t going to entertain the madness any longer.
“Indeed, there were.”
She huffed. “Is this going to be a regular occurrence?”
“Cars parking on a public street? I imagine so.” I motioned to our other neighbours’ cars parked nearby before shooting her a look of challenge. For a moment, it seemed like my response didn’t compute. She wasn’t used to me standing my ground.
“The vehicles block the natural light to our living room when Gary and I are trying to enjoy our breakfast in the window nook. I’d like you to please request that your visitors park elsewhere in future.”
The way she pronounced visitors like there was something untoward going on had a blood vessel in my forehead popping.
It was on the tip of my tongue to fire back at her that both cars were parked on the road outside my house, not hers, and if I owned a car, it would be parked there all the time.
In fact, I was half tempted to buy some unsightly old banger and park it outside permanently just to spite her. But then a better idea occurred.
“I think you should make that request yourself. I’m sure my visitors will be all too happy to oblige.” I paused as I glanced at her spineless wet blanket of a husband before continuing, “In fact, let Gary do it. He shouldn’t send his wife out to talk to strange men when he’s perfectly capable.”
My comment had her expression morphing into rage as I turned and stepped into my house, shutting the door promptly in her face.
It entertained me immensely to imagine Gary confronting Jace about where he parked his car in the mornings.
While I’d always shied away from confrontation, my ex-husband did not.
Like his father, he was quick witted and a pro at verbal sparring.
Jace also detested bullies. At school, he and Elias often had to stand up for Roan, who was so shy and artistic that it made him a target for arseholes.
It took a few minutes for me to wind down from the confrontation with Viola as I fired up my computer to start on the few work-related tasks I had to complete.
I managed to file away the fury she drew out of me and concentrate for a little while, but then my thoughts kept wandering back to Jace and what was happening with the catfish.
My fingers itched to pick up my phone and call him for an update, but I managed to resist. It was his predicament, and he had more than enough people to support him.
But still, my worry persisted, and I found myself doing something I hadn’t done in years.
I looked up his social media.
There was an Astro account where they shared tour photos, new music, and such, but each individual member also had their own solo account, and that was how I ended up scrolling through all the recent posts and videos Jace had put up.
I kept the volume on my computer on mute because my heart still wasn’t ready to hear his music.
Even a couple of notes could bring about an intense sadness, and I wished to avoid that at all costs. My emotional armour wasn’t yet strong enough to withstand hearing him sing or the soulful way he played the guitar.
Still, even with the mute button on, seeing photos of him and the band, not to mention videos of him performing on stage, had goosebumps tingling across the back of my neck.
I’d blocked it all out for such a long time, and now it was like a tidal wave of feeling crashing over me.
Jace had such effortless star power, and sometimes I wondered if he even knew the effect he had on people.
I mean, the woman from last night had fallen in love with him merely from sending messages back and forth with an imposter.
She’d obviously gotten swept up in the romance and overlooked all the red flags because the idea of being special to someone as talented and charismatic as Jace Fields was a heady feeling.
I knew because I’d had the real thing, and I feared I’d never feel for anyone what Jace could make me feel.
That I’d never be loved like he’d once loved me.
I paused on a recent video in a recording studio.
Jace was singing alongside a gorgeous blonde woman who I vaguely recognised.
She must’ve been some singer he was collaborating with or perhaps a member of another band.
Even though it was on mute, the effect was all-consuming.
They sang together, and the blonde looked at Jace like he hung the moon and stars, her pretty face beaming up at him with a smile so full of affection it almost pained me to watch.
His eyes were closed while he sang, but then he opened them and smiled back at her.
I swear something sliced a tiny piece out of my heart.
They’d probably slept together. Jace had said he wasn’t seeing anyone, and I believed him, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been with her or that he didn’t want to. They certainly had plenty of chemistry.
None of your business, Shannon.
Swallowing the heavy lump in my throat, I shut down the page and went to make some tea.
I had a million tasks to complete, clients to email, and code to write, but instead I was wasting my time getting lost down the rabbit hole of Jace’s exciting life that I was no longer a part of.
But I had to accept it. He was going to find someone new eventually, and he deserved to.
Just because our marriage ended didn’t mean he should be alone forever. And I deserved happiness, too.
I just had to put myself out there. If only doing so wasn’t so incredibly petrifying.
Remembering Rufus had sent a message early this morning that I still hadn’t replied to, I grabbed my phone and considered responding.
Why did the thought of engaging with an online suitor have my palms going all sweaty, my gut churning with indecision?
Then again, it was a logical response. Like, was it even safe to date someone off the internet who I knew nothing about?
Look at the Jace’s catfish. Everything Rufus had told me about himself so far could be a complete fabrication.
But I couldn’t live my life that way. Never taking a risk today meant never gaining anything in the future, right?
With this in mind, I shot off a quick question, my heart racing all the while.
Me: Want to grab coffee this weekend?
Nerves thrummed through me because I hadn’t had to make the first move on a man in, well, ever.
When I didn’t receive a reply right away, I set my phone aside and got back to work.
It was almost time for Zara to arrive home when my phone vibrated.
Thinking it might be Rufus, I checked the screen but instead found a message from Jace.
Jace: Is it okay if I take Zara back to my parents’ house for a couple hours after school? Dad’s cooking dinner.
Me: Sure. What time should I collect her?
Jace: Around 7pm?
Me: All right. See you then.
I finished up with work, then threw together a few random bits for my own dinner. Whenever Zara wasn’t home, I typically ate whatever was in the fridge. In this case, some leftover chicken salad, two slices of garlic bread, and the end of a tub of hummus.
It was a pleasant evening when I donned my coat and headed over to my in-laws’ house to collect Zara. The neighbourhood I’d grown up in from the age of twelve onwards was well to do, with lots of large, expensive homes and landscaped front lawns.
Previous to moving next door to Jace’s family, I’d lived in several different countries.
My parents had worked as lawyers for various international wealthy families, even a few royals and political dynasties.
I’d been born in Hong Kong, and we’d stayed there until I was two before settling in Geneva for the next four years.
After that, we’d lived briefly in Copenhagen, followed by short stints in Capetown, Oslo, and London.
Then my parents had finally decided they would settle back in Dublin where they’d both grown up.