Chapter 16
The sun streamed in through half-drawn curtains, soft and golden, casting lazy patterns across the floor. The rain had finally stopped, and outside the world looked washed clean—quiet and fresh and full of promise.
Gwen stirred slowly, eyes fluttering open to the sound of something faintly sizzling.
For a brief, disoriented moment, she wasn’t sure where she was. Then she heard birdsong outside the window.
Memories came rushing back—rain, the way he’d looked at her, the way he’d said I love you, the way they’d come together like the world might end if they didn’t. Her body ached in all the best ways.
She stretched, slowly, her muscles deliciously sore, and smiled as she caught the scent of coffee.
Slipping out of bed, she grabbed one of Keefe’s shirts from the drawer —one of those soft, worn ones that hung loose on her frame—and padded barefoot into the kitchen.
He stood at the stove, bare-chested, boxers riding low on his hips and his dark hair rumpled. A mug of coffee steamed beside him and he was flipping something in a pan.
Gwen stepped behind him, wrapped her arms around his middle, and rested her cheek against his back. “Good morning.” She took his mug, let the heat seep into her fingers. “This smells amazing.” She took a sip and groaned. “I missed your coffee.”
He smiled over his shoulder. “Is that all?”
She exhaled and sighed. “I missed everything about you. About us.”
“Me too.”
“Keefe, is this really happening?” she murmured. “Because it feels... surreal.”
He turned in her arms, pulling her close. “It’s real. You’re here. I’m here. And I’m not letting you go.”
“You said that last night.”
“I meant it.”
She looked up at him, eyes soft. “So, what happens now?”
Keefe gently smiled as he lifted her hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist.
“Now,” he said, “we eat eggs. Then we figure out the rest.”
Gwen fetched plates and silverware, setting the table with a quiet sense of purpose. It was her favorite spot in the house—that little table beside the picture window. She loved the way the light spilled through the glass and how she could see the garden while sipping her coffee.
Being here with Keefe felt so right. This was exactly where she was meant to be.
Still, a weight pressed on her chest—soft but insistent. Things were better between them, yes, but not everything was fixed.
Since they were both starving, she waited until he’d set the table with the breakfast he’d made—eggs perfectly fried, sausages still sizzling, thick potatoes crisped just right, and toast slathered in butter. The scent filled the kitchen, warm and comforting.
They ate in quiet contentment, stealing glances between bites, their knees brushing beneath the table.
It wasn’t just the food—it was the way he’d thought to make it for her, the small act of care that made her heart ache.
Only after they’d cleared their plates and he poured another cup of coffee did she lean back, full and warm, her gaze lingering on him with something softer than hunger.
“Keefe, why did you let me in last night?” she asked.
He exhaled, shaking his head. “Because you tried to tell me. Didn’t you? You kept saying we needed to talk, and something always got in the way.”
“Yes, I did,” she said softly.
“And to be honest… I avoided hearing whatever it was you wanted to say. I was afraid.”
She blinked at him. “Afraid of what?”
“I thought maybe I was wrong,” he admitted. “That maybe we didn’t have this connection. That you were about to end it. I didn’t want to hear that. So, I let the interruptions happen. I wanted to convince you that what we had was real.” He reached for her hand and held it in his.
“Do you believe that now?”
“I believe you feel this as much as I do. And I know the only lie you really told me was your name.”
“Keefe…” she sniffled and dabbed her eyes with the corner of her napkin. Although the apologies had all been spoken, she still needed to say it again. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean?—”
“I know,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I know, love. We’re together now. It’s all going to be fine.”
“But what about your family? Sophie? What’s she going to say?” The thought of what Sophie would do when she found out that they were back together was terrifying.
He smiled gently, and pulled her chair up close to his then pressed his forehead to hers.
“You let me handle them. Everything will be fine. Don’t worry.” He kissed her then tucked her under his arm for a cuddle.
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure about you. They’ll come around.”
“Maybe the others might. But Sophie...” Gwen hesitated. “She’s the one who set us up. She’ll feel like her family’s been blindsided. Like she invited the enemy into her brother’s life.”
Keefe smiled softly. This—this was one of the many reasons he loved her. Gwen thought about others even when it would be easier not to. She didn’t demand Sophie’s approval, she wanted to earn it.
“You knew Sophie set us up?”
Gwen gave him a look. “It was kind of obvious. You two are practically connected at the hip.”
“What?” He blinked. “What are you talking about?”
She cocked her head. “You seriously don’t know?”
He stared at her, innocent confusion all over his face. Nope. He really didn’t.
“Keefe, you told me you spent every summer here with your family.”
“Yeah, so?”
“You’re out in the middle of feckin’ nowhere,” she said, gesturing around them. “Who did you hang out with every day, all summer long: Sophie. Sure, your cousins were around, but it was always her, wasn’t it?”
He said nothing, so she continued.
“You went to the same schools. Even the same college—don’t give me the but I dropped out excuse. You enrolled. You worked together in your parents’ bar. Do you see what I’m saying?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, still not getting it. Sure, they were close but…
“She’s your sister, your best friend. Nobody is closer to you than she is. And if she doesn’t forgive me, we’re doomed. This won’t ever work.”
“She will,” he said gently. “It’ll take some finesse, but she will.”
Gwen arched an eyebrow. She wasn’t convinced.
“She will,” Keefe said again, more firmly this time. “Leave her to me.”
After a moment, he exhaled and said, “There is one thing I don’t understand: what made you come to my pub?”
“I couldn’t go another day sitting around, scratching me arse, waiting for you to come find me.”
Keefe chuckled and squeezed her inside his arms.
Gwen got up and fetched her purse. She returned to the table, pulled out a letter, and handed it to him. Keefe unfolded the page and began to read.
“It was because of this,” she said quietly. “I don’t know how much you know about Cian, but he was dangerous. He tried to keep me separate from his ‘business,’ but I knew. When I read that letter... I was so happy. I have a sister out there somewhere. I always wanted a sister.”
Her voice cracked slightly, but she pressed on.
“So, I hired a detective to find her. To gather information. I didn’t know what kind of person Darcie was, if she was like Cian. I needed to protect myself. And then, I saw a picture of you and… I couldn’t stay away.”
Keefe looked up. “And what did you think she’d do when she found out you’d lied about who you were?”
Gwen winced. “I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”
He let out a short laugh and shook his head. Clearly, faking her identity wasn’t something she did often. “Darcie is as much like Cian as you are. And my family will protect her.”
“I swear to you, Keefe, she doesn’t need protection from me.”
“I know that, love.”
“Turns out, he wasn’t very good. I didn’t know Sophie married Liam.”
He reached for her hand, pressed a kiss to her palm, then laid it against his cheek. A thought flickered in his eyes.
“This guy, whoever you hired that clearly sucks at his job, did he tell you that you have an uncle?”
“What?” She sat up straight and looked at him.
He nodded. “Your father had a sister.”
“I know. She died before I was born.”
“No, love, she didn’t. She was alive.” Before Gwen could get angry he continued. “The point is, Darcie isn’t your only family. You have an uncle: Shamus O’Day. He was married to your father’s sister and yes, she is dead now but he married my aunt Nan.”
Gwen’s eyes widened. “What?” She cried and sobbed and then she got angry.
Angry at her father, angry at her investigator.
“What? What did I ever do to deserve this? All these secrets and lies! Jesus Christ! That investigator really was shite.” Her voice rose.
“Why did Cian keep all of this a secret? I’ve been alone my whole life!
Summer after summer, Christmas after Christmas, birthday after fucking birthday—I sat alone in that fucking boarding school!
” Tears spilled from her eyes, her voice was fierce.
“I had a sister! A family! And that shit of a dickhead bollocks father left me alone! Why? What did I do to deserve that? I would have loved having a sister.”
Keefe didn’t say a word. He simply wrapped her as tightly as he could in his arms until her rage simmered.
“Shh, my love,” he murmured. “You have a sister now. And if I know Shamus, he’ll be honored to know you.”
“Really?” Her voice was small as her tears slowed down. “He won’t hate me for lying?”
“Well, I can’t promise anything but I’ll speak with him.”