Chapter 17
O’Brian’s kitchen smelled like rosemary, garlic, and fresh-baked bread—three of Keefe’s favorite smells, and coincidentally, three of Gwen’s favorites too. He smiled to himself as he worked the knife through a pile of carrots with a rhythm that almost counted as music, his movements light and easy.
Being separated from Gwen had been hell. Ever since the truth about her had come out, the pub had felt hollow, his house lonelier, and his own company almost impossible to bear. But now she was back. Back where she belonged.
That was the easy part. Now came the hard part: telling Sophie.
They never kept secrets from each other—why start now? Sure, she might need a little time to accept it, but once she saw how thoughtful and lovely Gwen truly was, she’d forgive that one lie. Then she’d be happy for them—maybe even excited.
The back door swung open, letting in a damp summer breeze and Sophie. She paused in the doorway and narrowed her eyes, taking in the humming and the suspiciously cheerful expression.
“You’re… in a good mood today,” she said cautiously.
“Guess so,” he replied, sliding the carrots into a pot.
Sophie leaned against the counter, studying her brother. For too long, Keefe had moved like a shadow wearing his own skin. But today, today he was back to the land of the living. Hallelujah.
“I’ve been meaning to say,” she began, her voice soft, “I’m sorry about the way things ended.”
“I know,” he replied, looking up, ready to make his announcement.
“I know how much you loved her.” She sighed.
“But let’s just be grateful we’re rid of the evil bitch before she did any more damage.
Who knows what she would have done to Darcie—and the twins?
It’s bad enough she broke my brother’s heart.
If I ever see her again, I swear I’ll wring her neck until her eyes pop and she stops kicking.
” She even held her hands out like she was already choking the life out of the woman he loved. “And then I’d sleep like a baby.”
Keefe blinked.
Not the day, Keefe. Definitely not the day.
He cleared his throat, adjusting his joyful expression to something halfway between “better than I was, thanks” and “still brooding.”
Sophie placed her hand on his shoulder, giving it a little rub. “What’s the soup today? It smells delicious.”
He gulped. Sophie’s hands were a little too close to his throat for comfort. “Oh, it’s mulligan. You know, just something I whipped up.”
“Save me a bowl.” She pecked his cheek, then headed for the office, but paused in the doorway. “Keefe?”
“Yeah?”
“You’ll find the right one.”
“Thanks, sis. Now get out of my kitchen,” he said with a wink.
He’d tell her someday.
You know, after their fourth child was born. By then, it should be safe.