Epilogue
Three weeks later…
brIDGET
Declan's moving in today. To my flat.
He says his is a shithole, and he doesn't like it anyway, and that we have good memories here. We'll need a bigger place before the baby comes, but as Dr. Rosenberg mentioned, I've got plenty of time for that.
They’re working out what happened with the imposter, and rumor has it they’ve found the real Valentina.
According to Declan, Seamus wants to see me. Today’s a big day all around, really.
I want to pinch myself. I'm so excited. It feels like all the time I've spent with him has been stolen and hushed, and it’s always been charged with something shameful. But not this time. No, not this time. Declan's mine.
“Jesus,” his brother Colm says, hauling a huge, heavy box. “How many pairs of trainers do you have?”
Declan trucks in carrying another. He has precisely one pair of sandals I made him buy for when we go to the beach, two pairs of boots—one black, one brown—one shiny pair of dress shoes, and more trainers than I can count.
“Don't know what you're whining about,” Declan says.
I've been down to pick up a bag of snacks. “Did he bring the peanut butter chocolate?”
“Of course,” Declan says.
“I think I'm going to order food from the chipper,” Seamus says, appearing from nowhere in the way that he does. “Bridget. Why don't you come?”
Declan narrows his eyes at him.
“We'll talk later, Dec. Let's go,” he says to me.
So I do.
I feel a little bit like I'm being called into the headmaster’s office, which is slightly unnerving, if I'm being honest. But he opens the car door like a gentleman, and I slide into the leather seat. The McCarthys drive nice cars.
Seamus is a little gray around the temples in a way he wasn't when he first married Zoya—at least, that's what I'm told, and I've seen the pictures. He looks older now. No word of a lie, I'm still a little afraid of him.
Okay, I’m very afraid of him.
I wonder if he took me on this car ride because he doesn't have to make eye contact while he drives.
“I'm sorry,” Seamus says.
I have to admit, I’m shocked. I never heard of him apologizing before.
“Seamus.”
“Listen,” he begins. “There was a time when I made Declan make a promise. A fair promise. A good one to keep you safe. I owed your parents nothing for what they did. Declan gave everything for you, his assets, his freedom. Himself.”
I stare at him. “He did?” I whisper.
“Aye. I was too determined to see the promise kept and not enough to see it was costing him everything. He promised me he would marry into the family of my choosing and signed over his assets. And in exchange, I kept you safe. I made you part of this family. I made sure you had a job and guards, a stipend, and a place here.”
I swallow hard. Declan did that for me?
I stare at Seamus.
I know I should say something. I always have something to say, but this time… this time, I’ve got nothing.
He gave up everything. Seamus’s words.
It isn’t just a figure of speech or a romantic gesture, but the truth.
I think about the hospital visits. The texts at two in the morning, the ones that started and stopped, never quite saying what needed to be said.
I think about the times I felt rejected, believing I didn’t matter to him, when in reality, it was the opposite.
I think about every time he came back, every ice cream run, every time he showed up just to make sure I’d eaten, that I wasn’t in pain, and that I was taking care of myself.
He did this all because… because I’m his.
I’ve spent a long time feeling like I was on the edges. Welcome, but not belonging. Loved, but not claimed. I told myself I’d made peace with it. I told myself a lot of things.
And I was wrong about all of it.
My hand finds my belly without me deciding to, automatically, like my body has already started thinking for two. There’s a whole person, our baby, who exists now, a testament to our two lives woven together irrevocably.
Outside the window, Ballyhock goes about its business as usual, while my entire world has been dismantled.
Declan wasn’t pushing me away.
He was paying the price for keeping me.
Seamus keeps talking. I clear my throat and try very hard to pay attention.
“But I’m sorry, Bridget. Maybe,” he says quietly, “I was too determined to see which way it would fall.”
I nod. His father’s health was failing. His brother was serving time. Declan was making a sacrifice. And in some way, I think Seamus saw it and let it happen because he valued the family more than what it cost any individual.
But I’m still reeling. Declan… gave everything for me?
“Thank you,” I say. “I appreciate your honesty.”
“Bridget, you belong here. Not because Declan paid his way for you, but because you’re meant to be here. With Declan and as our sister.”
You belong here.
I’ve been waiting to hear those words, and more importantly, to feel them.
I think about every room I’ve stood at the edge of. Every introduction I’ve been given as someone’s sister, someone’s friend. I think about all the places I’ve been welcome without quite belonging.
And I think about Declan and how it feels when he says You’re mine.
I’m swiping at my eyes when Seamus parks the car and smiles at me. “Congratulations, love. We’ll make you a member of this family officially.”
I can hardly believe my ears. I’m still shell-shocked when we exit the car.
“Let’s get some food,” Seamus says with a smile. “My mother always says there’s nothing amiss that a good meal can’t fix.”
It feels a little like being walked in by an older brother when he takes me into the chipper. We collect an enormous box of food he ordered ahead, and he catches me staring at the chocolate biscuit counter.
“Go on, then,” he says. “Get a couple of those too.”
So I do.
When Seamus pulls back up to the flat, Declan is on the front step, waiting, his arms folded, his eyes finding me the second the car door opens. He does that. He always does that. I used to think it was just how he was—watchful and careful, accounting for everyone in a room.
Now I know it was never everyone. It was always me.
Seamus gives me a nod when I get out. Then he steps out of the car and heads inside with the box of food, and it's just me and Declan.
Declan looks at me curiously, as if to make sure I survived his older cousin’s interrogation or whatever else we discussed. “You alright? Do I need to risk my life and confront Seamus, or…”
I smile at him. “I’m grand, Declan. Aye.”
He closes the door, and the noise of people moving things inside fades.
I turn around and look at him properly.
“Declan, I—” I bite my lip, think about what to say, then blurt it out all at once. “He told me. Seamus. He told me everything. What you did. What you promised.”
Declan goes very still. He doesn't speak. His jaw moves, just slightly.
I step toward him. “You kept me alive. You kept me here. And you never said a word, not once, not even when I—” My throat closes. I force it back open. “Not even when I told you to let me go. You just kept showing up.”
He exhales through his nose.
“I told you,” he says quietly.
“You didn’t, Declan. You never—”
“Didn't I though? I told you I love you.”
My heart.
He closes the distance between us in two steps, and his hands come up to frame my face.
He tilts my chin up the way he always does, unhurried, like we have all the time in the world.
His eyes are very bright. “I would do it again,” he says.
“Every single part of it. Do you understand me? I would do it a hundred times.”
I press my lips together hard because I will not cry again, not today.
“I know,” I whisper.
“Good.” He presses his forehead to mine. We stand there for a moment, just breathing, his thumbs moving slow across my cheekbones.
Then he pulls back and reaches into his pocket.
I stare, my heart thumping madly.
“I've been carrying this around,” he says, his voice soft, “because I kept waiting for the right moment, and then things kept exploding.” The corner of his mouth pulls. “Literally, the last time.”
Then he opens his hand. It's a ring. Simple, clean, exactly right, crafted in gold and sparkling diamonds. I stop breathing.
“I’m not waiting any longer, and I’m not standing on ceremony.” His eyes hold mine with utter sincerity. His face blurs in front of me as I blink away tears. “Bridget Kavanagh. Will you marry me?”
I sniff. “You know I will,” I manage. “I thought you'd never—”
He slides the ring onto my finger before I've finished the sentence.
Then he grabs my hand, walks to the door, pulls it open, and holds my hand up like I'm a trophy he's just been awarded.
“She said yes!”
Down the hall, Colm drops something but lets out a curse of approval. Seamus makes a sound that might be a laugh. Cavin's voice carries from somewhere: “About damn time.”
I'm laughing. I'm crying. I'm standing in my own doorway with Declan, who’s grinning, and the whole hall is erupting around us.
He turns back to me. Pulls me in. Kisses me once, certain and unhurried.
“I love you,” I say against his mouth. My god, but it feels good to say those words out loud.
“And I love you, mo chuisle,” he says softly.
“What does that mean? You said it once before.”
“My pulse. My heartbeat.”
His life.
I close my eyes as a rush of emotion makes my throat tight, then I regroup and smile at him. “How about tomorrow? I mean, you said you didn’t want to stand on ceremony…”
He kisses me again, still grinning. “If you really want to wait that long.”
“Tonight, then? I’m sure Bronwyn has flowers, and Cavin and Erin already set the tone for rushed weddings…”
“Bronwyn does always have flowers.”
“See?”
“Soon,” he says into my hair, holding me close and smiling.
I smile back. “Promise?”
“Aye, love.” He kisses the top of my head. “I promise.”
Somehow, those words hit me so hard I can’t speak for a long moment. I swallow the lump in my throat. Because when Declan McCarthy says I promise, I’ll be there, and I love you… he means it.
And always has.
THE END