Chapter 27 #3
There’s a pause and then a huff of exasperation.
“Kerry! You could’ve told me before this!
I’ve been cursing up a storm! That’s not a good first impression!
” Her tone suddenly changes to something sweet.
“Hello, Amy, was it? Hi, dear. A pleasure to meet you. Well, as much as a phone call permits a meeting. You must be something quite special to ensnare my nephew as you have. How are you, love?”
My brain stutters for a bit at the whiplash from her tone alone. “Um, hello. It’s nice to meet you, too. I’m not anything special, really—”
“She’s the most wonderful woman alive, don’t let her tell you otherwise,” Alasdair interrupts me with a grin. I’m not ashamed to say that my heart feels like it's grown wings and is about to take off in the sky at his comment.
Marjorie laughs. “That’s my boy. Glad to finally see some manners from you, Kerry. I would’ve had to slap you upside the head if you let that go.”
His grin widens. “Yes, as you should. Pretty sure my mam would haunt me from the grave, too.”
“That she would,” Marjorie agrees. “Well, Amy, you’re sweet, I can tell that already. And if you’re as pretty as your voice, then I can understand why my nephew enjoys your company so much. When do I get to meet her in person, Kerry?”
Alasdair sits down and crosses one leg over the other. “Soon. We get married next week, if everything goes as planned.”
My heart leaps into my throat even as Marjorie practically coos with delight.
“Good. And then we’ll have a celebration here?
I’m so sad I’m missing it!” It feels like a cold bucket of water just got thrown on my head.
I already knew it’d be next week from overhearing my grandfather, but it’s still a shock to hear it from Kerry himself.
I should be angrier. I know it logically.
But I feel relieved, too. A wedding means moving forward, to leaving America, to going to Ireland with Kerry and maybe actually having the shot at peace that I’ve always ached for.
Funny that the man that I thought would be a cruel jailer in the prison of our marriage is actually ending up to be my gateway to freedom, all while making me feel loved and seen.
And maybe even providing me with the family I’ve always longed for too, if this interaction with his aunt is any indication.
“Yes, we’ll have another celebration there, of course. I—” he pauses, frowning as he looks at his phone. “I’m sorry to interrupt the conversation, Marjorie, but I’m getting another call. Thank you for answering. I hope you win your game.”
She sighs. “Of course. And just when I was excited about talking more with Amy…but nevermind an old woman’s wishes, of course.
I’m sure I’ll get plenty of time with her soon.
Take your call. Talk soon.” She hangs up before I can even say goodbye, which makes me a little sad.
She seems like a really nice lady, if a bit quirky. But I like quirky.
Alasdair takes the other call and stands up, hand brushing against my stomach and arm as he adjusts me to the side so he can walk around me.
“Yes?” He’s placed the phone to his ear so I can’t hear it.
I sit down on the couch softly, looking out over the gorgeous view of the city as I carefully keep tabs on the conversation.
“What do you mean?” Alasdair asks, his brows furrowed and his jaw tense.
I watch him pace back and forth around the couch. I can tell that his anger is building the more he listens to whoever is on the other line.
“You son of a bitch,” he finally hisses, and I can’t help but sit up straighter.
“I’m going to kill you for this. This is a declaration of war, you do realize?
” There’s a beat of silence before Alasdair gives a scoffing laugh.
“There’s a difference between something I can do and something I am doing.
A strong relationship with O’Neil benefited us both. ”
There’s an angry voice shouting on the other line that sounds suspiciously like my grandfather.
Alasdair doesn’t listen to it. He hangs up the phone, clutching it in his hand so tightly that his knuckles are white. He’s silent as he stalks up to the window, looking out of it.
I don’t know what to do or how to react. My stomach twists in angry knots, sensing that something has just gone terribly wrong, and now anxiety is clutching at my throat, making it hard to breathe, speak, or even think.
Finally, Alasdair turns towards me, his face cold and impassive. “Well, little leannán. It seems you’re free of me after all.”
I furrow my brows, my mind racing to determine what he’s talking about. “What do you mean?”
He stares at me for a moment, only making my anxiety spike worse. “It means that your grandfather just called to tell me I can go to hell and take the deal we had with him.”
I blink several times, a cold chill sweeping through me.
Alasdair braces his hands on the couch, leaning down with something akin to a snarl on his handsome face.
“It means the wedding is off, leannán.”