27. Fiona
Chapter Twenty-Seven
FIONA
It would have been so easy to stay, to wait for Cormac to finish putting Scout to bed and end the night wrapped up in his arms.
And that’s exactly why I left.
It’s been two days since then, and Cormac hasn’t made any attempt to pick up where we left off. Though, that might be because I’ve refused to give him any opportunity to.
Whenever Scout is around, I relax, knowing that there is no chance of getting carried away. But the second he disappears into his room, I make my excuses to leave too.
I’ve already proven time and time again that I can’t be trusted around Cormac, so the less time I spend alone with him, the better. But it’s not easy.
The more I see him with Scout, the harder it is for me to stay away.
Scout brings out a side of Cormac I wish everyone could see, the one who reads dinosaur books for hours and gets up extra early to make pancakes before heading to the office.
I think I’m slowly becoming addicted to the man beneath the mask.
It’s just a shame that I can’t let him see beneath mine.
Scout pushes the blueberries around his plate. “Do I have to eat these?”
It’s Monday morning, and today is the first time Cormac is leaving Scout and me alone for the entire day.
So far, he’s managed to get away with going into the office for either the morning or afternoon, but today, he has back-to-back meetings with the board, which means I’m officially on Scout duty.
I tuck into my bowl of yogurt. “Fruit is good for you.”
“So is chocolate,” he mutters, and for a moment, I’m taken aback by how much he reminds me of Cormac.
It seems they not only share the same hair and eye color but stubborn attitude too.
I fight a smile. “Says who?”
“Says me.”
“Nice try. Now, eat your breakfast.”
Scout juts out his bottom lip as he stares down at his porridge, and it reminds me so much of Amber when I used to fight with her to eat her broccoli that my spoon falls from my grip and goes clattering to the floor.
Normally, thoughts of my nieces bring me joy. But today, they only leave me with a gut-wrenching ache in my chest.
Back when Carly was alive, I would spend nearly every weekend looking after Amber and Skye while she caught up on her college work.
We never did anything fancy, normally just a walk down to the local playground, but it was enough to put a smile on all our faces.
It made me hate coming home to an empty apartment after spending hours listening to the sounds of their laughter.
God, I would do anything to be able to relive those memories again.
Skye has barely just turned four, and in a few years, it’s likely she won’t even remember me, let alone her mother. And that hits me like a punch to the gut.
Any minute, Amber is going to go into her surgery, and the fact that I’m not there… I can barely stand to even picture her hooked up to machines with her tiny chest open on an operating table. At this moment, I have never hated her father more for making me break my promise to my sister.
I said that I would always be there for the girls, no matter what, and I’ve failed.
“Fiona?”
“Huh?”
I blink to find Cormac standing in front of me. I’ve been too consumed in my thoughts that I haven’t even heard him come down the stairs.
Cormac is frowning. “You okay?”
I clear my throat. “Uh, yeah. I’m fine.”
From the look on Cormac’s face, I know he can see right through my lie, but I quickly climb down from my stool and start busying myself with cleaning my dishes.
If he asks me what’s wrong, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep the floodgates from opening, and the last thing he needs before a long day of meetings is to deal with me ugly crying.
“Daddy, do I have to eat my blueberries?” Scout asks.
“Did Fiona tell you to?”
“Yeah…”
“Then yes, you do. The quicker you finish your breakfast, the quicker you can have your tablet.”
“I love blueberries!” Scout suddenly exclaims.
Cormac appears beside me, but he doesn’t say anything. Somehow, knowing that he’s offering me the space to talk if I want to only makes my eyes well with tears even more.
“I have to head to the office, so be good for Fiona, okay, bud?”
“I’m always good.”
“It’s true. He is.” I glance over my shoulder and catch Cormac’s eye. “It’s a shame it’s not genetic.” It’s a lousy attempt to try and lighten the mood, and I know Cormac doesn’t buy it.
His expression remains stone-faced as he looks at me. It’s so intense that my cheeks instantly heat.
“Do you want me to pick up something for dinner?”
This cannot become our normal, the three of us sitting around the table, sharing a meal. It can’t, not when I have Lorcan’s voice in the back of my mind.
At some point, I’m going to crack.
I just have to hope that whatever Lorcan wants me to find out, I can do it soon, before the damage becomes irreversible.
“That’s okay, I’m planning on making chicken pot pie.”
Scout perks up. “Really? That’s my favorite!”
Cormac narrows his eyes. “I thought my spaghetti and meatballs were your favorite?”
“It is.”
“The point of favorites is that you only have one.”
Scout scowls. “That’s stupid.”
“We don’t use that word, Scout,” Cormac scolds.
“We should.”
Cormac turns to me. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
“We’re going to be fine,” Scout whines.
“I didn’t realize my son turned into a teenager overnight.” Cormac laughs, ruffling Scout’s hair. “Have a good day, bud.”
He hovers for a moment longer, and I can sense his unease.
I nod at him. “We’ll be fine.”
His dark eyes flick to mine, and he visibly exhales. He gives Scout one last kiss on the head before heading out.
I watch him go, desperately fighting the urge to run after him and give him a kiss goodbye.
Scout groans. “I think these blueberries are multiplying.”
I blink, not realizing that I had been staring at the closed elevator doors.
I turn to the little guy. “Hey, Scout, how do you feel about going down to the park?”
“Really?” Scout’s eyes light up.
“Sure. There’s a fresh layer of snow on the ground, so we could go and build a snowman.”
“Can we have a snowball fight?”
“We could… But I’m warning you, I always win.”
The promise of a snowball fight is enough to get Scout to finish his breakfast and brush his teeth in record time. By the time I’ve finished cleaning the kitchen, Scout comes running down the stairs dressed in what looks like every item of clothing he owns.
“I’m ready!”
I laugh. “I can see that. I’m just going to let your dad know where we are.”
I pull out my phone and send Cormac a quick text.
“Come on, Fiona, let’s go.”
“Hang on a second.” I wait for the message to be delivered, but the confirmation never comes. “Hmm… I think he’s turned his phone off.”
“Does that mean we can’t go?” Scout asks, visibly disappointed.
The poor kid has barely been out of the apartment in days and is in desperate need of letting out some energy.
While Cormac left strict instructions not to go anywhere without telling him, I’m sure if I take the right precautions, he will be fine with us going across the street to the park for an hour. After all, I’ve let him know where we are. It’s not my fault he turned his phone off.
I shut off my phone. “No, we can go. But you need to put your coat on.”
“But I’m warm now.”
“Trust me, you won’t be when we get outside.”
After wrestling with Scout to keep his coat and scarf on, we head out to the park.
There’s a fresh layer of snow on the ground that almost comes up to Scout’s knees, and he has an absolute blast wading through it.
“Fiona, look at this!” Scout lies back in the snow and starts fanning out his arms and legs.
“That’s an awesome snow angel.”
“You should do one too!”
I find myself genuinely laughing as I fall onto my back and start making a snow angel beside Scout.
Once our snow angels are finished, Scout grabs my hand and drags me from one pile of snow to the next, showing me how to make the perfect snowball.
The air is sharp and cold, but freeing.
For a moment, I forget all about the lies and the danger. Right now, it’s just me and Scout laughing in a world made of snow.
“Fiona, look!” He pelts a snowball past my shoulder. “I almost hit you!
“Almost? Please. You couldn’t hit me if you tried.”
He gasps, delighted by the challenge, and immediately starts packing another one.
I’m laughing again, really laughing, as he charges toward me.
I scoop him up before he can throw it, spinning him around while he shrieks with joy.
When I set him down, he bolts toward the small hill by the path, his small legs wading through the snow and his boots kicking up little sprays of powder.
“Daddy! Look at me!”
I turn with a smile, and it dies instantly.
Because Cormac is striding toward us from across the park with a murderous look in his eyes.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“What—”
“You have no right to take my son anywhere without my permission.”
“Cormac, I’m sorry, but?—”
“I leave you alone for less than thirty minutes, and the first thing you do is disobey me. You’re not his mother, Fiona. You don’t get to make decisions about my son.”
“I know that. I just wanted to take him to the park rather than keeping him inside all day like a fugitive.”
Cormac’s eyes flash with anger. And for the first time ever, I find myself genuinely scared of him.
“I specifically told you not to go anywhere without letting me know first.”
“I did. It’s not my fault you turned your phone off.”
“I have meetings all day.”
“Clearly, you don’t because you’re out here spying on me.”
“I forgot my laptop, and I’m glad I did because, otherwise, I wouldn’t have come home to an empty apartment and my son missing?—”
“He’s right there!” I point to where Scout is busy making snowballs. “I haven’t taken my eyes off of him once!”
Cormac turns toward his son. “Scout, we’re leaving.”
“I haven’t finished my snowman,” Scout whines.
“Now.”
“Cormac—”
But he’s already dragging Scout away, leaving me standing in the snow like an idiot.
So much for Cormac being in meetings all day. It seems my little park stunt has broken all trust he has in me as he stays home for the rest of the day, playing with Scout in his room.
It’s probably a good thing that I don’t see him until dinner because I don’t trust myself not to say something that could result in me being thrown out on my ass.
Even during the meal, I keep my mouth shut, only speaking if Scout asks me a question, which thankfully, isn’t often as he seems to be in a mood to monologue to Cormac about anything and everything.
“Do you think Uncle Brennan would buy me a rocket?”
I sneak a glance at Cormac to find him smiling enough for creases to appear at the corners of his eyes. I don’t know why that makes my chest tighten, but it does.
This man is nothing but a pain in my ass, but seeing him smile… It truly leaves me breathless.
“Rockets are very expensive, bud.”
“Yeah, but Uncle Brennan said he could buy me whatever I wanted.”
“Did he?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, maybe we need to have a conversation about the value of money.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means we shouldn’t listen to a word that comes out of uncle Brennan’s mouth.”
I choke on a piece of chicken as I fight the urge to laugh. I can feel Cormac’s eyes on me, so I keep my own trained on my plate for the rest of dinner.
“Daddy, can you tuck me in?”
I exhale in relief at the prospect of cleaning the kitchen in peace. As soon as Cormac and Scout head upstairs, I work overtime getting all the dishes cleaned and the counters wiped down so I can disappear into my own room before Cormac appears.
I decide to finally make use of the jacuzzi bath, soaking in the hot water and reading my book until it runs cold. It’s barely eight p.m., but I climb into bed anyway.
The sooner this day is over, the better.
Turning the light off, I bury myself under the covers and screw my eyes shut, hoping for sleep. But of course, that doesn’t happen. All my mind wants to focus on is Amber.
There’s been no word from Joe about Amber’s surgery, and I’m trying to convince myself that no news is good news. But that’s easier said than done.
I try to force myself to think of anything else, so of course, I start hyper-fixating on Cormac. It makes me wonder if I’m starting to develop real feelings for him.
It seems unavoidable, considering I've been sleeping with the guy and now we’re living together. We’ve gone from zero to a hundred in less than two weeks, and my brain is trying to make sense of the chaos.
But in true Cormac fashion, the moment I think that maybe this could work, that maybe whatever is going on between us could go somewhere, he flips a switch and pushes me away as if I mean nothing.
I shouldn’t complain. I should be grateful he has enough self-control for the both of us. But deep down, his rejection sits like a lead weight in my stomach.
If I don’t get a grip on myself soon, I’ll forget why I’m really here. I’ll forget who I’m reporting to.
And if that happens, Cormac won’t just push me away.
He’ll destroy me.