20. Lorcan
Lorcan
"I gave you my word."
The words come out steady. Level. I don't know how, because my insides are collapsing like a building being razed to the ground.
She's standing in my office with her arms crossed over her chest, and my heart in the palm of her hand. She's leaving.
Every possessive, territorial instinct I have is screaming to stop her.
To lock the door. To argue. To lay out the evidence like a prosecutor.
The ring on her finger. My name in her mouth.
Her kisses. The words she said last night.
I think I'm falling in love with you. I have witnesses, Your Honor. I have testimony.
I could turn on the charm. It’s my specialty. I’m good with words. Good with people. I could probably talk her back into my bed.
But I won’t. Because that's the thing I've figured out about my wife.
Every person in her life who ever had power over her used it.
Her da traded her. Her landlord leered at her.
The school stacked a metaphorical firing squad against her.
Nobody has ever once held power over Maeve Shaughnessy O'Rourke and not used it.
So I won't. Not even if it kills me. And it might.
"Okay," I say. "You and the kids can pack tonight." My voice sounds like it belongs to someone else. Someone who isn’t dying inside. “I’ll make the arrangements now.”
Her arms loosen. Just slightly. Like she was braced for pushback that didn’t come.
"Just like that," she says.
“A deal’s a deal.” I make myself hold her eyes. "I told you, Maeve. My name's been on a lot of ugly things, but never a broken promise.”
She stares at me for a long moment, neither of us saying a word. What’s left to say?
I rise, step around her, and open the office door to signal her to leave. Because I can’t stand to be in this room with her for one more minute. "Go home. Pack. Take whatever you need."
She hesitates in the doorway. Her mouth opens. Closes. Then she goes.
I watch my wife walk across my family's pub and out the front door.
The bell over the door jingles. A cheerful little sound. I've heard it ten thousand times in my life and never once wanted to rip it off the frame until right now.
"Boss?" Sully's watching me from the taps. "Everything all right?"
"Grand," I say. "Everything's grand."
I go back into the office, close the door, and sit down at my desk.
Four days. It took four days for Maeve and those kids to get so far under my skin that I can't tell anymore where they end and I begin.
Jamie shadowing me, learning how to be a man. Oisin asleep on my chest through a fever, his small hand curled into a fist. Hyper-observant Cara finally letting her guard down, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
I fell so hard and so fast I never even felt the drop.
I'd started imagining more. That's the part I'll never tell anyone. Lying awake last night with Maeve asleep on my chest, I let myself picture it—a couple more kids someday, ours, growing up loud and safe in a big, loving house. A full table. A full life.
I look at the gold band on my finger for a moment before I pick up the phone to make the calls. To get her an apartment. To pay the deposit. To set her free.
How hard can one small wife be?
Hard enough to break me.