Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
Chantal
“I’m sorry but Gina Tarantino is delusional as hell if she thinks anybody’s buying that fake reconciliation with her sister-in-law,” Monique says. She shakes her head from side to side as she takes a sip from her cocktail.
We’re gathered in the den at Callahan House, curled up on the comfy furniture as we watch the latest season of The Real Housewives of Staten Island and Oona plies us with alcohol and delicious homecooked food.
“Neek, that’s a reach,” says Simone. “Gina and Paulina have been beefing for three seasons. They’ve obviously had a come to Jesus moment and finally worked it out.”
“Worked it out? Girl, did you see the way Gina’s eye twitched when Paulina brought up the christening incident? That woman is holding onto grudges like they’re family heirlooms. Mark my words—by the reunion episode, those two are gonna be throwing champagne glasses at each other again.”
“The christening incident was two years ago!”
“Listen, you know Gina doesn’t forget. She’s still mad about the cheap catering comment from season one, and that was, like, four years ago.”
“That’s true. She is as petty as they come,” Simone admits with a light laugh.
I’m mostly silent as my best friend and cousin both make excellent points. I’m the biggest Housewives fan of the three of us, yet I haven’t added my two cents.
Instead I sip from my rosé Aperol spritz and sample another finger sandwich. It’s still a struggle reintegrating into my old life, but a part of me is grateful my girls have had my back. They’ve refused to give up on me even as I’ve pushed them away at times.
A light spring breeze blows in through the large windows, and I draw a breath and remind myself to be in the moment.
I can worry about the other ugly stuff with Dad later.
“What do you think, Chani?” Simone asks, pulling me back to the present. “Team Gina or Team Paulina?”
“Um...” I blink, struggling to remember what they were even arguing about. “I mean, Gina’s messy as hell. No doubt about that. But at least she’s entertaining. Paulina’s just boring and pretends to be above it all—and she wears fake Louboutins.”
Monique cracks up, clapping her hands together triumphantly. “I forgot about the fake red bottoms! She really thought nobody would notice with her fake bougie self? Please!”
I smile to myself and sip more of my rosé Aperol spritz. Both Simone and Monique get heated about reality TV drama like it’s an actual geopolitical conflict. Normally I’d be right along with them. But today I can barely find the energy to participate.
Monique notices I’m off mid-rant and tilts her head at me. “You okay, cuz? Usually you’re locked all the way in to Housewives of Staten Island.”
“Yeah, um, just tired. Still haven’t been sleeping well.”
“I have some Ambien if you want some to take home,” Simone offers.
“Sim, do not offer her that! Then next thing you know she’s hooked. You know they put all kinds of stuff in those pills to make them addictive.”
Simone rolls her eyes. “Yes, Neek. We know all how paranoid you are about medications.”
“Some say paranoid, I say discerning.” Monique raises her brows at us and then stands up with her empty plate in hand. “But you do you! I’m going to go see if Oona has any more of that bread pudding she made.”
“Grab me a slice too!” Simone calls after her. Then her gaze dips to my plate and she frowns. “You sure you don’t want anything else Oona’s made? She has some apple cake too.”
I shrug, setting my plate aside. “Guess my appetite’s like my sleep schedule lately. No biggie, my therapist says it’s part of recovering.”
“Right,” she says, hesitating for a second. Her expression softens, brows pushing together. “Listen, Chani… I know the truth. Ronan told me what really happened the night you were found. I know it was Lochlan, and that he’s still alive.”
I’m so damn caught off guard by the pivot in conversation I can’t bring myself to answer. I’m stuck staring at her as my eyes narrow, and I wait to see where she’s going with this.
“None of us knew he was alive. The prison logged him as dead and even claimed to have buried his body,” she goes on, shaking her head. “We definitely didn’t think he would ever… that he’d ever betray us like he has.”
“Be… betray you?” I croak out, blinking rapidly. My throat feels like it’s closing up, and suddenly my pulse is racing. I can feel myself growing defensive even as I try to fight it and play nonchalant.
“Betray all of us,” Simone clarifies. “He was the one who was working with the Albanians to go after my father’s company and destroy Ronan’s family. His son was a spy who then tried to kill me.”
“Yeah… um, I’m sorry…” I mumble, glancing down at my hands in my lap. “It’s a complicated situation.”
“Complicated? There’s nothing complicated about it. Lochlan is a piece of shit who’s betrayed his own family.”
“He would say he was betrayed first. Your father-in-law did leave him to take the fall.”
Simone’s brows knit in more confusion. “Is that what he told you? Chani, you don’t have to defend him. You don’t have to be afraid. He’s never going to hurt you again. Ronan’s going to handle it. He’s going to make Lochlan suffer for what he did to you—”
“What did he do?!” I blurt out. My pulse has exploded, pounding fast in my veins and then echoing in my ears. “Tell me, Sim... what the hell do you think Lochlan did to me?”
Simone goes still, taken aback. “Chani—”
“I’m alive and in one piece, right?” I pop to my feet, desperate for an exit. “Stop looking at me like you pity me! I don’t need you to—and I damn sure don’t need your husband fighting on my behalf!”
Before Simone can even attempt to bring the temperature down, I’m cutting straight for the door. I rush into the hall and stride down the passageway in search of somewhere to collect myself.
The guest bathroom a few doors down is a welcomed reprieve. But the guilt hits me as soon as I snap shut the door and turn toward the mirror above the sink.
Simone’s my bestie who loves me like a sister. She’s only ever had my well-being in mind. She doesn’t deserve to be snapped at like that.
But how am I supposed to sit there and listen to her talk about making Lochlan suffer when I spent weeks in that man’s bed? When I enjoyed being with him, falling for him despite every logical reason not to?
She and the others have no damn clue the real reason I haven’t been sleeping. I’ve been lying awake at night wondering if he’s okay and wishing I could see him even one more time.
It’s so fucked up. I’m aware how twisted it is that he’s the man who held me captive, yet I’ve developed feelings for him.
…but it’s also not as if my life’s been short on fucked up lately.
I still haven’t talked to Dad about those unpaid medical bills I found. Every time I work up the nerve, he’s on the move, mentioning his next big lobbyist dinner or public event he must attend.
A part of me wonders if I even want to confront him about it; if maybe things are easier pretending I don’t know.
Just like I’ve so often hid behind the glamour and luxury in the past.
Knowing my role and playing the part.
But what happens when playing the part—sticking to my role—becomes too exhausting?
I take several deep breaths to calm myself down.
First things first, Simone deserves an apology. Then I need to make up an excuse about being stressed and go home. It’s still too soon to be socializing like this.
I step out into the hall to find my way back to the den. It’s only a couple footsteps in that I happen to pass by Ronan’s office. The door is cracked open, two distinct male voices spilling out into the hallway.
The first I recognize as Ronan’s. The other is similar, but older and gruffer.
His and Lochlan’s father, Seamus Callahan.
“The longer this shite drags on, the worse it looks for the family,” Seamus is saying. “The more fucking damage he does.”
“I’m aware,” Ronan replies. “But he’s been a step ahead since we found him out. Moving locations every few days. Staying off the radar. Finding him isn’t as simple as you’re making it sound.”
“Then stop trying to find him and start flushing him out. He’s got weaknesses. Exploit them.”
“What weaknesses would those be, Dad? You forget we’ve got weaknesses too, and Loch’s fucking pissed and ready to do what it takes? He thinks we betrayed him.”
“Well he’s wrong!” Seamus rumbles. He slams his fist on what sounds like a desk. “Enough kid gloves. We need to eliminate the problem.”
I gasp, my hand clapping over my mouth to muffle the sound. I stumble backward from the door, then break out into a jog that takes me all the way to the foyer. I’m at the door when Simone and Monique appear from the other end, their faces creased with concern.
“Chani? What’s wrong?” Monique asks. “Where are you going?”
“I’ve got to leave. I’m sorry, I just… um, I have to go.”
“But we haven’t even finished lunch—”
“Call you later!” I grab my handbag from the entryway table and yank open the front door.
I escape into the bright spring sunshine and rush toward my Audi. I’m so damn frazzled I don’t know which way’s left and which way’s right, and I struggle to find the town car with my private driver.
They’re going to eliminate him. They’re going to take him out.
Ronan and Seamus are going to hunt Lochlan down and kill him, and I have no clue how to stop any of it.
I’m so disturbed by what I overheard about Lochlan that my only solution is to momentarily distract myself. I turn my attention back onto uncovering the truth Dad might be hiding.
Since coming across the medical bills, I’ve reached out to a mutual of mine and Simone’s. Her ex-boyfriend Heath happens to be a brilliant investment banker—and extremely nerdy and tech savvy.
He was surprised the first afternoon I hit him up and asked him to coffee. He showed up at the art gallery acting as if the occasion was more than an outing between platonic friends.
Unfortunately for him, he has three huge things working against him.