Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 164533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 823(@200wpm)___ 658(@250wpm)___ 548(@300wpm)
Jo filtered in, saying hello to her grandkids and rounding them up to help her set the table. I took a seat next to Nuala, letting the warm, congenial conversation drift over me. I was at peace, or at least I felt like I could be with time. Everything was going fine until Tristan sat on the free seat next to me.
“Nuala told me about your divorce. Sounds like that Jesse was a right prick,” he said, and I tensed. Exactly how much had Nuala told him? I glanced at her, and she gave me a very subtle shake of her head, indicating she hadn’t told her brother very much.
“He was a prick,” I agreed, my hand shaking a little as I picked up my glass and gulped back some wine. “He was the absolute worst.”
“Exactly, you’re well rid,” Tristan said, unaware of the tightening in my chest, my head swimming as I felt a panic attack hurtling forth. Abruptly, I rose from my seat.
“Sorry, I … I need the bathroom. Be back in a minute.”
Pulse racing, I hurried out into the hallway, aware of the concerned look both Tristan and Nuala shared at my departure. But I couldn’t worry about that right then. I just needed to get away. If Tristan tried to keep talking about the divorce, I feared my anxiety would become too much. I was just about managing to hold it together, but if people began interrogating me about why I’d left my husband, I wouldn’t be able to handle it. The panic attack I was trying to keep at bay would overtake me.
I’d become prone to them over the years, and my therapist had prescribed medication alongside my regular anti-depressant, which I took daily. I still planned to keep up my sessions with her until I found a suitable replacement in Ireland. We were scheduled to talk over video call twice a month.
Maybe I needed to increase that to weekly, especially if I could barely make it through the first few minutes of dinner without falling apart.
I walked out into the hallway and went to stand next to a side table, pressing my hand to it for balance. I inhaled deeply in, then out, focusing on my breathing when someone slotted a key in the front door.
Looking up, I expected it was Uncle Padraig home from work, but then a stranger stepped through the door. I was about to ask the man who he was and why he had a key to my aunt and uncle’s house when recognition hit.
Rhys.
Oh my …
Goodness.
What on earth was he doing here? And why hadn’t Nuala or Aunt Jo mentioned he was coming to dinner?
I stared at him, stunned, as my gaze traversed his tall, broad frame. Gone was the puppy fat. He was all hard lines and muscle, with a very small gut that hinted at the fact he still loved to eat. He wore dark jeans, a black shirt, a leather jacket, and boots. His brown hair, once a little shaggy and unruly, was cut in a neat, trim style.
I was still gaping at him, my pulse racing as he shoved his keys in his pocket and turned around. He startled for a second, obviously not expecting anyone to be standing in the hallway suppressing a panic attack. I was currently experiencing another, entirely different, sort of panic. One where I encountered the boy I’d lost my virginity to, a boy who was presently a very hot, very sexy leather jacket wearing man.
I flushed just looking at him.
“Bloody hell, you gave me a fright,” Rhys exclaimed, his voice deeper but still achingly familiar. Just hearing him speak was a strange comfort. It felt like coming home. He ran a hand through his short, cropped hair, then started to smile as he took me in. One thing was evident, he wasn’t as shocked to see me as I was to see him. He knew I was coming, whereas I had no clue he was still a part of my relatives’ lives. So much a part, in fact, that he had his own key to let himself into my aunt and uncle’s house.
That was a lot to absorb.
“Charli,” he said, shaking his head as he continued smiling, and my heart proceeded in its efforts to pound its way out of my chest. “It’s been a long damn time. How are you?”
I swallowed thickly, my inner voice yelling at me to find some words. “Y-yes,” I said at last. “It has. Hello, Rhys.” A pause before I continued, “I’m well, and you?”
“I’m good,” he answered, still taking me in. “It’s really great to see you.”
Was it?
Maybe he’d forgotten about how he’d just stopped contacting me all those years ago. From the warmth of his expression, he really did seem happy to see me.