Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
“That isn’t helpful,” I groan.
“I know,” she says. “I suck at this stuff. Is it wrong that I feel happy? Like giddy. We’re both preggers at the same time. And we’re both with guys that we probably never in a million years thought we’d end up with, but at least we’ll be going through it together.”
I smile at her and shake my head.
“Ronan and I aren’t really together, together.”
“Well, regardless,” she beams. “You’re having his baby.”
Her happiness is contagious. I’ve been so busy freaking out over it that I never really stopped to think about that simple point. My hand moves over my belly and I blink back the tears knowing that Ronan and I created this.
It isn’t wrong. No matter how fucked up this situation is, or how badly I wanted out of this life, this baby could never be wrong. I love it already. In fact, the enormity of my sudden love for something I only just found out existed hits me hard and fast.
“God, Mack, I’m having his baby.”
“You are,” she agrees.
“I love him,” I blurt. “I know it sounds crazy. But I really do. I’ve been in love with him for so long. We are so fucked up together, but I love him.”
“Welcome to the loony bin.” Mack smiles. “Come in, sit down. Stay for a spell.”
I half-laugh, half-cry. Mack always has a way of making me feel a little better.
“But seriously though,” she says, “you should tell him.”
“I can’t,” I croak. “I don’t think… I mean I don’t know if he feels the same. He barely speaks. I have to drag every little word out of him.”
“Sash, let me tell you something. I went into Slainte thinking every single person there was sheisty as fuck. And I watched them all, Ronan included. But do you know what?”
“What?”
“He was so busy watching you that he never noticed anything else in that club. When you were there that was the only thing that existed to him. I know you said you wanted out of this life, and I get it, I really do. But are you running away from the life, or from him? Because you sort of seem to lump him in with all the other mob guys when we both know that’s not really the case.”
I blink up at her and feel pressure behind my eyes. Even though Mack is sarcastic and deflective most of the time, she really is very perceptive.
“I think he would take good care of you, Sash,” she says softly. “I think no man would ever dare look your way again if you were his. And he would never, ever hurt you. Because if he did, I would frigging murder him.”
“I don’t know.” My thoughts are too jumbled up right now to make sense of.
“You’re both avoiding each other, Sash. Avoiding the elephant in the room. How long has this been going on for?”
“Years,” I answer honestly.
“Right,” she says. “And it’s kind of ridiculous, huh?”
“Well, when you put it like that.”
Mack smiles and reaches over to hug me. She’s getting better at the hugging thing. “Talk to him, Sash,” she whispers. “That’s all you can do.”
Chapter Thirty
Sasha
When Ronan gets back, I’ve got a whole feast prepared for dinner. Conor delivered the groceries I asked for, and I didn’t have much else to do besides wash and play with Daisy.
It turns out, Ronan doesn’t even have television or internet in his house. Just books. And after being here only one day, I can’t imagine how he handles the silence all the time. It has to get lonely. I wonder if that’s why he got Daisy. It doesn’t really make sense, him having a Corgi. So when we sit down to dinner, I decide to ask him about it.
She’s pawing at his leg, and he’s petting her head awkwardly. Most people probably wouldn’t notice it, how unsure he is with such simple things like that. Ronan always comes off cold and well put together, but if you look closely, you can see it in the little things he does.
“I take it you never had a dog before?” I ask him.
He looks up at me and shakes his head. “No.”
“So how did you end up with Daisy?”
“She was at Donovan’s house.”
And with that simple statement, the subject is dead in the water. I’m not new to this life. These guys aren’t in the habit of talking about men they killed. Once they’re dead and buried, that’s it. It’s like they never existed before. And judging by the way Ronan’s looking at me he prefers it that way too. But I do wonder if it’s because he killed him or because of what Donny did to me.
The room is quiet, and I’m trying to think of something else to talk about. Ronan’s staring at the pot roast and does that thing where he sniffs it before he eats it.