My feelings exploded. An atomic bomb of emotions, laying waste to every feeble wall I’d tried to erect, to keep us both safe, to maintain an arm’s length between us for his benefit as well as mine. I’d felt like crying, bursting into tears and covering his lips and hands and body in kisses.
Instead, red in the face, I gave him a quick smile and excused myself.
But I’d thought of little else since. And today was the last day of mourning.
The sound of the front door opening then closing pulled me from my thoughts. I straightened from where I’d been cleaning the sink, grabbing a towel and walking slowly toward the foyer. I hadn’t heard Dan come downstairs and, as far as I knew, he was still in the study. We hadn’t spoken since I left him yesterday. I was anxious to see him, spend time with him, be intimate without worrying about reaching the finish line, but I’d also needed time to plan my attack.
Rounding the corner to the entryway, I spotted a man.
The sight of him astonished me for many reasons; not the least of which, he was going through Eleanor’s purse.
“Hey!” I stepped forward, obviously startling him, and grabbed her purse off the console table. “Who are you?”
The man, his hand over his chest—further evidence I’d caught him by surprise—stared at me with wide, stunned eyes. “Who am I? Who the fuck are you?”
He wore black pants, maybe jeans, a Bruins T-shirt, and black boots. A silver chain hung at his side, a wallet chain, and the letters F U C K were tattooed on the back of one set of fingers; on the other set were Y O U S.
The man looked a lot like Dan, just with gray-blue eyes, and older. It was difficult to determine how much older because—even filled with surprise—his eyes looked hard, weary in a way Dan’s weren’t. But his hair held some gray, salt and pepper at the temples. I deduced the age difference must’ve been at least ten years.
“You’re Seamus.” Now that I really inspected him, I recognized the face from pictures around the house.
“Yeah. I am.” His gaze slithered over me uncertainly. “And you are?”
Regardless of familial relationship, I didn’t like the fact that he’d been digging in Eleanor’s bag. I held fast to my righteous indignation and advanced on him.
He took a step back.
“I’ll ask the questions.” I lifted my chin, glaring. “What do you think you’re doing with Eleanor’s purse?”
He raised an eyebrow, his head sliding back on his neck. Seamus peered at me like I was something strange, or maybe like I was something crazy. “None of your goddamn business.”
I shook my head, looking him over. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”
He blinked at me, like I’d again surprised him. “You don’t even know what I was doing. Maybe I was leaving her a birthday card.”
“Her birthday was last month.”
“That’s right. It’s a belated birthday card.” His gaze traveled over me again and his tongue swept along his bottom lip, obvious admiration behind his eyes as they settled on my breasts.
Ugh. Gross.
I turned from him and walked back to the kitchen, bringing Eleanor’s purse with me and putting it in the cupboard where she kept the plates. As soon as I shut the cabinet, I heard shuffling footsteps enter the kitchen. He was watching me. I felt his eyes on my back as I continued scrubbing the sink.
“Who are you?” he asked, his voice quieter.
Without turning around, I said, “I’m Dan’s wife.”
A few seconds passed, during which I rinsed out the sink. His footsteps came closer.
“Dan has a wife?”
“Yes.”
“Since when?”
“A few weeks ago.” I glanced at him. He’d come to stand next to the sink, five-ish feet away, and he wore a confused frown.
“Was there a wedding?”
Turning off the water, I faced him, a little surprised by the subtle hint of vulnerability in the question, like he was hurt—but was trying to hide it—that he hadn’t been invited.
“No. Not really.” I watched him closely. “We were married at the Cook County Clerk's office with one witness.”
His eyes dropped to my stomach. “You’re pregnant.”
Despite myself, I laughed. “Not that I know of.”
Seamus scratched his jaw thoughtfully, a movement that was eerily similar to one I’d seen Dan do several times, and my heart warmed a little—just a very little—towards this scoundrel.
Maybe I’d jumped to the wrong conclusion. I had a bad history of jumping to the wrong conclusion, so it was a definite possibility.
Maybe there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for his earlier behavior. I doubted he was leaving his mother a birthday card, but I wondered if perhaps his reasons for digging in her purse were not as sinister as I’d originally suspected.