I liked—no, I loved—being in his arms. I loved the after just as much as I loved the during.
At my nod, he relaxed. And after a while his breathing evened out and I realized he’d fallen asleep. A moment later my phone lit up with a call.
Ronan.
My heart lurched. Since it was on silent, I let the call ring out, and a minute later I saw he’d left a voicemail. Picking up the phone and rising carefully from the bed, I held it to my ear and listened.
Hey Luce,
Look, I know things have been hectic the past few days and we haven’t really had the chance to talk, but I wanted to apologize for how I spoke to you in the car. Annie’s right, I was being a bully. I just care about you so much and I don’t want you getting hurt by bad people. You’re your own person and I understand that you get to make your own decisions, so I’m going to try to be less of a protective oaf from now on. Well, as much as I can be. Just know I’m sorry and I’ll always be there to look out for you. Anyway, call me when you get this.
As soon as the call clicked off, I looked back at Sean, indecision churning in my gut. My brother wasn’t the kind of guy to often admit when he was wrong, so that message was a big deal. And as much as he didn’t want to upset me, I didn’t want to hurt him.
But I didn’t want to upset Sean, either.
I didn’t know what to do.
What Sean and I had just shared had been monumental, life altering, and as much as I loved Ronan, I wasn’t sure I could give up what I had with Sean just to keep Ronan happy.
And I couldn’t bring myself to feel regret. If I’d had the chance, I knew I’d do everything exactly the same. I’d make the same choices. I wouldn’t give up my time with Sean for a mountain of inner peace. Still, I needed time to think, to figure out a plan to tell Ronan about Sean and get him to accept him in my life without summoning the apocalypse.
By the time I was dressed he was snoring lightly, and I hated myself for leaving him, but there was nothing else for it. Finding a pad of paper and a pen, I scribbled down a quick note and left it on the end of the bed.
Tonight was everything. I’m sorry I left when I promised I’d stay, but I just need some time to think. We’ll talk after the wedding.
Yours,
Lucy.
xoxo.
With one last look at his handsome profile in slumber, I slipped out of the room without making a single sound.
Chapter Nineteen
@SeanCassinova When you forget to pack gym socks and all you want to do is run until you’re numb.
*Sean*
I’d been accused of being heartless. Frequently. By everyone.
Well, everyone but Eilish. She was delusional.
Regardless, the accusation never bothered me much because I considered it entirely possible. I liked Eilish, I liked her a lot. I liked my shoes. I liked my fame. I liked having an effective moisturizer. I liked power and money and a good steak.
I almost loved SkyMall magazine.
The last and only thing I knew without a shadow of a doubt I’d loved had been my childhood dog.
But when I woke up and Lucy was gone, such a depth of sorrow and anger and fear flooded my chest that I felt as though I would drown in it.
At first, I tried to explain her absence. Call it self-preservation. Call it wishful thinking. Call it the power of Lucy Fitzpatrick’s messy influence.
However¸ I’d never been good at lying to myself. When I confirmed she was nowhere in the suite, I knew with absolute certainty I was not heartless. I pressed my hand to the ribs on my left side. A violent, stabbing sensation wrest a grimace from me, which made each inhale uncomfortable and shallow.
I was not without a heart. Because, and I admitted this fully aware of how completely pathetic I sounded, there was a good chance my heart had just been broken.
Really, until that moment, I’d been in denial. I’d thought the weekend was the beginning of something new and solid for us. I’d told her I hadn’t forgotten her like she’d insisted would happen. For some bizarre reason, I thought my devotion would make a difference. I thought she’d see my constancy and . . .
I don’t know.
See that I was right?
Give us a real chance?
Choose me?
Present a united front to her brother?
I was a fool.
Her absence could mean only one thing.
And because the acute pain in my chest had only grown more unmanageable within the span of five minutes, I picked up the lamp by the bed and threw it against the wall, shattered pieces of porcelain flying in all directions. I cast my gaze about the room, searching for something else to destroy, still unable to draw a full breath, and caught my reflection in the mirror.
I appeared dazed, incensed, and wholly uncivilized. I’d officially become a melodramatic, sentimental arsehole.