Page 19 of Ciaran

It’s the second time in three days I’ve been asked what I want. I trawl through my mind, floundering as I try to think of a fancy cocktail or a sophisticated-sounding drink. Coming up empty, I go with, “A Coke.”

Laurella’s hand slices through the air in dismissal. “No, no, no. That won’t do at all. It’s your first day at a new job. Let’s get a cocktail.” She squints at me. “Unless you don’t drink.”

“Oh, I drink,” I say, even though, apart from the one glass of wine I drank at dinner with Ciaran, it’s been more than two years since alcohol has passed my lips.

The memory pops into my mind, unwelcome and uninvited. Tanner’s birthday—he’d ordered champagne. I’d drunk more than normal. He’d been in an unusually good mood, and we’d staggered back home, laughing, joking, like in the early days of our relationship before we’d moved to Chicago. Then I’d made a transgression of some sort—I never figured out what—and that was when the verbal abuse had started. The guilt trip: how I wasn’t good enough for him; how I’d put on weight; I was becoming unattractive; he didn’t know what he saw in me anymore.

I’d plucked up the courage to speak out, telling him if he thought those things about me, then maybe we shouldn’t stay married any longer. That way we’d both be happier. He’d thrown himself on the floor, begging me to stay. Shaking with what I now recognize as pure rage, he insisted it was shock and grief. He didn’t want to lose me. I meant everything to him, I was his world, and if I left him, he’d kill himself.

Oh, yeah. Tanner wasn’t averse to the odd suicide threat just to keep me in line. And guess what? It worked. I apologized. Admitted it was all my fault. Told him, of course, I’d never leave him, and how much I loved him.

As soon as I capitulated, Tanner reassumed control, and nothing had changed.

“Millie?”

I drag my thoughts back to the present at Laurella’s interjection. “Sorry, I’m thinking.”

“How about a Long Island Iced Tea? It’s so hot today, and it has Coke in it.”

I chuckle. “Okay, you sold me.”

“Isa, two Long Island Iced Teas.”

“Coming right up.”

Isa puts down our drinks, with condensation dripping down the sides of the glasses. Laurella picks them up and passes one to me, raising hers in the air. “Cheers.”

I grab a napkin and fiddle with the edges. When my fidgeting draws Laurella’s eye, I push the napkin away and sip my drink. My abdomen pulls and twists. The woman sitting beside me is so confident, so well put together, so strong in the way she dealt with Callum—amplifying my weakness in my submission to Tanner—that I can’t help feeling a twinge of envy. By comparison, I have a canyon to cross, and without a rope or boat in sight, I’m not sure I’ll ever reach the other side.

“I’m sorry about Callum. He can’t help himself.”

I grimace. “He has every right to say as he pleases.”

Laurella raises an eyebrow. “I couldn’t disagree more. I only caught the very end of the conversation, but what he said was not okay, and believe me, I shall reiterate that point to him until he gets it through his Neanderthal skull. Ciaran wants you here, and therefore, we all want you here.”

I bite the inside of my cheek and cast my eyes downward. A few seconds scrape by. To cover the awkward silence, I drink a bit more of the cocktail. It’s strong, and already my head is a little woozy.

“I don’t mean to pry.” Laurella touches my forearm. “I’m happy to listen if you want to talk.”

I suck in my lips, wondering whether Ciaran has told them why I’m in New York, or if it’s my odd behavior that’s alerted Laurella’s intuition. As much as I’d love to offload, I’m far from ready. Not to mention a woman like Laurella, fearless and bold as a lioness, couldn’t possibly begin to understand how I allowed Tanner to control and manipulate me until he crushed the very essence of my soul.

“There you are.”

Ciaran’s arrival saves me from answering. Just as well, because I’m not sure how to respond. He has a faint bruise across one cheekbone that I’m sure hadn’t been there this morning.

“Oh, God, Ciaran. What happened to you?”

He presses his fingertips to his face. “This? It’s nothing. A scuffle with a perp, that’s all.”

Laurella picks up her drink and stands, accepting Ciaran’s kiss on the cheek. “I shall leave you to it. Welcome to the team, Millie. I’m sure you’ll fit in wonderfully.”

I thank her as Ciaran slides onto the seat she’s vacated. He shakes his head at Isa’s offer of a drink.

“How was your first day?” he asks.

A smile inches across my face. “Okay, I think. I enjoyed myself.”

“So, you’re planning to stick around?”

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