Page 69 of The Irish Arrangement

It was only fair. Shame ate at me as I opened my door and then closed it behind me. I felt terrible, guilty and wretched the longer I kept the secret from him.

Resting my head against the closed door, I dropped my shoulders and just breathed through the heartache of knowing I’d wronged him in not being upfront.

My phone rang, pulling me from my trancelike mood of worry and gloom.

I frowned, reaching for my phone on the nightstand. I hadn’t considered bringing it. Why should I? Oscar and my mother wouldn’t contact me. They’d wait for me to reach out with the spotty reception they thought I had.

But it wasn’t either of them. The number on the screen seemed vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

“Hello?” I answered, glancing at the door. I was worried about who it could be. Declan wanted me to use this only to speak with my mother, and I knew he’d be mad and see this as breaking the rules.

“Cara Gallagher?” the woman asked.

“Yes.”

“I’m calling from the hospital. You are listed as the sole emergency contact for your mother. Nora Gallagher? Yes, that’s it. She’s just arrived at the Emergency Department.”

I sucked in a quick breath and held it.

Once more, I felt my world tipping off its axis.

And the sensation of everything falling apart threatened to suffocate me all over again for the second time tonight.

25

DECLAN

Ian walked into the kitchen just as the doctor finished sewing me up. Riley slid him a glass of whiskey, and I held my empty one up for her to take.

“Frank’s here,” my brother announced.

I glanced from my new stitches to the guard entering the room. He was at the gala with us, still one of Cara’s primary guards, so I wondered why he seemed to just be getting here.

“He stayed to help clean up,” Ian said as Frank slumped to a stool at the island.

“I’m going to check on your father, and I’ll be off,” the doctor said, taking his leave.

“Thank you.” I turned to Frank, willing to give him two seconds of my attention before going to my wife. I didn’t care if she swore she wasn’t hurt. I saw that she had been. Maybe not from my shove to protect her, but by someone’s hand in the moment I’d left her alone.

“I was also one of the men near Cara when she slipped away at the gala,” Frank said.

“Slipped away?” I didn’t like the wording of that. I’d asked Ian to stick with her, but someone else had intercepted and found him. I didn’t fault him. Cara could’ve stayed near him, but she’d left his side too.

“She sought out her stepmother,” Frank said. “I saw from a distance. It was too crowded to get close quickly enough. Then her stepsister slapped her.”

“Saoirse?” I knew the younger woman was a bitch, but why?

“I wasn’t close enough, and another guest was blocking my view from the side, but I clearly saw Cara arguing with the stepsister, or both of them saying something heatedly, then I saw a hand connected with Cara’s cheek and her head flew back. Both of the Murray women walked away, but by the time I caught up to her, you’d found her.”

“Thank you.” This strange sensation of being in the dark had to stop now. I stood and left them all, heading straight to Cara’s room.

And found her in tears.

All this time, I wondered if she was so hardy, so tough on the outside, to be capable of crying. I had my proof.

“Cara?” I closed the doors behind me and hurried to sit next to her on the bed. “What is it?”

She sniffled and wiped her cheeks, so defeated that she didn’t have any fight left in her. No flinch at my presence. No smirk or smart remark to bicker with me like usual.

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