Page 155 of On The Rocks

Suddenly nervous, I moved over to the door, my stomach clenching at the thought of what I might find.

What if somebody had broken in?

Mary, mother of Jesus, what if it was a serial killer?

That would be just my luck; I get taken out for a nice dinner on Valentine’s—for the first time ever, may I add—and I end up coming home and getting cut into pieces by a fuckingserial killer.

Ugh.

What utter shite.

Slowly, I pushed the door open, just so I could take the serial killer by surprise, and I stopped dead, my jaw hitting the floor at the sight before me.

I’d walked into my own personal version of heaven on Earth.

The bed, dresser, and all the furniture had been moved out, and, in its place, sat a big, plush, L-shaped couch that took up the entire corner of the room. A giant, comfortable-looking cuddle chair that matched the sofa rested on the opposite side of the room with a coffee table and a spot lamp beside it. The walls had been painted a soft, relaxing cream color, and plush rugs were strewn across the wooden floor to bring everything together.

It was beautiful, but what took my breath away was that an entire wall had been covered in a variety of shelves where all my new books and box sets were carefully arranged.

Stunned, I looked around, taking everything in.

It was the coziest reading nook slash personal library I’d ever seen. I’d shown Callum pictures on social media and in magazines of the kind of room I’d have liked one day, but I always imagined it would be something to aspire to. This room was something else. It was like somebody had drilled into my brain to find out what my best-ever gift in the world would be and then made it happen.

It. Was.Awesome!

My gaze fell on a note propped up against the lamp on the side table with my husband’s carefree scrawl across it. I lunged toward it, curious as to what it would say. Ripping it open impatiently, I pulled out the card, and my heart melted to goo when my eyes fell upon the words.

No book and no quote this time.

It’s just me telling my wife and the love of my soul...

Buaileann mo chro? duit.

My heart beats for you.

A small sobescaped my throat as something sparked back to life inside me.

I didn’t know if it was the surprise of the wonderful room or just the simple beauty of the words my husband had written, but the myriad of emotions I felt at that moment filled my heart and soul.

What else was I waiting for Callum to prove?

He clearly loved me, he obviously respected me, and he was trying to do better. My husband had bared his soul and confessed his deepest, darkest fears. Callum was doing everything I’d asked of him, and I didn’t want to punish him anymore by not being with him. I was only punishing myself.

Turning, I exited the room and sprinted through the hallway to race down the stairs. Wrenching the door open, I hoofed it across the courtyard and up the side of the bar onto Main Street.

Somebody called my name—Donovan maybe—but I was so focused on getting to my destination that it hardly registered.

Frantically, I stared down the street, my eyes searching for my husband. That was when the heavens opened, and rain began to teem down on me.

“Callum!” I yelled down the pitch-black, rain-filled street.

Silence.

“Maeve?” Donovan demanded from behind me. “What are you doing?”

“I need to find Callum,” I cried, my heart hammering so hard that I felt it throbbing in my ears.

“Get inside,” my brother-in-law ordered. “You’ll catch your death.”

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