Page 2 of Hidden Vows
I study him for a moment, noticing the deepening circles under his eyes. They’ve gotten darker over the last seven months, making me nervous. He’s too young to look as weathered as he does now.
He’s always taken such good care of himself, something anyone can tell from his strong, athletic build. At fifty-eight, he’s almost the definition of a silver fox. There’s still a decent amount of darkness peppering his hair, but the gray is starting to appear more. With the dimples that often show up and his tattoos on full display, he’s got the classic Hollywood look with a rugged, masculine edge.
I used to question why he never got remarried, especially with all the attention he receives, but I understand it now. Even though it’s been thirty-six years since he lost his wife, he’ll never move on from her.
Looking at him now, though, I’m questioning if he’s doing as well as I want to believe.
Shaking myself from my thoughts, I turn to the dance floor. “I’m glad they’re happy, especially after everything they’ve been through,” I say, lifting the glass of whiskey to my lips and soaking in the burn as it slides down my throat.
“Oh, mo stór.” The weight of Walt’s arm falls across myshoulder as he pulls me into his side. The comforting scent of leather and tobacco invades my nose, making me relax further into his side.
Proving he knows me better than anyone else, Walt continues as if he can read my mind.” I wish one of you would just tell me what happened. It kills me to see you both this way.” He pauses, his arm around me tightening. “I know neither of you are happy with the lives you’re living.” I feel his lips press a kiss to the top of my head, exactly like a father would while trying to comfort his child. “I sometimes question if either of you are truly living at all.”
The last is said so quietly I know I wasn’t meant to hear it, but I ignore the words. Instead, I focus on the solace of being in his comforting embrace.
This is the one topic we’ve both silently agreed never to talk about, but it shouldn’t surprise me it didn’t last forever. Asking a man like Walt not to talk about his son is like asking a journalist not to dig into the story of a lifetime.
“My life is nothing like I thought it’d be, but I’m not unhappy,” I tell him honestly, smoothing my hand over an imaginary wrinkle in my dress. “I wish I could go back and have you in my life for the last seventeen years, though.” I elbow him gently, trying to lighten the mood.
Walt’s arm falls from my shoulders as he steps in front of me, catching my eyes so he’s looking right at me.
“But are you happy?”
Am I happy? If I’m being honest, no, I don’t think I am. I’ve been going through the motions for the last seventeen years, barely living. I let my failed relationship with Jude dictate every action. I stopped trusting people, and as a result I stopped letting anyone into my life. The less chances there were for someone to hurt me,the better.
It wasn’t until Ava started working at the bookstore seven months ago that I really started to open up to people again. There were a few people who came into the bookstore that I considered quasi-friends, but none I would’ve called in an emergency.
Thanks to Ava, a woman who dropped everything to come to town to help Scott Marks—one of the best men this town has ever known—with a custody case, I now have more people in my life than I know what to do with. Most importantly, Walt’s back in my life, and that’s something I’ll cherish forever.
Instead of telling Walt any of that or even being the slightest bit honest with him, I shrug. He doesn’t have to say anything for me to know he doesn’t believe me.
“I’m working on it,” I whisper when he doesn’t look away.
Walt pulls me into a hug, holding on tight. “I guess that’s all I can ask for.”
Why arethe lights on at Murphy’s?
There’s no real reason to glance at the watch on my wrist; I’m well aware it’s past midnight. And realistically, the time doesn’t even matter. Murphy’s was closed today because of the wedding, and I can’t think of a single reason Walt would stop by on his way home.
Quickening my steps, I rush to the door. I’m shocked when the door swings open as I tug on the handle. Walt’s usually pretty good about keeping this door locked outside business hours.
“Walt? You here?” I shout, standing at the threshold.
There’s music playing softly, but the place is silent. Not a person in sight.
Letting the door fall shut behind me, I step further into the bar,looking around for any sign of life.
I’ve never been to Ireland, but I imagine if I had, this place would be a replica of a country pub. The second I step inside a rush of warmth overwhelms me. The dark woods and amber lighting create a soft, cozy feeling of a warm living room, inviting you to pull up a chair and chat with friends.
Sometimes, this place feels more like home than anywhere else, and I’ve missed it terribly. I’ll forever be grateful to the women who pushed their way into my life.
If it hadn’t been for Quinn and Emily walking into the bookstore all those months ago and forcing me to join them and Ava for a ladies’ night, I wouldn’t be walking in this door right now.
I wouldn’t have been at the wedding either—something I’m not entirely sure I’m grateful for.
“Walt,” I shout, moving toward the back of the bar.
Maybe he’s in the kitchen? But why is he even here?
