Page 119 of Dirty Eoin

A last-ditch attempt at convincing myself that I haven’t spent all this time waging a war I should never have started in the first place. I’ve been reduced to clutching at flimsy fucking straws.

“I’m not saying Eoin’s blameless, Jaine, far from it, but then none of us are. He did it for Paddy in the main. You weren’t to know, but he was pickling his liver on a daily basis. It became clear pretty early on that Paddy needed you to anchor him. That he always had.”

“He doesn’t need me anymore.” I hate that I’ve gone from sounding defensive to sounding pathetic.

“He’s moved on. He had no choice.”

“Why message me for two years to then just stop? I just don’t get it.” Even I can hear the frustration in my voice.

“He made his bed, Jaine.” He sounds sympathetic. I don’t want his pity. I want to know why Irish messaged me all that time to then just blank me when we met face to face.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“He took Sophia’s purity the night of my engagement party.”

Everything falls into place. From turning hot to cold. The look of indifference. Now it all adds up.

“Paddy’s the loyal sort. You know that better than anyone, Jaine. Sophia’s his wife now. Nothing can change that. He will never disrespect her. And he will never leave her.”

Dylan’s just telling me what I need to know. That Irish has let me go and that I have to do the same with him.

I disconnect the call and stare at the wall.

“Did I do the right thing, Ace?” I ask the question out loud. I wish he could tell me what to do next. About Eoin. About Irish. About how to keep placing one foot in front of the other now he’s gone. “Why did you have to go and fucking leave me?” My frustration releases in a sob.

Because I know if he were here, everything would be okay. But he’s not. So the way I see it is nothing will be okay ever again.

Tears don’t help, especially ones of self-pity, but I can’t stop them from falling. I’m overwhelmed by guilt, sadness, and betrayal.

I spend the rest of the day with the kids. Just me and them. We play games and we watch movies. Disney ones where the cliché blonde princess really does find her happily ever after.

In the evening, with Duke minding the children, I leave for the MMA club. I’m going to take out my frustrations by punching a fucker legally in the face.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-EIGHT

JAINE

Jaine’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York

I’ve putboth babies to bed, and Duke’s just preparing to leave. His presence is comforting. Familiar. In so many ways, it’s like Ace is here with me. They look so alike and have so many similarities. I hope little JJ shares them too. Then again, Ace will have picked most up from Duke due to proximity. Tears prick my eyes that JJ will never have any relationship with his own beautiful daddy.

I miss Ace so much. Since returning to New York, it feels like I haven’t had chance to breathe, let alone grieve.

“Jainie.”

My face must give my feelings away as Duke sits beside me on the sofa and pulls me against his chest. He knows I’m fragile right now. He’s known me since I was seven years old.

I can’t hide from him. Not even if I wanted to.

And then I cry.

For Ace. For Duke. For JJ.

And then I cry tears of self-pity.

Over Ace. Over Padraig. Over Eoin.

“He cares about you a great deal, you know.”

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