Page 130 of Dirty Eoin

Eoin and I didn’t love each other. I was only willing to go ahead because I was game-playing, and Eoin wasn’t willing at all as he felt obligated to marry Molly.

We had no solid foundation for any marriage, and when you try to build on a bed of shifting sands, at some point, everything is going to crumble and fall.

The marriage vows were repeated, but it was without the necessary intent or promise. They weren’t meant. They weren’t heartfelt, and we all too quickly reached the point where we could go neither backward nor forward.

In the end, it wasn’t checkmate after all. It was stalemate.

All that aside, there were two other important considerations that had to be taken into account. The fact that I loved his baby brother. The fact that he’d moved on with someone else.

In the end, I think it all worked out for the best because he shouldn’t have to settle, and that’s exactly what he would have been doing with me. He deserves to experience true love at least once in his life.

And now? Well, given that he’s Finian’s uncle and Ava may soon be his aunt, it’s time to wipe the slate clean and move on. We have no choice.

My life is back on track.

Professionally, I’m in a good place. Mentally, I’m in a good place.

Emotionally? I’m getting there slowly but surely and one day at a time. I’m just not there yet, and that’s why tomorrow is just too soon.

The signed annulment paperwork was only received from Eoin yesterday. No explanation as to the delay, not that I’d bothered to chase it up.

Was I having second thoughts? Was he? Who knows?

I guess he’s been busy moving on with his life. I’m not sure what my excuse was.

So, no, I’d sooner not have to attend Finian and JJ’s joint birthday party at Chez O’Connell. Quite frankly, shooting myself in the head with one of my own engraved bullets is more appealing than the thought of colliding with the happy couple and having to pretend everything is A-okay. Even though I continue to hammer nail after nail after nail, each one a resounding affirmation of all the reasons why things had to end between us, I miss him.

Our intense conversations. Our heated arguments. His pomp. His arrogance. His light. His dark. I miss all three hundred and sixty fucking degrees of Eoin O’Connell.

I may not like the fact that I have feelings for him, but I can’t deny them any longer, at least not to myself.

But it’s not love.

I also have no interest in meeting Roisin. Despite what Jessie thinks, Icanput that off forever. I’ve managed to avoid any interaction with her up until now, and I’d like for it to remain that way.

I’m not blood. I’m not family. I’m merely the biker female who birthed her grandson.

“Do you want them to think you’re a scaredy cat?”

I snort. “Excuse me, but are we back in kindergarten?”

She ignores me and continues, which is what Jessie does when she’s about to get on her soapbox. She thinks if she’s talking loudest then she’s winning, and sometimes it’s easier not to argue and to just let her get on with it.

“Well, do you? Because the Jaine Jones I knew would never have backed down from anything or anyone. She was strong. She was fearless. She was…”

“And maybe that Jaine Jones left the building when her husband got killed.”

“So, in other words, sheisa scaredy cat.”

“Not at all. She just needs a little more time to heal.”

It’s a flimsy excuse. Jessie doesn’t need to know it’s because I don’t want to collide with the future Ma and Da Duster.

She scoffs. “You can’t keep hiding behind that old chestnut, Jaine. It’s been eight months.”

“There’s no time limit on grief.”

“Ace wouldn’t want…”

---