Page 16 of Aidan

Sorcha jerks back. “So I’m the one who has to pay this price by marrying you? I’m the one who’s getting punished for my Da’s actions?”

Ouch. “I’m sorry you see marrying me as a punishment.”

She throws her hands up. “How else would you see it? What happens if you fall in love with someone else? Or I do? What do I tell the boys and Aisling? I didn’t ask for any of this.”

Before I can reply, she jumps up and goes to the bar. I don’t follow her while she pours a shot and tosses it back. Then another. Finally, I move across the room.

“What are you doing?”

Sorcha glares. “I’m getting pissed. What does it look like I’m doing?”

She throws back a third shot.

I reach across, pluck the shot glass out of her hands, and set it on top of the bar. “That’s not going to help or change things and you know it.”

“Maybe I’ll go to sleep and when I wake up, this will have been nothing but a dream. A nightmare, actually.”

“You know, if you keep on, I’ll start thinking you don’t like me or something.” I walk around to her side of the bar, smiling and trying to infuse humor into the situation.

Sorcha blinks those big blue eyes of hers and then they soften. “I know this isn’t entirely your fault, and I shouldn’t take it all out on you. But Da isn’t here and you are so you’re the one who gets the brunt of my anger. Not that it’s entirely undeserved considering you’ve been lying to me forfive fucking years.”

I wince. “I’m sorry.”

She growls. “Stop saying you’re sorry.”

“Fine. Why don’t you go upstairs and get some rest then?” With a hand to her lower back, I guide her to the kitchen. “We’ll talk again tomorrow when you’ve had a chance to sleep on everything.” And sober up.

“I’m still mad at you,” Sorcha slurs the tiniest bit and pokes the middle of my chest.

I clasp her hand and kiss her fingertip. “I know you are.”

She climbs the stairs with me right behind her in case she stumbles, but she makes it safely to the top. At the landing she turns and hugs me. I’m going to take that as a sign that she’ll forgive me after she sobers up and has time to think.

“Night.” I draw back and kiss her forehead.

Sorcha scrunches her nose. “Still mad.”

I chuckle. “Go to sleep.”

She opens the door and then closes it in my face without a goodbye. I head downstairs and come to a stop at the exit. Shite. I don’t have a key to the pub, which means I can’t leave. Otherwise, it’ll be unlocked the whole night. I guess it’s a good thing I slept late today. It’s going to be another long fucking night.

CHAPTER8

Sorcha

My head is pounding.I lie still hoping the pain will ease, but the throbbing at the base of my skull remains. My mouth is dry as the desert, too. What the hell? I hope I’m not getting sick. I can’t afford it. With a groan, I slowly sit up in bed and rest my forehead between my palms. The thud-thud inside only gets worse. My stomach roils, and I swallow back the nausea. Bits and pieces of last night and yesterday return. Oh, yeah. Not sick. Hungover.

I can’t believe Aidan has been lying to me all this time. If we’re going to remain friends—my heart pinches at the possibility ofnotstaying friends—I’m going to have to come to terms with the fact he belongs to the freaking mafia. As much as it should, that isn’t what bothers me the most.

The one person I never imagined lying to me is Aidan.How long would he have continued doing so if those bastards hadn’t shown up yesterday?Forever, probably. That’s what hurts more than anything. It’s the fact he didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth.

And marriage? What the hell was he thinking telling his…brother-in-law, or whatever he is, that I’m his fiancée?Would it really be so bad being Aidan’s wife? Yes, since I could easily fall in love with him. Hell, I’m already halfway there. And then what? Spend the rest of my life loving a husband who doesn’t love me back? Becausethatsounds like a lot of fun.

Would he still cover the debt even if we’re not married? How much did Da borrow from this Sheehan bloke, anyway? If I decline Aidan’s non-proposal and ask him to loan the money to me, will I be able to pay it back? The way he described Liam Campbell, I doubt he’d give me any kind of extension. Which means, either way, I’m screwed. In this moment, I hate Da.

Slowly, I crawl out of bed, trying to keep the nausea at bay, down a couple pain relievers, and take a shower. It’s barely light outside, which means it’s still early and the kids are sleeping. Once I’m done getting dressed, I head into the kitchen and make some tea. While the kettle heats up, I eat a leftover scone, hoping it will settle my stomach. With my cup in hand, I make my way downstairs. I grew up in the pub, and although I never pictured myself running it, especially alone, being inside it soothes me in ways. The familiarity and the reminder of better times, I suspect.

I walk out of the kitchen, turn on one of the lights, and come to an abrupt halt. Lying on his back across four chairs pushed together to form a line is Aidan. His arms are folded over his naked chest and his feet hang over the edge of the last chair. Beneath his head is, only what I can assume, his crumpled shirt. I take a moment to study him. Nearly every chiseled inch of him from just under his pecs, up his chest and neck, across his shoulders, and down both arms all the way to his fingertips is covered in black ink. I asked him once what all the designs and shapes signified and he told me he just liked the way they looked. He also has a couple small facial tattoos, including a tiny four-leaf clover at the corner of his left eye, and a silver hoop through the left side of his nose too.

---