Page 6 of Dearly Betrayed

“That’s one way of thinking about it.”

“Set the meeting, alright, Chim? Set it soon, before the wedding.”

“I’ll get it done.”

He starts walking. I watch him go before striding off to the closest slot machine and park my ass down. If I’m going to get sold off to some stranger soon, I may as well keep my mind off it with some gambling.

This feels like a betrayal of Papa, like a betrayal of everything I’m supposed to believe in, but the thought of Quinnie or some other Grady girl going through this instead keeps my chin up.

At the very least, even if this Jayson guy’s some raging bastard, at least I can say I saved another girl from this damn fate.

Chapter4

Fallon

The boardwalk in November is blustery and gray. The Atlantic rolls along sucking at the sand, the sky covered over by thick clouds. The boards are slick from a recent freezing rain, and no matter how tightly I pull my jacket, I can feel the chill in my bones. Just like back home. I wonder if I’ll ever see the place again, if I’ll get to sit on a stoop with my cousins watching the boys walk past on the sidewalk, if I’ll drink tea with the aunts and listen to the uncles watching footy in the other room, if I’ll go to the pub and have a couple ciders and do some truly awful karaoke with the girls.

There’s so much I’m losing by coming out here. It’s a life, a family. Everything I know. My little flat with the bookshelves and the bay window down the block from Rian’s spot. My plants, taken in by Aunty Bee. The sound of my city, the language of my people. Well, they speak English here, but it’s not proper.

“He should be right up here.” Rian walks by my side. Padraig and Darragh lurk behind like always, our two well-armed shadows. Ahead, figures are clustered near the railing. Marshy grass blows along the dunes, waving in the bitter wind. “Know what you’re going to say?”

I shake my head and brush my curly red hair from my face. “I’ve got some ideas,” I say, but that’s not true—I have no clue what I’ll say to my future husband, the man who had my Papa murdered, the man who ruined the lives of so many people in my family. What’s there to tell him?Hey, ready to get hitched to your mortal enemy?It feels so absurd, this meeting, but I need it more desperately than I’m willing to admit to Rian.

If I’m going to marry this man, I want it to be at least cordial. I don’t want or expect love—that’s so far out of the question that it’s nearly obscene to consider—but friendship could blossom one day. I want this to work at any rate, since I only ever planned on marrying and marrying once—people in my world don’t get divorced. That’s not the Irish Catholic way. Which means when I say those vows, I say them for real, forever, until the day I die.

I don’t want there to be any surprises at the wedding. Which means meeting him now, getting a feel for the man, at least seeing what he looks like. He might be a troll, an ogre, or he might be a tiny little elf; I’ve no clue what to expect. But I want to get it out of the way here, right now, so that I can commit myself to this plan and make it work.

Rian holds onto my arm. “Alright, Fallie, that’s them. Once his people move away, he’ll stay there alone, and you’ll approach. I’ll remain here with Paddy and Darragh.”

“You really did choreograph this, didn’t you?”

“Everyone’s on edge. This is all so that nobody gets jumpy and tries something stupid.”

“What’s there to try, Chim?”

“Maybe they decide we’re better off dead.”

“They could’ve tried that a dozen times already. No, I think they’re committed to this too.”

“I think you’re right, but Papa taught me to always be careful.”

“See where that got him?”

He gives me a look. “Not funny.”

“Alright. Not funny.” I jostle from foot to foot, nervous energy rushing through me. “Hells, I feel like I might break to a thousand little pieces. I’m about to meet my future husband.”

“You’ll be okay. Just be yourself.”

“Terrible advice. Who the hell else would I be?”

“Okay then, be the version of you that isn’t a mouthy weirdo jackass.”

“Ah, now that’s much better.” He lets me go when I punch his arm. “That’s for being a dick, Chim.”

“Alright, Fallie. They’re moving. Go on, I’m right here.”

I nod and stare at the man left behind. He’s tall, broad, and muscular. An athletic physique. Wearing a black suit that clings to him. Not a bad start.

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