Page 74 of Accidental Irish Daddy

Giving myself time.

It’s the right thing to do.

23

Grant

It’s been almost a week since talking to Aisling and I feel like I’m climbing the walls. Working out isn’t helping very much anymore, and I’m having a hard time concentrating on work.

Today, I decided to take a little time off. I’m not much good at the office anyway.

I have decided to focus on Aisling’s case. Turning seemed fairly confident that our marriage would heavily tip the scales in her case, but if she decides not to come back to me…

I don’t want her to feel pressured. I want her to want to come to me. Because she loves me. Not because she thinks she needs to stay with me to win Bridget in court.

This morning, I hired a private detective to find dirt on Liam. Somebody like him has to have something more incriminating circling around him that can be used against him in court. Even if all the PI got were photos of him throwing wild parties, that could be just enough for the judge to see that Bridget would be in a better situation with Aisling.

Maybe.

I’m bothered by all that he said about her line of work. Turning’s the best solicitor there is, but he’s not a magician. I can’t imagine a judge overlooking her job in this case, even with Liam’s drinking. He might just decide to deny them both custody, which would be the absolute worst case.

After I get off the phone with the detective, I remember all the times I’ve sat in the parlor and drank whiskey until I was so drunk I’d pass out. Shameful as that was, at least I wasn’t thinking of my troubles.

Shit. If I’m thinking about drinking, I must be in a bad way. I should work in Martha’s garden. I know that Aisling and Bridget are there but…

I can’t stay here. I’ll go crazy if I stay here.

***

Martha isn’t home when I get there. And, once again, the front door is unlocked. I’m really going to have to have a chat with her about that, especially with Aisling and Bridget being here now.

I walk in and as if she’s been peeking in my windows, the gardening gloves are sitting on the counter. I pick them up and realize that one doesn’t have to be a mind reader to figure I’m probably going out of my mind with worry.

I go out the back door and the first thing I see is Bridget sitting by the peonies. She’s wearing one of Martha’s big sun hats and some gardening gloves that are far too large for her hands. She’s got a toy tea set spread out in front of her with little teacups on saucers in front of each sprout.

“Well, yes, Mrs. Buckleberry,” she’s saying in a high-pitched voice. “I often have tea with Prince WilliamandKate. They’re very nice. Not so fond of Queen Camilla, though. She’s far too stiff.”

I can’t help but chuckle. She starts and looks over at me, her eyes wide.

“Don’t stop on my account,” I say. “I was just off to weed the tomatoes.”

She looks over at the line of tomatoes growing tall and red on the other side of the garden with the rest of the vegetables. Then she looks back at me, “Hello, Mr. Duncan. I didn’t know you were coming over.”

“Neither did I,” I say, walking down to her. “Having tea with the peonies, are you?”

She nods. Then she points to the sprout nearest to her, “This is Mrs. Buckleberry. She’s the oldest. Sprouted first before them all. It was her idea to have tea today.”

I squat down next to her. “I see. And have you named the others?”

“That one’s George. He’s kind of a grump. You can tell by the way he bends to one side like that. And that one’s Dorothy. She’s already got a little skirt, you, see?”

I nod as she points to the little arrangement of leaves on the sprout. “You think maybe they’ll want water instead of tea? Being that they’re plants.”

She chuckles. “This is just pretend, you know? They’re notreallydrinking tea.”

“What are you doing here?”

The voice catches me by surprise. I look up to see Aisling standing in the doorway. I smile at her. “We’re just gardening,” I say. “Well, I’m about to. Bridget, here’s having a tea party.”

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