Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 104165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104165 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 521(@200wpm)___ 417(@250wpm)___ 347(@300wpm)
I feel my eyes go wide as saucers as I try to take in all the gorgeous marble and fine appliances. It’s way bigger than the kitchen at the shelter, and that fed sixty women.
“I’ll talk while I make some omelets.”
“This is just for you?” I gesture around the high-ceiling room.
He nods and pulls open the refrigerator. “You can sit there.” He points to luxury padded stools by the gigantic counter of the center island.
Instead, I wander towards the huge wall of windows. A door leads to a patio deck. Beyond it is a glittering pool and a gigantic, beautifully manicured backyard.
“Did we meet some place like this?” I ask. “At a chalet in Ireland or something?”
I turn back around to see Domhnall shaking his head. “It was a dive of an internet cafe in the bad part of Dublin. You looked over my shoulder and saw I was on a hidden wiki. You asked if I knew the way to the Silk Road and I turned around and was knocked on my ass— Fuck,” he winces. “I still can’t believe you were only thirteen or fourteen. To me you just seemed like a gorgeous blonde American bombshell. You looked like Brittney Spears but um… hotter.” He mutters the last word.
“Blonde?” I hold out my brown hair.
“You must’ve dyed it. I’m sure it was part of the gig.” His face hardens. “The fucking bastard knew the blonde would turn the head of any lad.”
I take a small step back and he drags a hand through his hair. “Jaysus, Mads. I’m sorry I blamed you for any of it. I shoulda fucking seen how young you were. None of it was your fault.”
“It wasn’t?” I ask with a small voice.
“Course not! It’s your cocksucker father’s, may he rot in hell!” If I thought his face was hard a moment ago, it’s nothing to the iron jaw he’s got now. He looks absolutely murderous. And I remember the rest of what he said yesterday. About what my father did to him. Over and over and over.
I fly across the room and plaster my arms around him again.
“Hey there,” he says, all softness.
“I’m so sorry.” My voice is barely a whisper.
“I’m alrigh’.”
Is he?
I just nod into his chest, though.
He’s got eggs on the counter. “Can I help you crack them?” I ask.
“You know how?”
“I wanna try,” I say tentatively. I pick up an egg and it feels like I know what to do. I crack it expertly against the bowl with one hand, dropping yolk inside without any shell. I beam up at Domhn. “Look, I know how!”
He pushes a button, and a trashcan extends from a cabinet in the island. I toss the shell.
“Five more. I’ll get to chopping the peppers.”
I nod happily. And, wanting to keep to lighter things, I decide not to prod at my past anymore. “How old were you and Moira when you came to the states? Other than sometimes, you barely have an accent.”
“Seventeen.”
I curl into myself. Right. Because of what me and my father did to them. Making them leave their country.
He looks back at me. “But I’m not done telling you about us. It’s alright, love. I’ll skip around the bad parts. I know you always wanted to leave the movies before they got to the sad bits.”
I freeze where I’m about to crack another egg and look over at him where he’s brought peppers and onions from the fridge to chop beside me. “I still do that!”
He smiles a little, and it looks so foreign, it transforms his whole face. For just a second, Donny’s back. He’s so serious all the time, he usually seems a decade older than twenty-six.
“Every afternoon you and me would grab some food and head over to the Green.” He looks up from chopping, crystal blue eyes intense on me. “You’d feed the ducks your leftover bread, chattering on and on.” He smiles and it lightens his whole face. “I’d just stare at you, mesmerized that a woman like you’d ever be interested in a lad like me.”
He looks back down and starts chopping again. Meanwhile my stomach’s dropped out from underneath me. I can’t imagine the two of us ever like that.
Finally I drag my eyes away from him and crack another couple eggs. “Of course I’d be interested in you,” I murmur. “You’re gorgeous and smart and really kind…” I shoot him a shit-eating grin, “at least when you want to be.”
His eyes come back to mine, and he smiles again, this time with a wicked edge that makes my stomach swoop in a different way. And I can’t decide if I like that smile best or the gentle one, and then decide I like them both best.
“What did I chatter about? Or was it just background noise?” I feel my cheeks heat, eyes dropping. Obviously he’s not going to remember after all these years.