I groan, stopping just before I barely even started. I turn around and face Nolan, who’s leaning up against a tree behind the garden, a smoke in his hand.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on a honeymoon or something?” I mutter.
He grins. “Aye. We leave tonight, though. Spent the night at home, got the kids situated, and we fly out this evening.”
“Well, then,” I say, turning away from him. “Maybe you ought to go… pack some snacks or something.”
I could head to the greenhouse, but now that he’s seen me, what’s the bloody point? I sigh and walk to the garden.
“Snacks are free in flight.”
“Then go pack a snorkel.”
He chuckles. “Seems like you’d be happy I jumped off the bloody cliff, long as I don’t give you crap for coming home in the clothes you wore to the wedding.”
I cringe.
“Shut it, Nolan. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”
“Who was it, lass?” he asks. I hear him puff on his smoke. “One of the guards?” His voice hardens. “I’ll break his bloody neck.”
I turn to face him, still only a few paces toward my destination. “You will do no such thing, Nolan McCarthy,” I say, wagging a finger in his direction. “I’m a full-grown woman, and how I spend my evenings has nothing at all to do with you.”
He narrows his eyes on me. “Not true, Megan,” he says, his voice hardening. “And you know it.”
“Do I?” I ask him. My phone is buzzing like a defective vibrator in my pocket, and I cringe to think what’s happening. Aileen, wondering if I got abducted by aliens on the way inside. Carson… scolding me for being naughty.
I shiver.
“Be that as it may, I had a lovely evening, thankyouverymuch, and now I’m off to get dressed and get some breakfast.”
But he follows me.
“Nolan, your wife is calling,” I say over my shoulder as he peppers me with questions.
“A bloke at the Club? One of the single lads that came? Christ, Megan, tell me it wasn’t one of our own, now.”
“Lalalalalala,” I singsong, shoving my fingers in my ears as I walk toward the house. “I can’t heearrr youuuuu.”
“Feckin’ twelve-year-old in the body of a woman,” he mutters. I ignore him, but his guesses are way too bloody close for comfort.
“Go away,” I tell him. “Or I’ll—I’ll call Keenan on you.”
He snorts. “And tell him what? I’m watching out for you?”
I spin around and point my finger at him. “This is not watching out for me. It’s smothering me. We used to be on the same team, you know. Don’t you remember?”
We’d sneak out in the middle of the night and drink on the rooftop, both standing guard so the other wasn’t caught. I bailed him out so many times, saving him from his older brothers’ wrath, and he bailed me out, making sure Aunt Maeve and Uncle Seamus never knew about the boyfriends I had or the parties I went to.
“Oh, I remember,” he says, “but Megan, we were kids then.” His voice hardens. “And we aren’t now.”
And that’s it. I’m done. I’m done trying to meet everyone’s expectations of me under the guise of being “protected.” I’ve had it. I love my life and I live it to the fullest, but it’s damn hard under this roof. It’s time I do something for me.
“Fuck off, Nolan,” I say. I ignore the hurt in his eyes, turn my back to him, and pretend I didn’t just curse out one of my very best friends. Before he can say another word, I run toward the back entrance.
He doesn’t follow.
Aileen waits at the door for me, concern written in her brow. “Bloody hell, woman, what took you so long to get here from the garden?”
I briefly tell her with a sigh. She ushers me into the house, oblivious to the painful twinge in my chest at what just happened. Shaking her head, she takes my hand and leads me through the kitchen. The staff doesn’t look our way, used to turning a blind eye to what members of the Clan do.
“Coast is clear all the way to the east wing,” she says. “Go. But woman, you’d better be prepared to fill me in later.”
“Aye,” I tell her. “Thank you.”
I make it to my room, my trip uneventful, thanks to Aileen’s scouting. But my heart is in the garden.
I spent the night with one of Nolan’s best friends. I hate that I have to hide it. What does this even mean?
I make it to my room, essentially a flat within the McCarthy mansion. As soon as I shut and lock the door, I exhale and lean my head against the door. My phone buzzes again. I swallow, draw in breath, and take it out of my pocket.
Sir: Where are you?
Where is he? He’s likely in this house, this very minute, and he’s thinking of me.