“I wouldn’t want to get on your bad side,” I observed.
He regarded me curiously, taking another sip of the amber liquid. “I doubt you could get on my bad side.”
“That sounds like a challenge,” I said.
“It’s not. I’ve had plenty of negative experiences with women.”
“Such as?” I pulled a pillow onto my lap.
“Seanan’s ma,” he answered, finishing his drink.
I held my breath. I was curious to know the details, but I didn’t think it was my place to ask. If he wanted to share the history with me, I would listen, but I wasn’t going to pressure him to tell me.
“I was attracted to her.” He sighed, setting the glass down on the coffee table. “I was never in love with her, but she was very pretty. She was a little crazy too, and I guess that was something I also enjoyed. She was my secretary.”
I pressed my lips together, fighting to avoid a typical reaction. What he was telling me could have come straight from the playbook of a billionaire bachelor. Fucking the secretary was almost a cliché.
“Of course, she quit her job. And when she got pregnant, I proposed to her. She accepted, but then vanished. I looked everywhere for her.” His voice was raw, demonstrating real pain. I had to walk back my previous assessment. There wasn’t anything typical about Flynn’s situation. The desperation came across clearly. Even back then, he had championed Seanan’s rights as only a true father could.
“You don’t have to tell me,” I said.
“I want to,” he persisted. “You have a right to know.”
“Does Seanan know any of this?” I asked.
“No. And she shouldn’t.” His gaze became icy, demanding that I keep his secrets.
I nodded, agreeing without hesitation.
Flynn drew a deep breath, soldiering on. “After she had the baby, she came back to get more money. I gave her as much as I thought was fair, a hundred thousand euros.”
I sucked air through my teeth, imagining what I could do with such a sum. It was more than I had ever seen in my life, enough to set me up for several years without pain.
“She left the baby with me, and I haven’t seen her since.”
“Do you think she’ll come back?” I asked, almost dreading the confrontation. If Seanan’s mom were back in the picture, where would that leave me?
“I don’t think so,” he replied. “For a few years, I wondered, but she must have found some other cash cow, because with her spending habits, what I gave her wasn’t going to last.”
“I’m sorry.” I reached out to cover his hand with my own. It was an instinctive reaction from one person to another. I felt his pain and wanted to comfort him.
He looked over at me, and for the first time that evening, he actually smiled. “What about you? What drove you to Ireland?”
“What makes you think anything drove me here?” I countered.
“Beautiful young lass, with no connections in the world. There has to be a story there,” he observed.
“My nan was born here,” I said. It was only fair for me to share my history with him after he had been so open about his own. “She had cancer, and I quit my job almost a year ago to take care of her.”
“That takes guts.”
“Not really,” I sighed, remembering. “She was the closest thing that I had to a best friend. And my father wasn’t going to do it. Everyone else in our lives wanted to send her to a home, but I couldn’t let that happen.”
“Is that often the case in America?” he asked.
“Yes. People dump their older relatives in assisted living facilities and leave them there,” I explained. “There’s no respect.”
“That sounds grim.”