My name is barely out of Saoirse’s mouth before I round on her. “You will nottouchhim,” I growl. “Have whatever lovers you want, but he’s beneath you. I won’t have it.”
Something flares in Saoirse’s face at that. “We agreed we wouldn’t tell each other about it,” she says tautly. “Not that there’s anything going on. But we agreed it was to be discreet and not each other’s business. I want to keep it that way if this is how things are going to be.”
“He’s only using you,” I tell her coldly, and the flicker of hurt in her eyes pleases me somehow. “He wants you not to marry me, to try and save Liam’s place.”
“I would never break my vow,” Saoirse says evenly. “I’m going to be your wife, Connor, and together we will take back the Kings. Nothing can change that—”
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I swear under my breath, digging it out. I see the number on the screen, and my finger hovers over the button to decline it, but something stops me.
Speak of the devil—
“Go inside, Saoirse.”
“But—”
“Go inside!” I snap sharply, as the phone vibrates again. “I’ll meet you in a moment.”
Saoirse turns, her expression hurt, and pushes past me into the pub. As I lift the phone to my ear, I see the buttery light spilling out onto the sidewalk, warm and welcoming, the smells of beer and pub food wafting towards me, and the raucous laughter of my men filling the air.
“Connor?” My brother’s voice comes over the line. He doesn’t have to say that it’s him. Even after not hearing it for so long, I would know my brother’s voice anywhere.
“Liam.” For the first time in years, I say it aloud.
“I hear congratulations are in order.”
So Niall called him.“They are.” I pause, letting the silence hang heavily over the line. “What do you want, brother?”
There’s a hesitation, the sound of indrawn breath. “I called to ask—to say—” Another pause, weighted and heavy. “You could stay there, brother, with her,” Liam says quietly. “Not everything here is as Graham told you. There’s been other discussions—other ways to solve this problem. I know you have a life there, one you’ve made yourself, and I—I’m proud of you. I wanted to tell you that, as well.” Another breath, and I feel my heart clench at those last words, but I push it aside.
No more room for feelings or emotion. That time is past. “How did you get my number?” I ask quietly.
“I have my ways.” Another pause. “You don’t have to do this, Connor. Stay there, with the life you’ve made. With Saoirse, even. Behappy, as I am. I know—this isn’t what you want.”
In so many ways, he’s right. But I’ve gone too far to turn back now. I look into the pub again, into the warm light, Saoirse laughing at something Jacob has said, tilting a pint of beer up to take a sip, and I let out the breath that I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“It’s too late,” I say quietly. “It’s all been set in motion.”
“It’s not—”
“Whatever you have to say,” I interrupt, cutting him off. “Save it. You can tell me in person soon enough.”
“I—”
Whatever he was about to say, it’s cut off as I end the call. I put my phone back into my pocket and breathe in the London night air once more before I walk into that pub and the new future I’ve chosen for myself.
“Don’t worry, little brother,” I murmur. “I’ll be home soon.”
And then I open the door of the pub and walk inside.