“He’s my best friend.” Ewan rubs his chin. With a forced smile, he asks me, “You’re divorced?”
“Nope. Never married.”
He bites his lower lip. “Who’s the girl’s father?”
I freeze, and the truth sits on the tip of my tongue. Surely, admittinghe’sSadie’s father gets me out of this arrangement everyone made behind my back. Then again, going that far means Ewan, with his powerful connections, could sue for joint custody and possibly take Sadie to America. My daughter and I have never been apart. I need to know him better before I confess. Since he doesn’t recognize me, can’t I claim the same?
I shrug. “An ex-boyfriend. But he did a bunk when I told him I was pregnant.”
“Prick,” he mumbles.
“Are all men so honorable in America?”
“The men I associate with are.” He stands tall and clasps his hands behind his back. “So, you know why I’m here.”
“I do.”
“And you’re agreeing to come with me? To marry Kieran O’Rourke.”
My body shudders at the assumption he’d been given. “I’m just now hearing of this grand plan for me, minutes before you walked yourself through my door.”
“I see.” Ewan releases his hands and paces in front of the unlit fireplace. “Your da duped me.”
“He wants what’s best for me.” I really hope that’s true. “I have a job here, you know. A life. Sadie starts preschool next fall.”
“Clearly, I didn’t know any of this.” He takes a seat in the tired-looking chair next to the window. What a wild contrast. Ewan is so finely dressed, yet everything in this house is worn, frayed, and messy. “You’re a nurse, I hear.”
“Aye.”
“Where did you study?”
“In Cork.”
He nods. “Who takes care of your daughter?”
“Mum’s a midwife. Comes and goes at all different times. Dad was a line supervisor at the plastics factory, but he got hurt and is on disability. He stays home with Sadie while I work.” This is starting to feel like an interview, and my throat vibrates with fear.
“How old is Sadie?” Ewan gives me that once-over again. One that I feel. He glances at my body like it’s hard to believe I pushed out a baby.
His baby.
“Four. Going on thirty. She’s extremely advanced.” Bragging about my daughter lifts my spirits.
“I can tell.” Ewan looks over his shoulder and into the kitchen. “She’s a doll, really. Lively.”
I fold my arms. “Having a daughter means your friend Kieran won’t want me. Is that right?”
His eyes flutter. “I can’t be sure.”
“Let’s call him.” I take my phone out of my back pocket. “What’s his number?”
Ewan laughs. “He doesn’t know I’m here.”
Anger zings through me. “You planned to just show up with me andhopehe’d like me enough to marry me?”
“What’s not to like?” he blurts and then rubs the back of his neck.
“Right. Because those mafia bosses just want trophy wives.” I spin around in my plain jeans and gray T-shirt. My tat is covered by a sweater because Mum hates it. “Do I look like a mafia trophy wife?”