Page 59 of Stronger Than Love

“Fuck!” I screamed, staring at the ceiling.

“Yeah,” Callum agreed. “You fucked this one up spectacularly.”

An hour and a half and a bottle of whiskey later, I finally retrieved my phone from my backpack and turned it on. Messages bleeped constantly as I caught up from the past several weeks. I skimmed through most of them, finding the messages from Oonagh. Her voicemails ripped my insides apart until pain pierced through me. Her texts were desperate, begging, then changing tone into angry. One caught my attention, my fingers enlarging the image on the screen.

“Fuck!” I shouted again, my eyes never leaving the screen. They said lightning never struck twice. Fate had obviously decided we were the exception to that rule.

***

I’d officially turned into a stalker in my hunt for Oonagh. Her mother gave me a disapproving glare before shutting the huge wooden front door of their official home in my face. It was as big as I imagined as a child.

Niall continued to be a dick about me and his sister being in a relationship, so I hung up on him, as he obviously had no clue where she was.

For a brief moment, I considered tracking Martin down and beating the shit out of him. It wouldn’t have found Oonagh, but it would have made me feel better.

Michael was back at university when I returned to my office, locking myself inside for most of the day while I caught up on paperwork. I always had my work done for about two months in advance, only adding a few changes that were needed along the way. I was still ahead in most ofmy designs, but only just. I’d need to work day and night for a while to get my workload to where I wanted it to be again.

It was eight in the evening when I finally finished for the day, dragging my ass out of the office. There was no way I was driving to the country at this time of night, so decided to crash at my apartment. My Jeep was parked in my space. Michael must have brought it up, so I left my bike in the overflow parking area.

I’d order pizza later when I had a shower and checked my phone for the millionth time today to see if Oonagh had replied to me. She’d read some of my WhatsApp messages but had yet to reply.

Lights and music echoed from the living room, and the apartment wasn’t cold as if it had been unoccupied for the past six weeks. Michael tended to use it on weekends if he was out partying with his friends, but this was the middle of the week.

Loosening my tie, I stalked down the corridor to confront my wayward brother who’d been avoiding my calls since I got home.

My feet stuck to the floor and my eyes widened at the sight of the woman curled up in a pile of cushions on the L-shaped sofa, wrapped up in one of her many colourful rugs. My emotions ranged between wanting to laugh that she’d been in my home all along, to crying in relief. I’d been hunting for her everywhere, never thinking to check the places closest to me.

I took in the changes she’d made. Canvases hung on the walls depicting our time together during the summer. Central was a selfie I took in Paris of us together smiling, herengagement ring on her finger as she held onto the front of my shirt. Some of the art that had been in my studio was now on the walls in black frames.

In the middle of my fireplace was a massive wooden bowl filled with various crystals. Her words replayed in my mind about her crystal collection:They’re in a box at Mum and Dad’s until I find somewhere of my own, a place I can call home.

Home.

Did Oonagh consider this as home or a place to hide?

My bedroom had been rearranged in my absence, orchids sitting along the window ledge and my standard black bedding replaced with various shades of purple. The en-suite looked like a female cosmetic store had vomited its contents onto my shelves.

Wandering into the kitchen, the postcards I’d put in her gift boxes were stuck to the fridge with ladybird magnets. Bright pink oven mitts adorned the front of the cooker. Pink glasses sat on the drainage board. The fridge was filled with more food than I’d ever seen in it. I popped a dinner in the microwave and returned to watch the sleeping woman from the doorway. The plate in the sink said that Oonagh had already eaten, so I let her sleep.

My bachelor pad had morphed into a family home.

I trailed my fingers through my hair, debating what to do, fear clenching deep in my stomach at her reaction of finding me here.

After dinner, I returned to the living room. Oonagh tended to sleep like the dead, so I carefully lifted her and carried her into bed. She was too peaceful to wake, and I wasexhausted, so I crawled in behind her and tucked her head under my chin.

I lifted her left hand in mine, her ring shining in the darkness. Hope sprung in my chest that she still wore my ring. It made me believe she might just take my worthless ass back if I grovelled enough.

Tonight, I just needed to hold her and reassure myself she was safe and here.

I’d sort the mess that was my life in the morning.

***

Chapter Twenty-Three

Oonagh

My flesh was on fire, perspiration coating my skin. I couldn’t move, a heavy weight holding me in position. Gasping and struggling, I tried to find my way out of the nightmare that had consumed me. The weight lifted from me and I was able to move onto my back. Tingles rippled down my spine and I slowly rolled onto my right side and came face-to-face with Liam.

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