Page 29 of Earn Me

"—has any allergies."

"She doesn't." Keiran delivered a vicious kick that sent the bag swinging wildly. "Now leave."

"Perhaps it would be better if you asked her yourself."

Keiran stopped, turning to face the older man. "I'm warning you, old man. Don't interfere."

"You might as well ask me to stop breathing." Onesimus's weathered face remained impassive, but his eyes reflected decades of loyalty—and the earned right to speak truths no one else dared.

"Simus, dammit."

"I was one of the reasons your marriage broke down—"

"She's the only reason our marriage fell apart." Keiran ripped off his gloves, throwing them aside. "Because she didn't trust me."

"You gave me a second chance."

The words landed like a physical blow. Keiran turned away, reaching for a towel. "You were grieving for your wife. That's how you ended up abducted. You had a weakness other people took advantage of—"

"And she doesn't have this? A weakness that her parents didn't take advantage of?"

"It's different." Even to his own ears, the argument sounded weak.

"I accept that," Onesimus said with surprising gentleness. "Because I can be replaced, but there can only be one woman for you—"

"She's not it." Keiran's voice hardened. "She will never be it."

"And yet she is the only woman who has earned a second chance with you."

Keiran laughed, a harsh sound with no humor. "This is me killing two birds with one stone. I have a blood debt to her brother that I swore to repay. And while I'm keeping her safe, I'll take the opportunity to punish her as well."

"Keep saying that, and maybe you'll convince yourself one day." Onesimus stepped further into the room, his usual deference falling away. "You've already made several attempts to humiliate her. And failed. Because she is that determined to win you back."

Keiran tossed the towel aside. "I don't need your psychological analysis."

"No, what you need is to think very hard if this path you are on is worth losing any chance of having a life with her again."

The words hung in the air between them, too close to the truth for Keiran's comfort.

"When did you become such a romantic, old man?"

"When I watched you tear your own heart out three years ago," Onesimus said simply. "And I've been watching you try to live without it ever since."

Keiran had no answer for that.

"Dinner will be ready at seven," Onesimus continued, as if the conversation had been about nothing more significant than the weather. "I told Chef no cilantro. She hates it but never says anything."

The casual observation was like a knife to the ribs. How many little details about Cadence had Keiran collected over their short marriage? How many did he still remember?

The way she sneezed in her sleep. How she looked in his oversized shirts. The cookies she baked at midnight when she couldn't sleep.

"I have a meeting," Keiran said abruptly. "I won't be back until late."

Onesimus nodded, unsurprised. "I'll let Mrs. Quinn know."

"Cadence," Keiran corrected automatically, then scowled at the slip.

Onesimus's smile was knowing. "Of course, sir."

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