Page 53 of Unrequited
He was in… he was in prison?
“I’m getting married tomorrow,” I whisper, shaking my head, trying to push him out of my mind. “Whatever we had—it was never real. You orchestrated all of it.”
But I’m only whispering what I’ve feared. I want him to prove me wrong.
“Me?” He steps closer, his eyes dark. “You betrayedme.”
“What?” I throw my hands up. “What the hell are you talking about, you idiot?”
He growls, and suddenly I’m on fire.
I thought I was over him. I thought I was free. But he’s here, warm and real, and my heart aches.
“I know you’re getting married. Do you have any fucking idea how hard it is to break out of prison?”
He broke out of prison. For me?
Oh mygod. That’s why he disappeared. Why he didn’tanswer. Why he vanished week after week, month after month.
“Why?” I ask, even though I know it’s pointless. He could’ve done anything, just like my brothers.
“Doesn’t matter,” he growls. “I never left you. I tried to come back. I couldn’t.” He’s standing too close, his hand wrapped around the back of my neck in that possessive way that makes me melt. “And now you’re marrying someone else.”
“Do you think I want this?” I snap. “Do you think Iwantto marry this pompous asshole?”
“Language,” he bites again, hand on my jaw now. I step closer, jab my finger into his chest.
He doesn’t flinch. “Fine. You were arrested. But you still left me,” I say, hating the way my voice breaks. “I told you to come back—and now what? You got out because you found out I was getting married? You couldn’t send me a single message?”
Footsteps again. We freeze. A soft knock.
“Zoya? You okay?” It’s Polina. Sweet, gentle Polina. Rafail’s wife.
“I’m fine,” I call. “Just on the phone. Sorry.”
Lying. Again. Ugh.
“Okay,” she says gently. “Let me know if you need anything. I know how hard this night can be.”
She doesn’t know. She couldn’t.
“Thank you. I’m just going to sleep now.”
They all feel guilty. They know I’m marrying someone I don’t love.
I wait until her footsteps fully retreat before I lower my voice. “Why are you really here, Seamus?” I ask. “You went to prison. Probably deserved it. I’m getting married.” I swallow hard. “Maybe I deserve that too.”
“It was too risky,” he whispers. “Too risky to reach you. I couldn’t.”
“Everything we had…” My eyes are stinging. “What was it, really? Secret meetings in the back of a pub?”
He narrows his gaze. “You think that’s all it was?”
“I know who you are now,” I say. “You work for The Undertaker.”
And the flicker across his face confirms it. I was right.
“He owns all of Dublin. Maybe more. He’s done terrible things, hasn’t he?”
