Page 86 of The Way Back Home
The ride back to the cabin was subdued. Noah kept the speed low, ever the gentleman, conscious of herrecovery. Bear galloped along beside them, oblivious to the tension.
A short while later, Teagan was climbing into the back of a glossy black SUV while Noah and Bear watched from the porch. Noah had offered to go with her, but she’d declined. His offer had felt hollow. Besides, this was something she had to do on her own.
The SUV was luxurious, and Teagan couldn’t help but wonder how much something like that cost. The driver didn’t speak or attempt conversation, which was fine with her.
Forty-five minutes later, they pulled into the Celtic Goddess—a high-end resort that Teagan had heard of, but would never have dared to step foot in, except as possibly the hired help.
Walking into the gleaming tower was like entering an alternate universe. The lobby boasted polished white marble with gold accents, soft lighting, and an abundance of plants and flowers. Everything screamed money, wealth, and privilege—things that had never been part of Teagan’s world.
The tuxedoed concierge greeted her by name. “This way, Miss McKenna. He’s expecting you.”
The elevator was as posh as the lobby. The mirrored panels emphasized how out of place she was in her jeans, sweater, and well-worn boots. The ride was smooth, the air pleasantly scented. Nothing like the cheap motels she’d stayed in.
Donal’s room wasn’t a room; it was a suite. Plush carpeting, crystal lighting, and decorative arches separated the area into distinct spaces. Teagan stopped justinside the door and glanced around. Urns filled with fresh, vibrant flowers sat upon pedestals. Through the arches, she saw a desk covered in papers and sleek tech.
“Thank you for coming,” Donal said, appearing from yet another set of arches, wearing black dress slacks and a cashmere sweater. “I took the liberty of ordering lunch.”
She swung her gaze toward the dining area, which had been set for two, complete with silver-domed dishes, crystal decanters, gleaming silverware, and linen napkins folded into origami.
Talk about feeling out of place.
“Please,” he coaxed. “Come in and sit down.”
Teagan warred with accepting the invitation and marching right back out the way she had come. Curiosity eventually won out.
She sat at the table with caution, folding her hands in her lap.
“Don’t be nervous, Teagan.”
“I’m not,” she countered. “I’m just afraid to touch anything.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t afford to pay for anything I break.”
Instead of being irritated, he laughed, the sound soft and lilting, breaking some of the tension. “Don’t worry. I can.”
His words weren’t entirely unexpected. The chauffeured ride, the VIP suite, and the elegant spread had been strong context clues, but it was still hard to grasp.
The next several hours passed in a blur. Donal did most of the talking. He spoke of his family—her family—in Ireland and the generations of O’Callaghans that had come before. When he was finished, he asked if she had any questions.
“Would you tell me how you met my mother?”
Donal smiled wistfully. “My father thought it wise to send me to the US to study business and law at Harvard. I was in the last semester of my senior year, and Maggie was working in a café near campus. It was love at first sight—at least for me.”
“What happened?”
Donal sighed. “Life. My father became ill, and I had to return to Ireland. By the time I returned six months later, Maggie was gone. I tried to find her, but I knew nothing of her family or where she might have gone. Eventually, I had to accept that she had moved on, and I had to do the same.” His voice caught at the end, and he cleared his throat.
They sat in silence, giving her a chance to process that. Everything he’d said rang true. The sadness in his tone had been genuine. He really had loved her.
“Did you ever marry?”
“No. I never met another woman who made me feel the way Maggie did. And I swear, Teagan, had I known, I would’ve moved heaven and earth to find you. I would’ve taken you both back to Ireland with me, and your life would have been far different.”
“Yeah, well,” she said, feeling exhausted, “I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.” She stood. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”
“It is your history as much as it is mine.”
