Page 14 of Shattered Hearts
Though I try to compose myself, sitting this close to him knocks loose memory after memory, things I haven’t thought about in years. It’s like all the tiny reasons I used to be crazy about him rain down from the sky.
My mind roams back to those few weeks before Finn got married the first time.
He was always a serious kind of guy, but when I was younger, I could count on him to spare a smile or kind word for me whenever we crossed paths at the Gallagher estate. I remember telling him a joke once and reveling in the sound of his husky laugh.
As a scrawny teenager, my starry-eyed infatuation was probably hard for him to miss, but he never poked fun at me or made me feel foolish.
When he and his first wife got engaged, he smiled a lot more though. His eyes lit up, like sunshine reaching through water.
Despite my crushed teenage heart, I was grateful Finn found happiness with someone. Someone who lit him up inside and out, the way I wished I could. After many pathetic, tearful nights, I put my infatuation and any associated dreams to bed.
By the time I heard the news of his wife’s death, I was dating my ex.
I remember my shock when I first saw him after the tragedy. The darkness…the debilitatinggriefhanging over him gutted me. With his wife’s death, the light inside him snuffed out, and there was nothing I could do. Finn and I weren’t part of each others’ lives, separated by our ages and disparate positions within the Gallagher family.
And even though we’re currently together in a limousine, nothing has changed.
Except that, in addition to his lack of interest in me, I also have to contend with the knowledge that, after going through such horrible heartbreak, the person Finn decided could make him happy for the rest of his days is the same girl who’s bested me my entire life.
Harper wins, even when she’s not here to compete.
I’m just a knock-off wearing my sister’s dress.
“I’ll talk to my dad and see if we can make some quiet inquiries and put a few key people on alert. I’m concerned. Her behavior is out of character.”
“Agreed.”
Finn remains immersed in his thoughts for the rest of the ride. Our limo traverses Manhattan streets, transporting us to the Michaelson, a special events venue on the Upper East Side that was a jazz club once upon a time. Harper’s dreamed of having her wedding reception at this place since high school. The building fell out of a storybook.
What a shame she’s going to miss it.
The limousine bobbles to a stop at a special entrance to the venue. My father stands on the curb, ready to receive us.
He wrenches open the door and raises an eyebrow at the discarded wedding clothes strewn on the limousine floor. Maybe in some distorted way, we resemble newlyweds who couldn’t wait and keep their hands to themselves until the honeymoon.
The painful jokes keep coming.
“Get inside.” A muscle works in my father’s jaw. “I need to speak to both of you.”
In a back room, away from an elegantly decorated reception hall where wedding guests have begun to arrive, my father “levels” with us. Meaning he hasn’t heard anything about Harper’s whereabouts, and per Shane’s orders, Finn and I are to keep our mouths shut about my identity, even to Cian, Rory, and Darren. What’s going to happen after tonight and how Finn’s going to tell his friends he lied to them is beyond me.
I just have to survive this farce a little bit longer.
Finn and my father leave the room so I can get changed, and anxiety sweeps over me.
“I hate this.” The words slip out without warning, like the smallest, most innocent part of myself has borrowed my mouth to voice the pain I’ve been ignoring all day.
In the privacy of this suite, I just let go. The tears waterfall from my eyes. My shoulders jerk as sobs rip out of my chest. I didn’t realize how much I dreaded doing this until right now. How deep can I plunge a knife into my own heart?
Hiding under a veil and stumbling through the I-Dos was child’s play compared to this.
I can’t take this. Letting my father manipulate and use me again.
For one minute, for one hour or four…it doesn’t matter.
Now I’m hyperventilating, my mind sliding back to that awful moment when I found out he sold me…sold me. Like a slave. Like a piece of property he had no use for. Traded me formoney, for the wealth and expansion of the criminal enterprise he serves.
I became an object to him the second I was born. Whether I did everything in my power to please him, whether I estranged myself from him and the rest of his world, his regard for me would never change.