Page 8 of Shattered Hearts
“You’re blamingmebecause Harper ran out on her own wedding? And how do we know she didn’t get kidnapped, and someone forced her to write that note?”
“We don’t, but I agree it’s out of character for your sister. I’ve put out discrete feelers to that effect. On the other hand,youfor surefucked us three years ago. Bailing us out is the least you can do.”
My eyes bulge. Toxic loathing releases into my bloodstream. “You can’t be serious.”
“Do I look like I’m joking? Today you get to make amends, Riley. The less people who know about your sister’s disappearance, the better.” He jerks his chin toward Harper’s cupcake wedding gown. “Get changed. No one who matters will even know it’s you.”
“Hell no.” Cursing at my father brings on a heady lightness.
His cheeks flush red with anger and his expression turns ugly. I spin on my heel and march toward the door before?—
“If you refuse, any blood shed by innocents will be on your hands, Riley Brennan.”
I freeze yet again, this time with my fingers curled around the doorknob.Like a bear trap clamping down hard on my leg, biting through flesh straight to the bone, my father snares me again.
My father knows I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about saving his. But that doesn’t mean I’m indifferent to the lives of others, ofinnocents, who might get harmed in all of this.
How am I supposed to pull this off though? Harper and I may be identical twins on the outside, but our personalities highlight our stark differences. Even if I were to dress the part, people would sooner call the moonthe sunthan believeIam my effervescent, extroverted sister.
Plus, if I agree, I’m putting myself right back into their hands, albeit temporarily. Something I swore I’d never do again.
I suck in a breath and hold it before exhaling a cloud of stress. “What about Harper’s bridesmaids? I don’t think I’m a good enough actress to fool them right now.” Or ever.
“Already handled. I told them you wanted to wow them with your grand entrance, so they’re getting ready elsewhere.”
Yup. That sounds like something Harper would do. My twin loves to be the center of attention.
I hate this.“I’ll do it. Today only.”
Going against everything inside me in every respect, I drag myself toward Harper’s pristine wedding dress. My father lets himself out without another word.
When the door slides closed behind him, I collapse on the stool in front of the vanity. It takes a full minute of deep breathing before I have the nerve to look myself in the eye.
Shame snakes through me and robs me of my breath. I vowed I would never allow any man, especially mafia men, to use me ever again.
But here I am…breaking every promise I made to myself.
It’s for a good cause,my conscience suggests, but I want to punch my conscience in the face for feeding me that lie.
I peel off my dress and kick off my low heels, wincing at the ice-cold temperature of the stone floors in this old place. Someone left an empty reusable tote bag in here, and Icommandeer it as the hiding place for my clothes, shoes, purse, and cell phone before drifting toward the bridal mannequin.
Climbing into my sister’s monstrous wedding gown—an explosion of lace, tule, ribbons, and bows—I know exactly why I caved and decided to go along with this. Not because I believe that doing this will save anyone.
Because of guilt. Not for screwing over my father and the Gallaghers three years ago or torpedoing their precious expansion plans…but for ever trying to be one of them. It’s the same reason I work at the women’s shelter.
I feel guilty I was ever a part of an organization run by men who perpetrate violence against others in the name of power, money, and greed. I hate that the desperate, lonely part of myself was willing to strive for acceptance, no matter how dirty my hands got. And worst of all? No matter how hard I tried, no matter what lengths I went to please my father, it was never enough.Iwas never enough.
If I’d been like Harper and found myself in a constant shower of praise and approval, I’m not sure I ever would have left. My values only shifted because I didn’t get everything I thought I wanted. That opened my eyes.
And that makes me feel…despicable.
I’ve deluded myself that helping other people in need—whether they know it or not, whether I’m really helping or just spinning my savior-complex wheels—is noble enough to redeem me. Decent enough to erase my past as a daughter of the Irish Mob.
But I’m wrong. I was wrong to agree to this. I’m even more wrong to be going through with it. Coming here today was a mistake, and I knew that from the start. Everything inside me begged me to stay home, but do I ever listen?
In the mirror, I place Harper’s diamond-studded hairband over my hair.
At what point did she decide to throw everything away and run? Did something happen to trigger that decision? Being forced to marry Finn Gallagher, perhaps? Or did they argue? Maybe she fled over a lover’s quarrel.