by Monica James
Worst of all—seeing Rory wrap his arm around a stunned Babydoll cements that she moved on with my fucking friend. And he on to the woman he knew I sacrificed everything for. But no one knows the truth, that Babydoll isn’t my sister. I can’t hate them for living their life.
So why can’t I shift this urge to throttle Rory with my bare hands?
Hannah’s eyes fill with tears, tears for me. But I don’t want her pity.
“Congratulations,” I say, breaking the ice as I raise my glass of champagne in the air.
“Punky—” Rory tries to make amends for betraying me in the worst possible way, but I cut him off, not interested in his excuses.
“To the happy couple.”
Darcy smirks, clinking her glass against mine before we both throw back our drinks.
Babydoll looks like she’s about to pass out, but that’s not my problem anymore. None of this is.
Cheers to new beginnings.
Why is he here?
We didn’t invite him because I wanted to avoid this—this uncomfortable silence. Rory’s arm around me suddenly feels so wrong. I subtly shrug from his hold. He sighs, while Punky looks like he’s about to rip out Rory’s throat.
I can’t do anything right.
When a grin tugs at Darcy’s lips, I realize Punky is here because of her. She knew the scene it would cause. She knew how uncomfortable this would make me feel. She also wanted to reassert her claim over him, but there’s no need.
She’s won.
I’m so thankful she helped him because if it wasn’t for her, Punky would still be behind bars. But there is still some unspoken competition between us which makes no sense. When I “worked” for her family, she always made sure the line was drawn—I was beneath her.
Not that I could ever forget.
And now, ten years later, she still insists on hurting me.
She and Rory were once a thing, and I know he still harbors some sort of affection for her. It doesn’t bother me. I know it should, but it doesn’t, and that’s because I feel the same way about Punky.
Years of therapy have helped me “deal” with my love for him, but seeing him now, I realize I still love him and not how a sister should love her brother.
I’m sick, I know I am, but I can’t help it. I’ve tried so hard to stop feeling this way, but I just can’t. My love for him hasn’t changed, and that’s why I agreed to marry Rory. I thought if I attempted to live a “normal” life, these feelings would eventually fade.
But they haven’t. They’ve only grown.
Looking at him now, I feel complete. Something is always missing when he’s not around, but now, the noise…it’s silenced, and I feel whole again.
My therapist assures me this is normal, but nothing is normal about wanting your half-brother the way I want Punky. Something is very wrong with me.
Ashamed, my walls are erected, and I go on the defensive. “What are you doing here?”
Even I flinch at the harshness of my tone, but he can’t be here. I can’t do this. I can’t pretend Rory is the man I want to marry because Punky is the only person who can see through my lies. He will see how disgusting I am.
Rory makes me happy, and I do love him so much. But with him, I settled. I learned to love him. But he doesn’t give me the butterflies I get with Punky. Even now, just being in his presence robs me of air.
Falling in love with Punky was innate, and I don’t think I’ll ever feel that again.
“He’s my plus-one,” Darcy says smugly.
Punky is deadly quiet. I wonder what he’s thinking.
“Ach, I’m glad I could celebrate this happy occasion with youse,” he says, his gaze never wavering from mine.
He feels betrayed, I’m sure of it.
Before him stand the people he once called his family. But family don’t exclude one another, which is what we did to him.
“Can I speak with ye?” Rory asks, clearing his throat.
He’s avoided Punky, saying he needs time, but I know the real reason is that he wanted to avoid this confrontation. There’s no easy way to approach this. Even though Punky and I can never be, that doesn’t lessen the guilt we feel.
We bonded over our love for Punky, and that bond grew into something more.
Rory makes me happy, and I’m so glad he wants to spend the rest of his life with me. However, there’s always a but lingering, and I don’t know why.
Cian and Punky exchange a strange look. It’s gone a second later.
“Sure,” Punky says.
I step aside to let him pass, unable to face him as he leaves the room with Cian and my fiancé. Once he’s gone, I exhale softly, needing a minute to compose myself.
“I better see to our guests.” I try to conceal my thoughts, but the girls know it’s just an excuse.
As I turn on my heel and leave the room, I hear Hannah call after me. I want to keep walking, but I don’t.
“Are ya all right?” she asks, gently touching my arm.
“I’m fine,” I lie, and she sees straight through me.
“Don’t be pretendin’ that wasn’t weird.”
I shrug in response. “We all knew this wasn’t going to be easy. But I didn’t want him finding out this way,” I confess with a quiver. “I wanted to tell him when the time was right.”
“Was there ever a right time to tell him?” Hannah questions. She’s not having a go at me, but she did suggest we tell Punky before something like this happened.
“I suppose not. Fuck, this is a mess.” I refuse to cry and mess up the hours Amber spent on my makeup. “He won’t forgive me for this.”
Hannah rubs my arm. “Don’t be quick to judge him. He understands ten years is a long time. Ye were right to move on.”
“But with his best friend?”
“Aye, that will come as a shock, but ya can’t help how ye feel.”
If only she knew how I really felt.
“Thanks, Hannah. I should be the one giving you advice, seeing as I’m supposed to be the adult.”
She laughs. “I just want everyone to be happy. And I know Punky is happy if you are. It’ll take some gettin’ used to, but he’ll want the best for youse, and if that’s together, then he will accept it.
“Besides, it looks like Darcy is still keen on him. He could do worse.”
Just the mere mention of her name has me clenching my jaw. “Yes, you’re right. She has been a great support to him.”
I don’t elaborate because Hannah won’t like what I have to say.
“I better get downstairs before people start to talk.”
She reads the blow-off for what it is but doesn’t press.
I conceal my emotions, as I’ve become a master of hiding how I really feel, and put on a smile as I descend the staircase. All the faces are friends I’ve made via Rory because my friends and family are back home.
They promised to attend the wedding, but I don’t expect them to come. Besides, Rory and I haven’t discussed that far ahead. When he proposed six months ago, it came as a huge surprise. We have been seeing one another for about three years—on and off.
Our relationship has been strained because I’ve been coming and going between Belfast and America for ten years. The moment I ran out of money, I’d go back home and work eighteen-plus hours a day at any job that paid so I could save enough money to come back to Belfast.
But when I came back to Northern Ireland this last visit to see my friends and to hopefully see Punky, Rory said he wanted to marry me. I accepted, tired of being alone. Even though my feelings of loneliness never dissipate, they lessen with Rory.
But I had no idea things would happen so fast.
A few days later, Hannah told me she had seen Punky. I couldn’t believe he agreed to see her. I also couldn’t believe it when Hannah said Darcy believed she could help free him. I instantly felt guilty for accepting Rory’s proposal. I felt like I had let Punky down.
I knew I couldn’t be with Punky, but that didn�
��t lessen the guilt.
It still doesn’t.
Looking down at the beautiful diamond ring on my finger, it doesn’t change the fact that I wish I was wearing Punky’s ring.
Swallowing down my disgust, I paint my face with a broad smile, playing the part of the happy fiancée because Rory deserves that. He has been nothing but wonderful and supportive, understanding why I need space, and he still wants to marry me regardless.
One of Rory’s colleagues and his wife make small talk while I attempt to look interested, but I can’t stop thinking about Punky and how seeing him with Darcy angered me more than it should. I should never have come back here. Northern Ireland is filled with nothing but ghosts that continue to haunt me every single day.
My mom and my sister, Eva, are back home in Chicago. It’s hard to believe Eva is almost the same age as me when I first came here. How naïve I was ten years ago. I never thought I’d not only fall in love but that I’d meet my soulmate—in every sense of the word.
When Punky was sent to prison, I received a life sentence too. Of course, our imprisonment was different, but with each day, week, month, and year that he refused to speak to me, the walls of my cell caged me in further. I lost myself because Punky was my true north.
Even knowing what I did with us being related didn’t make a difference. I still loved him. And even though he refused to see me, I never gave up on him. We tried everything to help him, but after exhausting every possible avenue, we accepted that we had failed.
I went to visit him every week. I wrote to him every day for ten years. Some letters I sent. Others were my form of therapy. But not a day went by that I didn’t try. However, he made it clear he wasn’t interested in seeing me when my constant visits were denied.
I don’t know if he got the letters I sent as he never replied.
After months of trying, I had to go back to America to check on my mom and Eva. Brody stuck to his word, and the money he sent saved my mom’s life. The experimental drugs worked. With the extra money, I was able to send Eva to a good school where she got the education she deserved.
Life was the best it had ever been, but it meant nothing knowing what I did to achieve that happiness. Knowing that Punky was rotting away because of my betrayal.
For this reason, once my mom and Eva were settled, I came back here and picked up where I left things. I couldn’t let it go. I couldn’t move on with Punky being where he was. Rory and Cian were trying desperately to help Punky, but he still refused all visitors.
That is when Rory and I grew closer. We both shared the same pain—we missed Punky, and that’s what we bonded over. We found solace in the other as it felt good being with someone who Punky once loved.
I eventually accepted that I may never see Punky again, and that’s when I let Rory in. It was difficult at times; I suppose it still is. But being with Rory is easy. He has a very good job as an IT specialist. He had given up the life of crime because, without Punky, there wasn’t a business to run.
And Brody Doyle, my father, ensured the Davieses and the Walshes knew their reign was over. It was his turn to rule both Belfast and Dublin. Without the Kellys, we had no choice but to start over. Most would say I should be thankful for the fact, but it’s hard to forget someone who has given you so much to remember them by.
I have commuted back and forth between America and Northern Ireland for the past ten years. But when I accepted Rory’s proposal, I knew I would call Northern Ireland my home, and I thought I was okay with that. But now that Punky is out…I don’t know how to feel.
I never finished my performing arts degree because I couldn’t commit to it. I’ve made it my life goal to help set Punky free. Because of this, I don’t have a career like Darcy does. Back home, I work any job that pays.
As I only worked casual jobs, it allowed me to travel between here and America without having to worry about taking time off. I just quit and looked for another job when I went back home.
I shaped my life around Punky because deep down, I didn’t feel deserving to live a full, prosperous life while he wasted away alone. But now that he’s out, I can’t help but look back on the last ten years with regret.
I would have done so many things differently. But I can’t change the past.
“There ya are,” Rory says, wrapping his arm low around my waist.
His colleague and wife stop talking and offer their congratulations to Rory. I feel horrible as I haven’t listened to a word they’ve said.
Another group comes over, kissing our cheeks. Everyone is in good spirits, and I was too until a few minutes ago. Rory has picked up on my mood and politely makes up a lie as to why we have to leave. We walk through the packed room, and each step I take has my impending breakdown hastening.
Rory gently ushers me into the hallway, away from the guests. He hugs me softly. “Are ya all right?”
“Not really,” I confess into his shoulder. “I didn’t want Punky finding out this way. That’s why I wanted to tell—”
But Rory cuts me off. “Ach, I know. I was wrong. I’m sorry. I didn’t think Darcy would bring him here.”
I can’t help but narrow my eyes because I know she did that on purpose. But I don’t let my anger show. “What’s done is done. What did he say?”
I gently pull out of his arms, waiting for him to answer. When he sighs, I know the answer.
“He said he’s happy for us.”
“And,” I coax, knowing there is more.
“And that I’m to treat ya right. Otherwise, he’ll have no issues breakin’ my arm.”
I can’t help but smile.
“I was wrong not to tell him sooner. Can ya forgive me?”
I cup his cheek. “Rory, there’s nothing to forgive.”
“I know the timin’ isn’t great, but we couldn’t put our life on hold. We’ve already spent so much time—”
Now I’m the one to butt in. “I know. You’re right. There’s no need to explain.”
Rory places his hand over mine, his love for me reflecting in his poignant green eyes. He and Punky are opposites. Punky always had the bad-boy image down pat, while Rory was more conservative. I guess that’s why he, Punky, and Cian became best friends—opposites attract.
Rory’s father, Cormac Walsh, comes over, not hiding his distaste for me. Rory assures me he does like me, but we both know he’s lying. I think it’s because he thinks his son is too good for me, and he’s right.
His son deserves someone who isn’t as fucked up as me.
“We’re away to the ballroom. Let’s toast the happy couple.”
Rory nods while I smile, trying my best not to alert Cormac that I’m trembling inside.
Cian, Amber, and Hannah appear, wearing strained smiles on their faces. I know how hard this has been for Cian. He and Punky were always closer than Rory and Punky. I’d hate for him to think he has to pick a side.
Cian has been through so much. When his father took his own life, a part of him died too. We’ve all lost so much, and that’s thanks to the man I refuse to acknowledge as my father.
He may have met his end of the deal, but that doesn’t mean I’m grateful for what he did. He ruined our lives, and for what? For greed. He makes me sick. No wonder my mom wants nothing to do with him. And now that he’s the most powerful man in Ireland and Northern Ireland, he thinks he can buy my love.
I have no idea what he wants.
He has Erin and Liam, children who actually want to know him, but that hasn’t stopped him from sending flowers or texts, expressing his remorse for how things ended between us. He’s delusional if he thinks I’ll ever forgive him for what he did.
Thinking of his other child, Punky, the knot in my stomach only tightens.
Darcy and Punky make their way down the staircase, laughing about something. I hide my jealousy because he’ll never laugh like that with me. We lock eyes before he dismisses me, returning his attention to Darcy, who looks stunning.
They look amazing to
gether. On his arm, she shines.
Punky says something into Cian’s ear. He laughs in response.
He doesn’t seem too upset to find out that I’m marrying his best friend. That’s a good thing, I remind myself. So why do I feel like bursting into tears?
I know the reason—because I don’t feel the same way looking at him and Darcy together. I want to claw out her eyes.
I need to get over this. I need to remember that Punky is my half-brother.
A waiter zips past, but I stop him and grab two glasses of champagne off his silver tray. Rory thinks one glass is for him, but he’s wrong. I throw back both, making a face as the alcohol hits my empty stomach.
“Let’s go,” Rory says, gently kissing my cheek, and when he does, I see something which pleases me immensely—Punky narrows his eyes, eyeballing the fuck out of Rory.
The sight gives me hope that he does care, that this is as weird for him as it is for me.
We know we can never be together the way we once were, but to see his mood sour this way shows me that I still affect him. I don’t know why, but that makes me feel better. I don’t feel like everything we experienced was all in my head.
Rory leads me toward the ballroom with our friends following close behind. I snare another glass of champagne from a waiter as we enter the room.
The moment we do, the room falls quiet before it explodes into joyous clapping. Everyone passes their congratulations onto us as we walk through the crowd, and suddenly, I feel claustrophobic. It’s all too much.
I’m on autopilot, smiling and acting the part of the happy fiancée, but on the inside, I’m moments away from falling apart. Rory doesn’t seem to notice and leads me to the front of the room where his mom and dad stand.
There is an elaborate white cake, feet away, and I suddenly realize, the next cake I’ll see of this size will probably be my wedding cake. Sweat gathers along my brow as I wet my suddenly parched lips.
Our guests wait for us to speak, but Cormac takes the lead. “Thank you for comin’ ’ere tonight to celebrate the engagement of our only son and his beautiful wife-to-be, Camilla.”
The crowd erupts into applause while I try to smile even though I know Cormac is lying.
