An Irish Affair (Heart 0f Hope Book 2)

by Ajme Williams

  I suppose I should be glad that he saw this thing between us as not something that could develop into a committed relationship. After all, I couldn’t marry him and keep Andrew a secret. He couldn’t marry me and keep me a secret from his mother. On the other hand, I was sad, and yes, a little hurt, that he didn’t think I was marriage material.

  His comments highlighted just how little he knew of the world average people lived in. He had choices in life that most people didn’t have. Money and influence were currencies that bought anything a man wanted, and could make inconveniences go away. After all, his mother had offered me a crapload of money to disappear.

  “I guess you don’t have to worry about it. Men have choices like that,” I said to his comment about having a kid but not being able to commit to it.

  “What do you mean? Women can choose too.”

  “Not always. Not in the case of an unplanned pregnancy. There are many women out there who raise children without fathers because the fathers didn’t want to be bothered with it. Or sometimes they’re just not involved. Mother’s don’t have a choice to be involved or not.”

  “In that situation, I like to think I’d step up. But given the choice to have kids or not, I think I’ll opt out.”

  He’d step up to fatherhood out of duty, but not out of love. Considering that was what his parents were asking him to do by marrying a woman he didn’t love and taking over a business he hadn’t a choice in running, I almost felt like I was giving him a gift by keeping Andrew from him.

  Don’t fool yourself, Serena, my conscience warned. He still has the right to know.

  “I suspect you’re going to want a brood of kids,” he said.

  “I’d like at least one.” I scoffed at myself for my answer.

  “You probably want the whole shebang. Husband. Kids. Home with a picket fence.”

  I sighed. “I suppose in an ideal world, all that would be nice. I totally wanted that for a time, but today, I’m older and wiser. I’ve learned that life doesn’t always turn out the way you plan.”

  He was quiet for a moment and I wondered what I’d said that left him without a response. “Serena?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What happened to you?”

  My hackles rose, feeling offended that he thought something was wrong with me. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, did someone hurt you? I hate the idea that something happened to you to change that free-spiritedness you’d had. I grew up so stifled and meeting you five years ago was like having my first breath of fresh air.”

  Had things been different, his statement would have filled me with warmth. I’d loved that who I was brought life into his drab, ordered world. But things weren’t different. He’d brought me life too, in the form of a son, and I’d always cherish that. But it had been a significant change that meant I couldn’t be a free spirit. I had a child to house and feed. A college tuition to save for. And I had to be present as much as I could, so dating or a personal life just wasn’t in the cards.

  “Just life, Devin. Like I said, responsibilities. Obligations. I can’t afford to be impulsive.”

  “Is that what we were? Impulsive?”

  For reasons I didn’t understand, tears came to my eyes. I supposed I was grieving the two young lovers five years ago. “Yes.”

  “And now?”

  “I don’t know what’s going on now, to be honest.”

  He was quiet again for a moment. “Is it impulsive to feel drawn to a person? I have to sound like a cliché but I’m a fucking moth and you’re the flame. Is that impulsive?”

  “I don’t know about impulsive, but there is danger in getting burned, isn’t there?”

  “Fuck.”

  Neither of us said anything for a time.

  “I’m a selfish bastard.”

  “Oh?” I said, curious about his statement.

  “You and I want different things. If I was an honorable man, I’d wish you luck and let you go. I will if that’s what you want, but I meant what I said. I think of you all the fucking time.” He laughed in a way that made me think he was self-conscious or embarrassed about all he was revealing. “But I don’t want to hurt you and I’m afraid I will.”

  My breath hitched because I knew the truth. I wasn’t the one who’d be hurt. “I feel the same.”

  “That I’ll hurt you?”

  “No. That I’ll hurt you. I already have, and I’m not sure I can stop.”

  “We’re fucked then.”

  I laughed even though I wanted to cry. “It appears so.”

  The line was quiet again and I held my breath feeling like my entire future hinged on the next few things that we said.

  “I guess I should go.”

  I swallowed the lump as I realized this was it. We were going to end it now before anyone got hurt.

  “Okay,” I managed.

  “Okay.” But he didn’t hang up and neither did I. We sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, and yet when he finally said goodbye, felt too fast. As I hung up, I was reminded of the saying about being careful what you wished for. I just got my wish. Devin was giving me up. Andrew would be safe from his mother. Devin wouldn’t be forced to care for a child he didn’t know about or didn’t want. But it was true that wishes could be devastating because in that goodbye, I felt like I’d lost a dream.

  When Devin hung up, I went to bed and cried. It was silly to cry, and yet I couldn’t help it. I felt like everything I’d ever wanted was within my reach and yet a million miles away. And all of it was my fault. Because I was a coward. Because I wasn’t a good enough person, I was hurting him.

  I reached over and picked up my phone from the bedside table and sent him a text. I’m sorry. Then I curled into a ball and tried to get some sleep.

  The next morning I woke to a return text.

  Do you wish it was different?

  At first I wasn’t sure what he meant, but then I decided he was asking if I wished our situation was different. If I wished we were in sync with our goals and lives.

  My initial impulse was to lie or to say something to the effect that wishes didn’t matter, only the reality of our situation. But I felt like I owed him something of the truth. Or maybe I hoped it would lessen my guilt over my actions. Either way, I told him the truth.

  Yes.

  Then I put my phone down and did my morning routine, which for once didn’t perk me up for the day. I got Andrew up and ready, and after taking him to my mother’s, I walked to the subway to head to work.

  When I exited the station outside my building, my phone pinged with a text.

  Do you think we’re capable of creating our own destiny?

  Wow. How could I respond to that? Of course, I knew that we could affect our own futures, but we also were at the mercy of outside forces. The weather. The economy. Our own impulsive behavior that lead to unintended consequences. The last one was the big one in my life. I loved Andrew with all my heart and wouldn’t change a thing about having him. But he wasn’t part of my plan when he was conceived. Because he was the most important thing in my life right now, I couldn’t make plans that could hurt him. So while, yes, I thought I could set my own course in life, I did have boundaries within which I had to navigate.

  Devin’s question seemed to suggest that he thought we could overcome our challenges. The problem was, he thought our only challenge was my job and the fact that we had different ideas about marriage and children. Those were not small issues. I liked my job. I wanted a husband someday. But the real problem was the fact that Devin was a father and didn’t know it. And to a lesser extent, fears around how his mother would treat Andrew. I had no clue how to overcome those challenges, at least not without risking losing Andrew.

  It took me several tries to figure out a response. Finally I messaged back. Within limits.

  I waited outside my work building for a reply, but after a few minutes when one didn’t arrive, I tucked my phone into my purse and headed inside and up to my offi
ce.

  “Roarke St. Pat meeting in my office, ten minutes,” Nikita said as I made my way to my office.

  “I’ll just put my things away and be right there.” In my office, I grabbed my notebook and folder for the event, took my phone from my purse and put it in my pocket, and then put my purse in my desk drawer. As I left my office for the meeting, my phone beeped.

  I stopped in the middle of the hallway and pulled my phone out.

  Can limits be pushed?

  I read and reread his message knowing he was asking if there was any hope. My heart filled with emotion that he was trying so hard to find a way for us. I couldn’t figure out why he still cared after everything I’d put us through. Every fiber of my being ached to tell him that yes, limits could be pushed. That if we both wanted to be together we could, but the reality was when he learned the truth, it would likely destroy whatever feelings he had for me.

  I don’t see how.

  I waited again, but no text came back, so I put my phone in my pocket, fought to keep my emotions in control, and headed into Nikita’s office.

  16

  Devin

  I don’t see how.

  It was nuts how four words could totally ruin my day. But with that text, Serena was telling me that the obstacles that were keeping us apart were too large to overcome. My brain couldn’t accept that though. There had to be a way, although I wasn’t being successful at finding it.

  Obstacle one: Her job didn’t want her having relationships with clients. The answer was for me to stop working with her firm, but odds were they’d fire her for being the cause of my leaving. Maybe I could just threaten to leave if they didn’t make an exception.

  She could leave her job, but she seemed to like it and she might resent me if she left for me. So that was out.

  But even if we could overcome the job issue, there was the difference in life plans. She wanted a home and family, and I wasn't sure I could do that. I loved my family, but we weren’t like other people. I suspected Serena had warm loving parents who supported her life choices, minus the nearly running off with me five years ago. While they wanted her to marry a good man, they probably didn’t care about his breeding or the size of his bank account. In her family, there wasn’t a tie between maintaining the family honor and legacy to the love one received.

  Did my parents love me and Brianna? Yes, in their own way. But their love did have some conditions. I didn’t want to perpetuate that type of life. I didn’t want to force a woman like Serena to conform to our antiquated way of life or raise a child in a way that stifled his dreams

  That afternoon, I met with Brianna to review our plans for the New York club.

  “Do you ever see yourself getting married?” I asked her. She was shallow and couldn’t always be trusted with secrets, but she was the only person I felt I could talk about personal stuff with. Well, Serena too, but since this involved her, and I already had her answer, I had no choice but to seek guidance elsewhere. It didn’t escape me that Brianna hadn’t ever been in a long-term relationship and I wasn’t sure she’d ever been in love, but when it came to confidants, I didn’t have any other choice.

  “Sure. I have this fantasy of marrying a rich guy to make Mom and Dad happy but his money was earned from porn or drugs or something.”

  I smirked. “Does everything you do have to butt up against Mom and Dad?”

  She quirked a brow. “Do I detect a hint of disapproval?”

  “I just wonder how much of what you do is because you truly love it versus doing it simply to bug the parents.”

  “Why can’t it be both? Besides, you’re the one telling them you’re going to change the business and not marry or have kids. That gives Mom a heart attack more than I do.”

  I guess she was right.

  “Why? Are you rethinking marrying Evie?” she asked, as she pulled a glass of water from the mini-fridge in my office.

  “No. That’s not happening.”

  “Someone else then? Perhaps the event planner.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her, wondering how someone who often seemed oblivious could be so observant.

  “What do you have against marriage anyway?” she prodded.

  “I don’t have anything against it. I just don’t like the way our family goes about doing it. About any of it. Our nanny was more nurturing than our mother. All decisions are made based on what will look right to a bunch of uptight conceited rich jerks, not on what makes us happy.”

  Her brows furrowed in thought. “Yes, that’s true. To be honest, I doubt Mom and Dad ever had sex.”

  Jeez. Not what I was going for in this discussion.

  “Too intimate and messy. Instead, I bet Dad jerked off into a cup and they used a surrogate.”

  “Please tell me you don’t think of Dad like that.” I really wondered what made me think I could have a serious conversation with Bri.

  She rolled her eyes. “Not specifically no, but you know what I’m saying?”

  “I do and that’s my point. I don’t want to live like that.”

  She stared at me for a long moment. “Then don’t.”

  “I don’t have a choice—“

  “Of course you do. You’ve already made one by not marrying Evie. If you want to marry for love, do it. If you want to take your kids to the park instead of sending them with a nanny, do it. Mom and Dad don’t have as strong of a hold on you as you think, and yes they’d fuss, but let’s face it, our generation of entitled brats would likely see you as a hero for breaking free of the ridiculous rules that generations before us put in place.”

  Just do what I want? Was it really that easy? Bri was right in that I was already doing that to a certain extent by continuing with the clubs despite my father’s insistence that I stop. I was shucking social constraints by not marrying Evie.

  Within limits.

  That had been Serena’s answer when I asked whether or not we could make our own destinies. She’d not been optimistic about overcoming limits, but who set those limits? Society yes, but I was already pushing against them. So maybe the limits I was having trouble with were those I set in my own head. I thought I’d have to have a marriage and family like the one I grew up in, but Bri was right. I could change that. I could choose a good woman who might be out of my social class, but to my mind was richer in personality and goodness. I could give her children, watching them grow in her belly and then teach them to throw a ball. My money would give them all the opportunities they deserved, but my love and the love of their mother would give them emotional security and confidence. Put in that context, having a family had an appeal.

  “Of course, Mom would likely be mean to any woman you married that didn’t fit the mold, but fuck her, right?”

  Bri’s words brought on a concern I hadn’t been considering, but Serena had. Several times she’d suggested my mother wouldn’t approve of her. It made me wonder if she’d ever met her as she was spot on about that.

  But again, that was a limit I felt I could overcome.

  “Thank you, Bri.”

  She smiled. “You’re welcome. So when are you inviting your event planner to meet the family.”

  I shook my head. “Not yet. But if all goes well, hopefully soon.”

  I was bogged down in the new club project with Bri, the one in Paris, and other work at the business, so I wasn’t able to follow up on my revelations with Serena at that time. On Friday I closed on my new place and on Saturday, I had furniture and other home goods delivered. I had to admit, having money was a Godsend during a move. I ordered what I needed and paid to have it delivered and put away. On Saturday evening, I showed up with my bags of clothes, and once they were hung in the closet, I was moved in.

  On Sunday I finally had time to start wooing Serena again. Because she could be elusive, I decided it would be better to see her in person than try to reach her by phone.

  She’d indicated she was busy over the weekend which I suspected was an event. But when I discreetly researched
what event she was working I was told she wasn’t working at all. Had she just been giving me a line to keep me away? Or had I misunderstood?

  The day was nice and relatively warm for the end of February, so I decided to drive myself to her place. Maybe I could convince her to go for a ride with me. I put the top down in the Cabriolet and headed to her neighborhood.

  The Gods were with me, I thought, as there was a parking spot just a few doors down from her building. At the door, I found two Moores listed. I selected S. Moore hoping it was her apartment. I buzzed and waited, buzzed and waited more. Fuck. She wasn’t home. She really was busy.

  A middle-aged woman came through the door. “Can I help you?”

  “I was looking for Serena Moore.”

  The woman smiled in a way that told me she knew and liked Serena. “It’s such a nice day, she’s probably having a picnic at the park with Andrew.”

  Andrew? Who the fuck was Andrew?

  “What park?” I asked. It was caveman-ish of me, but if I had to fight for her affection, I would.

  “Tompkins Square.” She pointed up the street toward the park.

  I smiled, even though inside I was preparing to battle whoever this Andrew man was. “Thank you.”

  The park wasn’t far so I walked. I entered the park and began my search. Many people were taking advantage of the nice day, so my search was slow as I took in each person. As I approached the playground, I found her. She was sitting on a bench with a notebook in her lap.

  My heart rate sped to a million miles a minute as I took her in. Her dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Her cheeks were flushed probably from the cool air. The yearning for her nearly brought me to my knees.

  “What is it about you?” I said to myself. I didn’t know why I felt how I did, but I knew I wanted to indulge my desire for her.

  I approached her. “Serena?”

  She looked up, and immediately her eyes widened, darted toward the playground and then back at me. I’d expected surprise, but her expression looked more like panic.

  “Devin. What are you doing here?” She swallowed and I noted that her hands shook as she put her notebook in her bag.