Charlotte was loved and accepted. Persy had been, too, once. She was happy Charlotte had that. “It’s good the people have accepted Charlotte. It must be hard to have a proper job and manage a royal life.”
Sully glanced over. “Having someone beside you who gets you and understands you, that helps.”
Her voice was soft and low, her eyes on her plate. She thought of her ex and how things might be different if he’d been more understanding when she’d needed it most. “Yes, it would. The little princess isn’t with them tonight.”
She hadn’t meant to say the last but thinking of the past automatically brought children to her mind.
He turned back to her. “No. Maybe it was too late for her bedtime.”
Her forehead was furrowed, her lips in a deep frown, and her hands were twisting a cloth napkin in her lap. She was looking down, away from him.
Should she tell him? She wanted to. She wanted someone to know. She didn’t want the little girl—the one only living in her memory—to be forgotten. She wondered if anyone but her remembered her now.
Persy had been drifting for a long time. She’d made a few friends—like Hector and Millie—but hadn’t made a real connection with anyone. Physical connections, sure, but not emotional ones.
Could she open herself up again? People had made it seem like she wasn’t worthy of love after what had happened.
Yet…didn’t everyone deserve to be loved, even her? Could she finally accept that her family, her ex, that everyone had been wrong to treat her as they had?
That maybe…maybe…maybe what happened wasn’t her fault?
Sully reached over to still her hands. “Honey. What is it?”
Her breath hitched as she inhaled, then she blurted out her words on the exhale. “I had a child.”
Oh God. She’d said it! Could she say the rest?
His hand instantly convulsed around hers. “Honey.”
“She died.”
She needed to get the rest out. Needed to tell him now that she’d started.
“Persy—”
“I was married, too.”
His body locked.
“But we got divorced after the baby died.” She took another staggering breath. “It was…sort of my fault the baby died.”
He shifted his chair closer to her and tilted her head so her eyes met his. “Tell me what happened.”
Memories came back in a rush, and there were tears in her eyes, but none of them fell. She held them back by sheer force of will. “Would…” She licked her lips. “Would you hold me for a minute first?”
Without hesitation, he pulled her into his arms and onto his lap. She buried her face against his neck and her arms were tight around his shoulders.
She’d said it. She’d told him—only the third person she’d told since leaving the village—about her baby girl.
About Molly.
He wasn’t pushing her away. He didn’t know everything yet, but he knew the worst and he was holding her close.
It had been such a risk to share it with him. They’d kept each other at a distance, but now…now they were more. This—whatever this was between them—was more.
God, she hoped she hadn’t made a mistake telling him.
It may have been a minute, maybe ten, that they sat there. She didn’t move until heard the soft clank of dishes as the waiter brought out their first course.
She kissed his neck then pulled back. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
“I didn’t mean to blurt it out like that. I meant to ease into it.”
He cupped her face. “Honey, you can tell me however you want to. There’s no need to apologize for it.”
She nodded then slipped from his lap. She missed the warmth of his body, the breadth of his hands on her back, the comfort of another’s arms.
They’d only ever held each other in passion. Though that was always nice, him holding her as he’d just done…it was emotionally the safest she’d felt with a man in years.
In her own seat again, she took a long drink of wine, then sighed at the soup in front of her.
“Do you want to order something else?”
She shook her head and reached for her spoon. She wasn’t sure she could eat, but maybe it would help her tell the rest. “This is fine. I…I’m not sure where to start.”
He gave her a small smile. “Well, you put your spoon in the bowl, scoop up some broth, and eat it. Or you can soak it up with some bread.”
“Right.” She didn’t smile back but she relaxed a little. He was trying to make her more comfortable. It wasn’t working but that didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate the effort.
“Eat. No pressure. Tell me when you’re ready. If you’re not ready for more tonight, you don’t need to share it. No. Pressure.”
She nodded and dipped her spoon into the fragrant broth. He followed her lead and did the same.
It was delicious. Bouillabaisse was a Masillian specialty. She’d had several iterations of it during her time here, but this was by far the best, as the waiter claimed.
Her ex, Tom, hadn’t liked seafood all that much, so she’d rarely cooked it after she’d gotten married.
Oh God. Her mind had wandered back to the past. It seemed the floodgates had been opened, and she had no choice but to swim with the current. Since Tom was on her mind, she decided to start with him.
She moved her spoon absently through the broth. “I got married young.”
He put his spoon down and reached for his wine. “Yeah?”
She nodded. “It was expected of me. For young women, after they finished school—or maybe university, if they were lucky enough to go—they were expected to settle down and marry. I grew up with a guy whose family had a farm on the other side of the village from us. We liked each other well enough, it even felt like love at the time, so we went through with it. I wasn’t ready, but I went through with it.”
More memories of expectation and joy on their wedding day, came flowing in next. It hadn’t been all sad, her time in Ireland. It hadn’t been easy, but it hadn’t been all sad.
She swirled her spoon in a figure-eight in the soup. “The baby came a year or so after the wedding. I was so happy when she was born. I was too young for that, too, but I adored her.”
Molly’s gummy smile shone brightly in her mind, then distorted into an image from that fateful night.
Oh God. Could she say it?
Say it! “It…it was SIDS—Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. At least, that’s what they told me.”
Oh God, she’d said it. He was the first person she’d told. Even Hector and Millie didn’t know that detail.
His voice was gentle, so, so gentle. “Honey, SIDS isn’t anyone’s fault.”
Not according to everyone else. Everyone blamed her. It must have been her fault, at least partly.
Wasn’t it?
Her spoon clanked in the bowl and her voice was suddenly passionate. “But I was her mother. I should have known when it happened or sensed it. I should’ve…If only I’d…” She shook her head.
If only.
If only.
If only.
If, if, if.
Hadn’t she run through a million ‘ifs’ in her head and her heart?
“Honey, this was not your fault.”
“I know.” She said it automatically, as she’d been doing for years.
“Honey, look at me.”
She couldn’t. Not yet.
He gripped her hand firmly and used the other to cup her cheek, forcing her eyes to meet his. “This was not your fault. I’m going to keep saying it until you believe it.”
Staring into his deep brown eyes, she wondered again if maybe that was the truth. Back then, she’d heard from everyone who’d mattered—her parents, her ex—that it had been her fault. Now, perhaps, she was finally starting to accept the truth that it wasn’t her fault at all.
It wasn’t anybody’s fault.
It just�
��was.
Sully had been on police calls before where someone had died peacefully in the night, and he’d had to visit the house and question spouses and loved ones. They’d all been elderly; none of them had been children. He’d done his best to comfort the families.
Now, however, years of training seemed useless and he struggled to find the words. He thought of his nephews, thought of how he’d feel if one them died suddenly. His heart nearly broke in two at just the thought of it. He couldn’t even imagine how Persy must be feeling as a mother who’d lost her child.
She hadn’t said the baby’s name yet. Would it help her or hurt her to say it? “Will you tell me her name, honey?”
“I—” She shook her head. “I can’t say it. Not here. I haven’t said it in years.”
Years? What had she been going through? And why was she going through it alone? “All right.”
“I…I’m struggling to hold on right now. Can you talk for a while?”
“Of course.” First, however, he leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss of comfort to her lips.
He wanted to know more. He wanted to know everything. Who was her ex-husband? How did she end up in Valleria? Why did she really blame herself?
He shook his head. This night wasn’t about what he wanted, it was about what she needed, and he’d do his damnedest to give it to her. “Should I tell you about my family? Or stay away from family?”
“No. No, I’d like to learn about your family.”
He gave her a long look, assessing whether or not she really meant it. Satisfied, he squeezed her hand once more, caressed her cheek, and let go. “I grew up in Dublin.”
She cleared her throat. “Oh?”
He started dipping bread into his broth. His stomach felt raw, but he thought if he tried to eat, she might try, too. “I have two younger sisters—Lucy and May—and my ma. My da died early on—heart attack when we were little. My ma worked as a doctor’s secretary after that to pay the bills and I helped out raising my sisters.” He put a bite in his mouth. Though the bread had obviously soaked up the succulent flavor, at that moment he tasted nothing at all.
“Are they still in Dublin?”
He swallowed. “Yes. May’s married and has two boys.” He watched her while he said it, just in case the mention of little ones triggered something, but she didn’t seem to be any worse. Still shaky, but not worse than that. “My youngest sister, Lucy, is at university.”
“What degree is she aiming for?”
“She’s still deciding, but she’s leaning towards library science. She’s always been a bookworm. I imagine working in a library would suit her, but there’s not a lot of jobs for that. I’ve been telling her to pick up another degree in business, as then she could manage a bookshop or open her own.”
“When does she need to decide?”
“Fairly soon if she wants to graduate on time. None of us are pushing her, though. She was only a couple years old when our da died, and we all tend to spoil her a little.” He watched her again, but she was still the same, perhaps a little calmer.
“You don’t have to keep checking on me.”
He jerked a little, startled. “What?”
She sighed and pushed the barely-touched bowl away. “You keep looking at me whenever you mention something involving death or children. I’m not going to break down.”
“First, if you break down—and I’m not saying you will, or that I expect you to—there’s nothing wrong with that. Second, if you do, I’ll be here to help you. So, I’m not worried about that, either.”
At her raised eyebrows, he amended, “Okay, not entirely worried about that. I care about you, Persy. I want to protect you. I don’t want to say anything to hurt you, but I am sorry if my checking on you is bothering you. What can I do to make you feel better?”
“Do you still find me sexy?” she blurted out.
His body jerked again. “Pardon?”
“My body. Do you still want it?”
“Is this a trick question?”
“No.”
He wasn’t entirely sure about that, but decided to answer honestly. “I find you sexy as hell. Of course, I still want your body.”
“Even though I’ve had a baby?”
The light bulb came on in his head. “Having had a child does not make you less attractive to me. Knowing some of what you’ve been through, honey, I can’t even imagine it. However, we need to have a conversation if you think knowing that—or anything else you want to share with me—would make me want you less. If anything, I want you more.”
She sucked in a breath. “Really?”
“Really, honey.”
Their waiter walked up. “Ready for the next course?”
“Persy?”
“Yes, please. Thank you.”
The waiter nodded, then returned with a large fish on a platter and Persy served them both. She seemed to need something to keep her busy, so he didn’t intervene like he usually would have; at home, he’d been the one to serve the food since his ma was usually working late, and the habit had stuck.
Persy picked at her food but eventually loaded up a fork; a good sign. “Tell me about your mom.”
He sipped his wine, waiting until she started eating to speak. “She retired just last year, and that’s only because she’s had some health issues recently. Nothing serious, she’s just getting older. My sister also told her she needed some help with the kids. Since Ma’s free during the day, she can help and does. It worked out. All of us kids pitch in and help when she needs it.”
“How did she take your coming here?”
He took a bite of food and swallowed. “She wasn’t happy but she understood how much of an honor it was to be chosen. I haven’t been back since I left, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to visit. I have vacation days, but I need to stay in Valleria in case I’m needed. It’s sort of like being on call constantly.”
“How did it happen? I’ve never heard of Garda being loaned out to different countries.”
“It’s not rare. Usually, you’d be lent out to a different organization in your own country—maybe intelligence or military, something like that. Occasionally, country swaps do happen. I think this one happened because of Prince Marcello.”
Her eyes flitted back to the royals table. “He’s not here tonight. I’ve seen him in the Seashell, though.”
“As have I. He’s a prince, but he’s also Valleria’s Minister of Security and Defense. He’s beefing up the Royal Protection Service and other intelligence agencies, and he’s promoting Vallerian police to do it.”
He wondered if he should mention his job opportunity…not yet. Tonight was about her. “Promoting local police means there are gaps to be filled, and he’s requested cops from various countries in these sort of liaison positions. England was one, not surprising considering that’s where his wife’s from. America, Italy, France, and Ireland were others. The cops who have come, we’re all scattered around; I happened to be assigned in Masillia, though they’d originally thought I’d be needed in Valentia,” he said, referencing Valleria’s capital city, where the Royal Palace was located.
“You don’t have much longer left, do you? You’ll be going back to Ireland soon?”
“I’m not sure.”
She frowned and put down her fork. “What does that mean?”
He wished he knew. Every five minutes he debated his options again.
He shoved aside his worries and focused on making her feel safe. “For right now, all you need to know is that I care for you. Whether I stay or go, that won’t change. You can trust me to handle you with care. I’m not disappearing tomorrow, or next week, or next month. I’m here now.”
She rubbed her lips together. “I just shared a lot with you.”
Where was she going with this? “Yes, you did.”
“I did that knowing you might be leaving Valleria.”
“Okay.”
“I…”
“Yes?”
She
stayed silent for a few moments, then blurted out, “I’m never going back there. I’m never living in Ireland again.”
Holy Christ. He wasn’t sure if that was grief or reason talking. “You sound pretty sure of that.”
“I am.”
So, she’d never live in Ireland and he may be going back. That didn’t bode well for a future relationship.
Sex aside, tonight was the first night they’d really learned about each other. Knowing the kind of woman she was, she wouldn’t have shared as she did if she didn’t trust him on some level, even if she thought he might be leaving the country—and her, as well.
She pushed away her plate. “We don’t need to think about that now, but we do need to think about it.”
That they did. For now, though, he’d worry about the fact she’d hardly eaten anything. “All right. We can talk about that later. Do you want to go somewhere else? Grab some dessert or coffee, or something else to eat?”
“No, I—this was wonderful, really. I’ve been in Masillia long enough to know this was excellent. I’m just not very hungry.”
He wanted to ask how she found her way to Masillia, and how long she’d been here, but decided it could wait. She was slumped slightly in her chair, her eyes sad and defeated. He didn’t like that look, and decided she needed some more looking after. “Do you want me to take you home? Or do you want to come back to my place?” No way was she sleeping alone after sharing all that. He was going to look after her tonight, too.
She blinked and sat up. “I thought you said we wouldn’t, um, you know.”
His lips tipped up. “I said we wouldn’t have sex. I never said we wouldn’t sleep together.”
“But we’ve never done that.”
He leaned forward and tipped up her chin. “First time for everything.” He gave her a quick kiss, then signaled for the waiter.
Ripple_Persy & Sully Page 8
