by Maura Rose
“Well… yes, but I hadn’t just lost my wife or my mother.”
Patrick didn’t deserve her loyalty. Not after he’d broken her heart and her trust so many times, standing her up on dates so that he could go street racing or some life-threatening nonsense like that. Going off to do a robbery—usually without permission from his father—and not telling her until afterwards. Forgetting anniversaries and taking her out to clubs with his friends only to ignore her to chat with them.
They’d both been young and foolish, of course. All young people were, she wasn’t saying that she’d expected him to be insanely mature or anything, and she certainly could’ve handled some things better. But that wasn’t any excuse for what he’d done, to her or to his family, and the first thing she’d do if she ever saw him again was punch him right in the face.
The doorbell rang.
Siobhan sighed. “I’ll get it. Kate probably forgot her key again.” Their youngest sister was rather scatterbrained about anything that didn’t have to do with dancing.
Sinead put a cover over the bread to let it rest before she put it in the oven. Maybe Siobhan was right. She could look on Etsy or other entrepreneurial sites, see if there was something that sparked passion in her. There were bloggers who made money, perhaps she could run a sort of Martha Stewart-esque blog giving advice, except for women who actually were on a budget and didn’t have large fancy homes in Connecticut.
And she should really go out more, instead of staying home all the time. Go to clubs and such, maybe join a dating site. There had to still be decent men out there, right?
She heard the front door open, heard people talking—sounded like a man at the door, could it be Dad home early? Connor O’Leary was the most trusted lieutenant of the Donaghue family and he often had to work long hours but if Sean and Seamus were holed up with Patrick hashing out whatever the reason was he’d come back, perhaps Dad had been dismissed for the day.
“Um… Sinead?” Siobhan called.
That sounded worrisome. Fear snuck into her chest like an icy breeze.
There hadn’t been a war or anything dangerous with the Donaghue family since she was just a small child, but the threat of it was never too far away. It was easy to forget, of course. You got used to it being a possibility and it became something that happened to other families, other people.
But what if…
She hurried out of the kitchen and into the hallway, towards the front door, and froze.
Patrick Donaghue smiled nervously. He looked—well, he looked good, she couldn’t deny that. He had the dark black hair and the bright blue eyes of the rest of his family, with a strong jaw and a bit of stubble and defined muscles. He’d filled out a little, bulked up, and she hated how it made her stomach flutter and melt a little.
“Hey, Sinead,” he said.
Siobhan raised an eyebrow, clearly interested in whatever was going to happen next.
Well, Sinead had made a promise to herself.
She walked right up to the man who’d been her boyfriend since childhood, the one who’d broken her stupid busted heart, the one she’d promised she would never want to see again—
And she punched him right in the face.
Chapter Three
Sinead O’Leary could pack a real punch.
“Who’d you pick a fight with?” Sean asked when Patrick showed back up at Father’s house with a bloody nose.
“Sinead,” he replied.
Sean just about busted a gut laughing, because Sean had no sympathy whatsoever.
Over the next few days Patrick tried to at least get the chance to see her and talk with her, but no dice. Sinead wanted nothing to do with him and she was deploying her two younger sisters to greet him at the door and blatantly lie about Sinead not being home.
As if he couldn’t smell her freshly baked bread and hear her humming from the kitchen.
He couldn’t say that he’d thought a second chance from her would be easy. But he’d thought it would at least be a little easier than this. He’d thought she would at least let him talk with her and apologize. Sinead was an even-tempered girl, sweet, very traditional. Her whole family was traditional and strict, so no wonder O’Leary and Father got along so well. So this was completely out of the blue.
Honestly, he hadn’t even known that Sinead was capable of throwing a punch. Not that she couldn’t—O’Leary had to have taught his girls how to defend themselves and he’d seen his wife with a rolling pin, the woman was nothing short of deadly—but that she just wouldn’t. Sinead always had a kind word for people, she was gentle, nurturing, she was the most forgiving person he knew.
Guess even the most forgiving person had their limits.
“You have to respect her,” Bridget said when she heard the news. Patrick liked Bridget. She didn’t seem all that fond of him, which was understandable seeing how he’d treated her husband, but she was amused by him and she let him hang out with her while Sean and Father still debated over what the hell they were going to do with him. “She knows when she’s been used too many times. And she’s sticking to her guns.”
“It’s not that I don’t respect her,” Patrick replied. “It’s that I just wish she’d give me a chance to make things right.”
“Is that why you’re here?” Bridget asked. “To make things right?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’d learn something you Donaghue men seem to have precious little of.”
“And what’s that?”
“Patience.”
…damn it.
So he was patient, or at least trying to be. He didn’t want to be a stalker or to put too much pressure on, so he tried not to stop by the apartment. He did ask her father if he could deliver an apology letter, so that she could at least read it.
O’Leary gave him a look like he’d rather be asked to swim in dog shit. “Why not?” Patrick asked.
“Because between annoying you and upsetting my daughter, I know which will allow me to wake up alive tomorrow morning.”
Patrick was completely at a loss. He’d been in love with Sinead all his life and that hadn’t ever changed, although he’d had plenty of flings during his time away from the family. Flings, though, sex and all that, that wasn’t love. That was a momentary rush. He’d only ever wanted to be with Sinead.
He probably should’ve realized this before he’d abandoned her and took her for granted and all that. But he was older, wiser, ready to try now.
Sean set him up in one childhood bedroom in Father’s house. Father was able to get up and walk around after a few days—apparently he’d been in bed after surgery for his liver problems. He’d be up and fine for the rest of his life, which the doctors predicted would be at least another ten years, so long as he ate healthy and kept up his medicine.
Bridget, it seemed, was taking no chances and was very firm in her stance that her father-in-law would get better. They were over for dinner almost every night, and that meant that Patrick saw a lot of his brother—whether Sean wanted it or not.
That was how Sean found him moping in the living room while trying to figure out if sending Sinead flowers would be too much and too cliché. He hated being cliché. There were ways to show a girl you cared without sending goddamn roses, for crying out loud.
“Hiding out in here?” Sean said. The disdain in his tone was clear.
Patrick rolled his eyes. “I’m not hiding out, just trying to stay out of your way, O King.”
“Watch your tone.”
“Maybe you should watch yours,” Patrick countered. “I get that you’re angry with me and I understand why, but you don’t have to rub it in every chance you get. You’re the good son, you stayed behind, you’re in charge of the family now, fantastic.”
“You say that like it was easy for me. Like I didn’t struggle.”
“I get that you did, Sean, I’m just asking for you to lay off the condescension for two minutes, all right?”
Sean walked over and peered at Patri
ck’s phone. “Who are you thinking of ordering flowers for?”
“Take a guess.”
“Sinead?” Sean whistled under his breath. “You actually are serious about winning her back over.”
“Of course I’m serious. I want to marry her. I always have.”
“Mmm, including the time you nearly died in a street race and didn’t tell her? Or the time you robbed a bodega and didn’t tell anyone at all, not even Father, until long after the fact…”
“Yeah, I get it, I messed up. But I’m back now. I’m going to make things right.”
Sean thought for a moment, then sat down on the couch. “Pat, I’m gonna level with you here. Wanting to make things up to her? That’s great. But you have to be prepared for her to say no and you have to be prepared to walk away and leave her be if that’s what she wants. You owe her an apology or ten, sure, but… man, you and I both know she doesn’t owe you forgiveness.”
Patrick mulled that over. “Bridget’s made you halfway smart.”
“Ha, ha, ha.”
“Look, um…” Patrick cleared his throat, setting the phone aside. “What I’m about to tell you isn’t for pity, okay? I don’t want any goddamn pats on the back.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“The last few years… I didn’t know what I was doing, leaving town. I had no money, no plan, nothing. You know Father never spoiled us exactly, so I didn’t think I had a real privileged life until I got out on my own and I saw… god, you wouldn’t believe half of the shit I saw. I slept under bridges and in doorways sometimes. I worked everywhere, in factories and on farms and road crews. It really opened my eyes. Half the time I was starving and cold. And I was always alone.”
“You could’ve called us. Nothing but postcards, how do you think Father felt with that, huh?”
“I know, I know, but I felt like I couldn’t. I’d made a stand leaving when Mother died, I said a lot of shit about you two and how awful you were and I felt like if… I was just proud and stubborn.”
“Bridget would tell me I’m not allowed to get mad at you for that since I’m just as stubborn.”
“You two must have some crazy fights.”
“Sometimes. But mostly it’s just bickering and we solve it quickly. And when we do fight…” Sean grinned.
“Okay, okay, I don’t need to hear about your makeup sex.” Patrick grimaced. “I just wanted you to know that I saw some shit while I was out there alone, and it took me a while to get over myself and come back but… I missed you, you and Father, and I want to be a better person for you, for the family. Nobody let me get away with anything out there. I got the shit kicked out of me a few times and I damn well earned it. Every penny I had, I earned. So when I say that I’m different and I want to do better… now you know where that’s coming from.”
Sean nodded. “Yeah, well. I’m not saying suddenly everything’s all right. But I get that—y’know when Mother died, people cope with grief in different ways and that was how you coped with it and it is what it is. It’ll take me a while to completely trust you but… I can see that you mean it when you say you’ve changed.”
“…Bridget put you up to say this, didn’t she.”
“She’s been encouraging me,” Sean replied with a wry smile. “I would tell Sinead about that. Don’t tell her about how much you love her or want her back. Tell her what you’ve been through, and I think that will have more of an effect. If nothing else, I think it’ll get her to talk to you.”
“O’Leary won’t deliver the letter for me.”
“Smart man. I’ll ask Bridget to do it.”
Sean stood up, patting him on the shoulder and then exiting the room. Patrick stared after him.
A civil conversation with his brother. He never thought he’d see the day.
Chapter Four
Sinead had absolutely no interest in whatever letter Patrick wanted to give her. Even if it was the delivered by the wife of her father’s boss.
“I appreciate you coming over here,” she told Bridget Donaghue, passing her a cup of tea as Bridget sat at the kitchen table, “but I don’t want anything to do with Patrick. It’s nothing against you, of course, ma’am, or against Sean or Mr. Donaghue. But Patrick’s got no right to be coming back into my life after all that he did, and then running away without a word to me when his mother passed. He didn’t even leave me a note.”
“I understand,” Bridget replied. Her Irish brogue was charming. Her whole face was charming, and Sinead could see why the elder Donaghue brother had fallen so madly in love with her so quickly. “Trust me, he hurt the man I love, deeply. More deeply than Sean wanted to admit to me for a long time. He’s keen to brush off his brother but that’s just because he felt he was abandoned by the one person who could understand his grief. And Patrick betrayed Sean’s trust just as much as he did yours throughout the years. So I’m not a huge fan of his.
“But he seems to really understand what he did wrong and is trying. He’s letting Sean and Seamus handle everything and he’s not butting in, just waiting for whatever job they’ll give him. He’s respectful—well. As much as a Donaghue boy can be.”
Sinead chuckled at that in spite of herself.
Bridget pushed the letter over to her. “You don’t have to forgive him or spend any time with him. But I think it’s only fair that you see what he has to say, and then you can go back to ignoring him as much as you please.”
Sinead took the letter gingerly. “Do you know what’s in it?”
“No.” Bridget shrugged. “I’m not a matchmaker and it’s not my business. I’m delivering this as a favor, that’s all.”
Sinead looked at the letter in her hands, simply addressed in a creamy envelope with her name on it.
Well, there was no real harm in reading it, she supposed. It wasn’t like it could possibly make her even angrier. She didn’t have to respond or anything, after all. She just had to read it.
“All right,” she replied. “But this doesn’t mean I’m going to actually give him a chance or anything.”
“Of course not,” Bridget replied. “I don’t know him, so I can’t vouch for him one way or another. I’m just the messenger.” She finished her tea and stood up.
“Y’know, once upon a time, he would’ve tried to steal you from Sean. He was always doing that, I think because he wanted to one-up Sean since Sean was the older brother, the heir.”
Bridget gave her a wicked grin. “I’d like to see him try and do that. Sean and I didn’t get along at first, neither of us was happy in our lives and we took it out on each other. But I’d like to see anyone try and take him from me now.”
Sinead found herself smiling. Well. Looked like there was at least one sensible person in the Donaghue family now.
After Bridget left, Sinead took the letter upstairs to her room. She didn’t want her sisters or, god forbid, her parents to see this. She was feeling embarrassed enough just reading it herself.
Just seeing Patrick the other day had made her almost melt. She hadn’t been with anyone since him and if she was being honest with herself… she hadn’t wanted to. There were dating sites and apps and even matchmaking services if she was really determined, but she didn’t want any of that. Patrick had brought out a fun, playful side of her, a relaxed side of her, a side that she missed. She’d felt safe with him, like he had a plan so she didn’t have to.
But she wasn’t going to take him back just because of any ridiculous feelings she still might hold. It was stupid of her to be so soft on him after all this time with no word and after he’d treated her so badly. She was going to be ruled by her head, not her heart.
She curled up on her bed, opening the letter. She could still recognize his handwriting in an instant, even if she hadn’t been told that the letter was from him. Patrick had the same looping scrawl, a leftover from his mother’s attempt to teach him cursive, that he’d had all his life.
Sinead,
I know that I hurt you. I was foolish and irresponsi
ble and there’s really no excuse for it. I didn’t know how to recognize the good things I had when they were in front of me, like my father and my brother, and you.
You were the best part of my life. You and my mother. You stood by me no matter what. And I was stupid and young and didn’t know how to appreciate that. I took you for granted. And then I left you when I knew you were depending on me. When you’d told me that I was your future and I’d agreed to that. Maybe we were too young to make that kind of promise but we made it and I broke it, and I’m so sorry for hurting you like that.
When I went out on my own I realized what a poor little rich boy I was. I had to learn what life was really like. I had nothing and no one and I’m glad for it even if it was shit at the time. Because now I’m the kind of person who knows good things when he sees them, like you.
I hope that you can forgive me and give me a second chance. Technically, I think it’ll be what, my twentieth chance? And I know that the guy I was before didn’t deserve another chance but I’m not him. He feels like a completely different person to me.
So I’d like to come to you and start over. I was thinking that we could go to the fairground we always went before—I’d win you carnival prizes and we’d eat too much cotton candy and go on the Ferris wheel. I’ll be there tonight at six, waiting at our bench. I’m sure you remember the one.
If you don’t show up then I’ll take it as a no and I won’t bother you again. But I’d like the chance to show you just how far I’ve come. I’m ready to appreciate you the way that you deserve.
Love,
Trick
That had been her nickname for him back in the day. Everyone else called him Patrick or Pat, but she’d called him Trick because it was not only the second half of his name but it had described him. He was a trickster, charming and always able to spin things in his favor, able to do whatever he wanted and get away with it.
She wouldn’t have thought he’d remember.
Nostalgia flooded her and she set the letter down. It wasn’t what she’d expected. No excuses or explanations. Just an apology, a straightforward apology.