Forever Mine: Callaghan Brothers, Book 9(32)
Her face was paler than it had been, her eyes puffy and red-rimmed from crying. Jack forgot all about who was right and who was wrong; he cared only to see her smile again. He went to her, wanting to crush her into his chest and make everything better, but she wrapped her arms around her body and took a step back in a clear message.
She hadn’t completely forgiven him. His hands fell downward; he tucked them into his pockets. “I’m sorry, Kathleen.”
“I’m sorry, too, Jack.” Still hugging herself, she took a few tentative steps past him into the bar room and stopped, looking around. Her lips pressed together, turning slightly downward at the corners, her expression grim. He knew what she saw—– the same shite condition of the place that he’d seen when Danny Finnegan first proposed the idea. Except it looked even worse now in the stark light of day.
“Maybe you can get the money back,” she suggested quietly. “Tell him you changed your mind.”
“But I haven’t changed my mind, Kathleen. I know it doesn’t look like much right now, but it will.”
She shook her head, the sadness in her eyes like a knife to his chest. “I don’t want this, Jack.”
Jack flinched as if slapped. With only a few words, she had managed to completely destroy the little bit of hope he’d been clinging on to. “What do you want, Kathleen?” he snapped. “Do you want to be married to a bartender for the rest of your life? No, wait. I wouldn’t even have that, because this place was going to be closed down.”
Her eyes widened, but she refused to back down. “You could do something else.”
“Like what? Work in the mill? The hardware store? Or maybe your father would be willing to hire me as a dishwasher?”
Kathleen winced. “There must be something you can do. Didn’t they give you some kind of job training in the service?”
Jack barked out a laugh. “Yeah, they sure did. They trained me to kill, Kathleen. A thousand different ways to end another man’s life. And I learned to do it well. Most of them never even saw it coming. How’s that for a marketable job skill?”
Her lip was trembling again. “Stop it, Jack.”
He exhaled heavily, running his fingers through his hair. “It’s the truth, Kathleen. Not speaking of it doesn’t make it go away, no matter how much I wish otherwise.”
His words hung heavily in the air. Was she only just realizing what she had bound herself to? Or did she still hold to some ridiculous romanticized ideal of a war hero? There was no honor in the war he’d fought, except in the hearts of the men who believed they were doing the right thing.
“What about starting a family?” she said finally, her hand reflexively moving down to span her belly. “Do you really think this is the place to raise children?”
“It could be,” he said, his gaze following the movement. A family, yes. He wanted a big family. Lots of kids filling their lives with joy and laughter. Braw, strapping lads and beautiful lasses that had their mother’s hair and emerald eyes. With any luck, they’d planted the seeds of that dream last night.
“There’s plenty of room on the upper floors, and the kitchen is big enough for an army. It will be a respectable place, too, once we clean it up. A nice place.”
For a moment he thought he saw it—– the light of possibility shining in her expression—– but it was fleeting, gone before he could be certain. She shook her head again and bit her bottom lip. “Is this what our marriage is going to be like? You make the decisions and I’m simply expected to follow along blindly?”
“Of course not.” She was missing the point entirely.
“Seven years, Jack. Seven years I’ve waited for you. And in all that time, I have been a thinking, functional adult. I’ve held down a job, I’ve attended night school and earned a degree. Living day to day, sometimes minute to minute, never knowing if you were alive or dead; wondering if you would ever come back to me.” Tears streamed down her face, unchecked. “You should have talked to me.”
“Kathleen, please,” he said, rising from the stool to go to her, but she held up her hand in a ‘stop’ motion.
“Don’t. I love you, Jack, but I need some time to think about this.”
He swallowed hard; his heart had become a solid, heavy mass in his chest, keeping him from taking a full breath. “What is there to think about?”
She didn’t answer. She turned away, averting her eyes. “I’ve called Erin. She’s going to pick me up and take me back to the house so I can get my things.”
The pressure eased slightly. She wasn’t leaving him, she only wanted her things. Thank God.
“I can take you.”
She glared pointedly at the open bottle of Irish whiskey sitting on the bar. “No, you can’t.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“And I’m not willing to take the chance your self-perception is skewed.”
He clamped his lips together. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, she was right. He hadn’t been drinking a lot, but it was more than he should have had before even thinking about getting behind the wheel.
A late-model Chevy pulled up outside the front of the bar and honked the horn. “She’s here,” Kathleen said, her voice uncharacteristically flat. “I have to go.”