Only You (Adair Family #5)(95)

I rested my cheek on top of her head. “I’m sorry for giving you reason to doubt me.”

She shifted as if to pull back, so I lifted my head. She tilted her chin. “I won’t again. I … I love you, Brodan. Since I was twelve years old, I have been in love with you.”

Relief and joy cut through my darker emotions, and I kissed her. I kissed her as if that one kiss might keep her with me forever. “I love you too,” I whispered against her now swollen lips.

“I know who told her.”

That made me jerk back from her. “Who?”

Anger lit her eyes, but there was also the shadow of fear there. That just made me want to kill someone. Turning, she reached for a piece of card on the coffee table and handed it to me. “This was posted through the letter box. No stamp. It was hand delivered.”

I took the card.

Handwritten across it were the words:

Enjoy the fame, bitch. That’s what you get for sending thugs to my door.

Understanding dawned. Steven Shaw.

“I’m going to destroy the bastard,” I growled slowly.

“Brodan, no.” Monroe yanked the card out of my hand, expression mulish. “I told him things when we were together. Before I realized he was a prick. I told him I knew you, that we grew up together, that I loved you. I didn’t tell him everything, but I told him enough. At the time, I honestly didn’t think he believed me. But when you sent him that message after the Christmas card—”

“He realized it was all true.” My eyes flew to the window. “He must have been watching us, Roe. He took those photos.”

“And sold the story to Harriet.”

Furious, I glowered at her. “And you want me to just sit by and let him get away with it?”

She gestured with the card. “Look what antagonizing him did. He’s a sociopath, Brodan. Giving him attention is what he feeds off. We just need to ignore him.”

“Ignore him? Everyone and their uncle knows about us, Roe.”

“Wouldn’t it have come out, eventually?”

“Aye, of course. But in a way I could somewhat control.”

“It’s done.” She dropped the card on the table and pressed her hands to my chest. “I don’t want to give him or her any more of our time.” Roe’s expression softened with amazement. “We love each other, Brodan. It took us over two decades to get here. I don’t want anything to ruin that.”

For her, I tried to let my anger go. I enclosed her in my arms again. “All right.”

She sighed with relief and burrowed her head against my chest.

Then I remembered the receptionist at her school. “The school said you went home because you were sick?”

Roe pulled back, expression sheepish. “I found out in the staff room about the articles and the video … I got so panicked, I threw up.”

“Fuck.” My rage returned.

“Brodan. Please. I’m okay.”

I clasped her face in my hands. “We trust each other now, right? Going forward … nothing but love and trust.”

She nodded, happiness cutting through the shadows in her eyes. “Nothing but love and trust.”





35





Monroe





Steven and Harriet Blume outing Brodan and me meant I finally got a taste of what Brodan’s life was like. When he called to speak to his publicist, Annie, he put her on speaker and introduced us. Annie was a bit surprised to hear I was Brodan’s girlfriend, but she moved past it with blunt professionalism. She insisted that if Brodan wanted to take back some control from the tabloids, then he should post to his social media. It was apparently harder to get readers to follow the clickbait if celebrities were already posting their personal lives to socials.

So that night, we went to the Gloaming, and Arran snapped a few candid photos of Bro and me cuddled in the pub booth. Brodan posted one of them to his socials with the caption, “It’s good to be home with my love.”

He told me his comment section went wild, but he wasn’t looking at them. Brodan closed the app as soon as he posted, and I was never more thankful that I didn’t have social media accounts.

The real problem, Annie had told us, was that once Brodan announced his retirement from acting, we had to prepare for the speculation that I was the reason. Some of that speculation would turn negative, and fans might blame me. The thought didn’t fill me with as much dread as I’d anticipated. In fact, it reminded me I rarely cared what strangers thought of me. All I cared about in the end was Brodan.

We were inundated with requests from chat shows and morning television for live interviews that Brodan had his people shut down immediately. And before we could even get to dealing with the upcoming announcement of Brodan’s retirement, we had to endure the paparazzi that descended on Ardnoch. Walker took leave from his position on the estate to be Brodan’s full-time bodyguard, and a security guard from the estate, who was ex-Special Forces, agreed to be my temporary bodyguard. His name was Jock, and he was professional but a lot warmer than Walker. It was scary leaving the cottage in the mornings to a crowd of paps, pushing their cameras in my face as Jock shoved them back. When one of them grabbed at my arm hard enough to leave bruises, Brodan had enough. We packed up some things and moved into his suite in the castle where they couldn’t get to us.