Chapter Two

Reilly blew the sawdust off his latest creation, then gave it the once-over.

Almost perfect.

The headboard for the bedroom was the final piece in a full set he’d created. The rich mahogany wood was a pleasure to work with, and the four-poster bed, chest, armoire, and armchair were complete. The final piece, this headboard, had been the trickiest. He’d been working on it for months, taking his time to get it just right to pull all the pieces together; the intricate Celtic knot work was carved into almost every available surface on the board.

It was his best work to date.

Woodworking soothed his weary soul. As the leader of all the O’Rourke Protectors, a select group of time travelers tasked with protecting the O’Rourke family line and the secrets the family held, Reilly realized early on in his life that creating something from nature was his best way to remain connected to his roots.

His mobile rang, shattering the peaceful silence, and he frowned when he read the screen. He contemplated for a moment, then hit answer.

He didn’t bother with niceties. “A bit busy here.”

Gwen laughed, the sound, as ever, the best balm for his soul—though the sound this time was definitely forced. “Then why did you pick up?”

Because I will always answer your call, he thought. But he said, “Hit the wrong button. Damn phone’s too small for my hand.”

“Oh.”

He flinched. Too harsh. The entire flight back home, he argued with himself; for years, he hadn’t allowed himself to think of Gwen as anything but a friend. It had taken more restraint than he cared to admit, but he’d done it. He’d spent countless hours cultivating her belief that they were nothing more than that.

But in that moment before she told him she wanted to leave, he almost gave in.

Almost.

But now…now he could finally claim success. Gwen was getting married. She’d promised herself, body and soul, to another man.

No matter that his world just about dropped from under his feet when that prickly jackass staked a claim on her. Gwen was fully off-limits, just the way she needed to be.

And wasn’t that for the best? After she’d seen him—all of him, and all that he was—she’d turned tail the first chance she got. He hadn’t heard from her in months prior to picking her up at the airport. The last time they spoke was when she was leaving Dublin after her foray into the past with Ellie. Gwen claimed she was heading off on a series of humanitarian projects, bid him adieu just outside of the airport, then flew mostly out of his life.

And now she was back.

Over their years of knowing each other, and more than ten years of close friendship, Reilly had long ago given up on lecturing Gwen about her need to save the world. As such, he was usually the only one who ever knew exactly where she was…though there were many times when he almost wished he didn’t. He knew where her last project was because she’d video called him. It hadn’t taken much on his end to track her IP address.

If he found it strange that she looked lonely while on an extended trip with her boyfriend—fiancé, he corrected himself with a growl—he didn’t dare question it.

She cleared her throat. “Well, I won’t take up too much of your time. I just wanted to say thank you for, um, everything. It was really kind of you. You left in kind of a hurry.”

“I had to catch a commercial flight.” He forcibly unclenched his jaw and resolved to bring them back to even footing. He had to; their friendship was special. Even if she hadn’t told him about her engagement prior to the airport, he couldn’t hold it against her, as he certainly kept secrets of his own. And his reaction to her wasn’t her fault, either. “I’ll always be there to get you, Gwendolyn. Are you looking forward to the gala?”

Her voice had a smile in it. “Not particularly. It’s for my cousin, Rob Bouchement. He’s exploring the presidency.”

“Sounds like it’ll be riveting.”

She snickered. “Oh, I’m sure. I can’t wait, obviously.”

“You’ll have to tell everyone about your safari.”

“I’m sure I’ll tell them how amazing it was.”

Reilly began to clean up his sanding supplies. “More amazing than the Venezuelan jungle, I would imagine.”

“I also would imagine.”

Reilly smiled, but only because she couldn’t see him. Gwen tested his patience on every level; she was a completely unmanageable kind of woman who was on a mission to prove that she was more than her trust fund.

Of course, she would never admit that aloud, and Reilly would never dream of pointing it out to her. Doing so would guarantee him a blistering setdown, and he’d had enough of those from his mother and sister to last many lifetimes.

“Well, over here in Ireland, we’ve got this crazy event happening soon.”

She made a humming sound. “You don’t say. Would it be a wedding between my bestie and your bestie?”

Reilly dumped his tools into the shiny silver tool chest and leaned against it, the phone held against his ear. “Did you just say bestie?”

“I did!”

“I beg you, never do that again. My tux fitting is in a couple of weeks.”

She giggled. “You men have it so easy. I’ve got my dress fitting in a couple of weeks too, so I’ll be heading out that way soon. Then we have the hen party and all that.”

“Eleanor is having a hen party?” Surprised, Reilly couldn’t picture quiet, introverted Ellie Carberry—soon to be O’Rourke—partying it up on the town. Gwen, he could see. She loved to go out and have a good time.

Gwen snorted. “In a way, I suppose. We’re going to do dinner.”

“That sounds more like the Ellie we all know. You want to stay here?”

As soon as the words were out of his mouth he regretted them. Of course she couldn’t stay with him. She was seeing someone. Hell, she was marrying someone.

Someone else.

But it wasn’t his bed she crawled into when her nightmares became too much, his traitorous mind reminded him.

She cleared her throat. “Thanks, but I got a hotel room. Anthony will be meeting me out there, so…”

His breathing wasn’t quite right, but he managed to sound normal when he replied, “Of course. Figured I’d ask.”

“Yeah, and with all the wedding stuff I have going on with El, I’ll be crazy busy with her, so, you know, it works out. Thanks, though.”

“Sure.”

Gwen rambled on, a sure sign she was nervous, and Reilly again vowed to be more civil to her.

Gwen continued, “I’ll be out there for a few weeks. You know, before the wedding. Do you, um, have any travel plans?”

“Do you perhaps mean a weekend away in France, or something a little further?”

She coughed. “Something a little further.”

Inexplicably, Reilly felt the tension ease out of him. If she was talking about their last trip together (which was really her and Ellie ending up in medieval Ireland, and him, Colin, and James coming to rescue them), they might be able to find some common ground, and he could smooth out this conversation.

“Not at the moment I don’t.”

“Oh.”

The disappointment in her voice was unmistakable. He ran his hands over the woodwork of his dresser and asked, “Did you want me to be gone?”

“Oh, no! I wanted to go with you.”

Reilly froze, those six words wreaking absolute havoc on his heart. She wanted to travel with him? Time travel?

His pulse suddenly kicked into high gear, and he strove to maintain his even voice. “I don’t think your fiancé would appreciate you traveling with me. Especially out of cell range.”

“You might be right, but really, he’s not like that. He’s not the jealous type.”

Reilly would beg to differ, as he was the one staring him down in an airport parking lot, but as that was an argument he didn’t care to get into, he refrained from replying. Instead, he queried, “How’d the meeting with the parents go?”

Gwen let out a frustrated sigh. “They haven’t met him yet, but they seem thrilled. They’ve been pestering me about finding a man for years.”

“I know.”

“They love me and want me to—” she started.

“Find a respectable husband with loads of money, become a trophy wife, and bear two-point-five perfect children?”

“I was going to say be a part of their world, but as usual, you’re probably right. Maybe not the point-five part, though. A whole child seems like a better deal, if I’m to go through pregnancy a third time.”

“Aye, I’d agree. Are you home now?”

“Walking into my house at this very moment. I wish I was walking into yours, though. God, I miss Ireland in the fall.”

His heart stuttered a little, and he cursed himself thoroughly. He strove for a light tone. “Gwendolyn Allen, you’re flirting with me again.”

She hesitated a moment, and Reilly mentally slapped himself; their banter could not include such remarks anymore.

“I should’ve told you when it happened,” she said softly. Apologetically.

He knew she meant not telling him about her engagement. “Why didn’t you?”

He could almost hear the wheels spinning in her head, but finally, she went with the truth. He could tell from her tone.

“I really did want to tell you in person. Anthony and I have been together for a while.”

Reilly’s chest tightened. “Define a while.”

“Four months.”

The world again dropped out from Reilly’s feet, and he struggled to catch his breath. Four months…meaning she’d been seeing Anthony when she video called him, but she didn’t say a thing about it. That bothered him. She shared everything with him—her happiness and her sadness. He lived for those moments, though he doubted she knew that. He hoped she didn’t know that.

She made it abundantly clear in their early years of friendship that she was interested in being more than friends. But she was too important to him to bring into his world of constantly changing locations and times. Add to that, she didn’t know he was a time traveler, and Reilly couldn’t bring himself to ruin what was the best relationship of his life with sex.

Not that he hadn’t imagined it with Gwen. With her fiery, copper-red hair, luminous, forest-green eyes, soft, freckled skin, and feisty mouth, he’d have to be dead not to.

And he was as far from dead as any human had a right to be.

Reilly had admitted to himself more times than he could remember that he needed Gwen like he needed air. Her spirit always lifted his own, and her laugh soothed his troubled soul. She knew when to sit in silence and when to tease him out of a mood. She could read him better than anyone of his acquaintance, not that it was hard; he’d simply allowed her to get to know the real him.

And now she even knew about the time-traveling side of him, not that he’d had much say about that after she and Eleanor ended up on the wrong side of a time gate.

“Are you very angry with me?” she asked in a small voice.

He shook his head, though she couldn’t see him. “Never, Gwendolyn. Just surprised. And a bit hurt.”

Hurt that she hadn’t told him about Venezuela, hurt that she’d been in a relationship long enough to decide that man was the one for her. He could hear her swallow hard, and he felt a rock land in his stomach. She replied quietly, “I’m sorry, Reilly.”

“Forgiven.” And he did forgive her, because it wasn’t her fault. He messed up; he should’ve confessed his feelings when she gave him the chance. Instead, he shut her down again, and she moved on. He had to accept that.

“So you’re okay with it?”

He cleared his throat. “Don’t waste another moment worrying, lass. I’m happy for you and your new beau.”

“Really?”

“Aye. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”

They chatted easily for a few more minutes—well, easily on Gwen’s part, Reilly had to force a lightness to his tone, lest she think he was still upset—and when they hung up, Reilly sat down heavily on his couch.

Gwen was truly getting married.

He absently rubbed the hollow spot in his chest and stared out his window, unseeing.

• • •

Almost a week later, Gwen paced nervously in the living room of her quaint Cape Cod house. She loved her little beach home, tucked alongside New Hampshire’s small coastline, but in the summer, her tiny coastal town was a tourist attraction, due to the art galleries and homemade candy shops that lined Main Street. The quintessential, sleepy New England fishing community had quite the boom a few years back, and now artisans and politicians alike flocked there during the summer months.

Gwen tried to stay away until autumn came.

She was all dressed up for the big political event at the yacht club in the city. Her mom, Bev, and her dad, Rick, were flying in from their home in California, to support their highly politicized side of the family. This wasn’t their first song-and-dance; these kinds of parties were what her parents lived for. They loved to mingle and mix with the wealthy elite; as the only child, Gwen had always simply gone along. It was fun to get dressed up and drink really expensive wine (which to her, she admitted only to Reilly, tasted the same as inexpensive wine). Usually.

It was always a good time because Reilly was there. They’d made games of the various things they were sure to hear, such as whenever someone mentioned their summer home, each of them would tuck a cocktail napkin into Ry’s suit pocket. At the end of the night, they’d count the napkins, and that’s the number of whiskey shots they would split.

A heaviness settled into the pit of Gwen’s stomach at the thought. She didn’t want to put on a smile tonight. She didn’t want to walk around in the high heels, or make up stories about South Africa. She wanted to crawl into bed, pull the covers over her head, and pretend that the last couple weeks of her life were just a really bad dream.

Gwen checked her appearance in the mirror again. It was what it was. She had agreed to go to the fundraiser, and go she would. Tonight would be fun. It would just be a different kind of fun, and that would be something to take her mind off her troubles.

She felt, rather than heard, Anthony’s bike pull into her driveway. A moment later, he walked into her house and swept into a bow.

“You look gorgeous. And you’re not even holding a wrench.”

She laughed. “I can’t believe you rode your motorcycle while wearing a tux!”

“I didn’t feel like taking the truck,” he shrugged, then winked.

He really was charming, and a genuinely nice person. Her parents were going to adore him, for he was definitely a chameleon, and would fit in with the political crowd just as easily as he did with the guys at a bar.

“Good thing I have a car,” she replied dryly. “I don’t think I can comfortably get onto the back of your bike wearing this.” She tugged at the tight bodice, then twisted around. “Would you mind finishing up the zipper?”

“I’d like to unfinish it,” he murmured, but he zipped it and spun her around. “Did I tell you how stunning you are?”

She smiled at him, wishing for the millionth time that she was as in love with him as he was with her.

Do not think of that right now.

She leaned up on her toes to kiss him. “Well, let’s go. We wouldn’t want to be late to the party.”

“Red, there is no party until you arrive.”

She smiled at him again. She appreciated the compliment. Reilly usually grunted at her.

Last night, Reilly insisted on driving her all the way to her house, even though she was supposed to stay at Colin’s. As soon as he’d checked every room and assured himself that she was good, he left in a hurry.

She hated that he wasn’t speaking to her.

Do not think about Reilly.

She brought herself back into the present. “Well, we have at least an hour of driving ahead of us, so if you’re ready, I am, too.”

Anth swiped the keys from her front table. “I’ll fill your tank. The reality is that my car battery died and I didn’t want to make us late, so I took the bike. If it’s okay with you, I’ll drive. Those shoes look killer.”

She glanced down at the stilettos. “I could drive barefoot.”

“Or you could allow me to be a gentleman and drive us.”

She capitulated, and after they were well on their way, he flicked a glance to her.

“So. That guy. The Irish one.”

Gwen sighed. “Reilly, yes. He’s been my friend for years, and my driver cancelled, so Reilly came to pick me up.”

“Does he live here in New England?”

“No, he lives in Ireland.”

Anthony’s shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Ah. Why was he in town?”

To go to the gala, she thought, a pang of guilt hitting her. She had told him about it before their time traveling adventure, though she specifically hadn’t asked him to go with her, as she always did.

“He was visiting his family, as a few of them live in the city,” she added. “But he’s gone back to Ireland now.”

He didn’t even say goodbye. She had gotten a text from Colin.

That may have been about the time when she started feeling panicky. She still wasn’t sure why she felt so anxious, but she wished it would stop already.

“Did you two have a thing, ever?”

Gwen blinked. “Wow, you’re not mincing words, Anth.”

“Well, I come out to see you wrapped up in his arms, wearing his jacket, and it makes a guy a little bit unsure, you know? So I think it’s a fair question.”

She shook her head decisively. “We did not have a thing. We do not currently have a thing. We are very good friends, but that’s it.”

Anthony reached over and laced his fingers with hers. “Good. Because it about killed me to see you in someone else’s arms. You’re with me.”

She squeezed his hand. “Willingly.”

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. “Excellent. Now, remind me about your parents and tell me all about the fun I’m going to pretend to have.”

“Lots. Remember that they know nothing of Venezuela. However, my parents are thrilled at our engagement, and I’m sure we’ll be passed around more than the appetizers.”

“Sounds painful.”

“It will be.”

“And what’s your speech about?”

Gwen blew out a gusty breath. “I’m going to be talking about the devastating effects of the opioid crisis in New England, and by extension, the entire country. And I’ll be asking for people to consider donating to this cause.”

“Well, whatever you do, don’t beg. You’re better than that.”

Gwen frowned. “I’m not sure what you mean by that?”

He patted her knee. “Don’t worry about it. Do you want to practice the speech?”

Perhaps it was misplaced humor that fell flat, so she let it go. “Nah, I’m good, thanks. It’s important to me—really important—but I just can’t practice it anymore.”

“Understood.”

As they talked and the miles dragged by, Gwen could appreciate that she was content. She wasn’t jumping up and down overjoyed, and her belly wasn’t fluttering with butterflies, but content was enough for her.

She’d long ago accepted that security and contentment was more than enough, as it was leaps and bounds ahead of loneliness and heartbreak.

• • •

“Where’s Mr. O’Malley this evening?”

Gwen smiled politely at the couple across from her and Anthony. “He had other engagements.”

“It isn’t as though she keeps track of his whereabouts,” Anthony added sharply.

Gwen dipped her head at the couple slightly, and placed her hand on her fiancé’s arm. “Excuse us.” She ushered him away from the taken aback couple and dragged him into an adjoining room. “What is wrong with you?” she hissed.

“Does anyone see me standing there?” he huffed in reply. He mocked, “Where’s Mr. O’Malley? Does he plan to join us this evening? What a wonderful man, that Reilly of yours!”

Gwen frowned. “Stop it. They know him as my friend; he’s been to almost every one of these events and has made an effort to get to know these people. They’re meeting you as my fiancé, and you’re not exactly making the best impression!”

Anthony rolled his eyes. “And are these people the kind of people you care to make an impression on, Gwendolyn?” He glanced back at the throng of well-dressed people, sipping champagne while talking and laughing. “I bet they’ve never done a day’s work in their life! Do they even know what a hammer is?”

Gwen’s jaw set. “You don’t know them, Anthony—”

He barked out a laugh. “No, I don’t. And I don’t care to, either.”

“They are part of my world,” she exclaimed in a low voice. She glanced up at an elderly couple passing by. “Those are the Hendricks. They’ve donated more than six million dollars to fund research into Alzheimer’s. And over there, the man in the dark gray suit? That’s Mark Torrey. Two years ago, he lost his daughter to drug overdose and has donated his entire yearly paycheck to—”

“Oh, please,” Anthony cut her off with a wave of his hand. “Money doesn’t equate with hard work. What we do is important. What we do actually helps people.”

Gwen blinked at him, words failing her. “I’m—I’m sorry, what?”

He looked over the assorted people of her extended family, business associates, and longtime family friends with disdain. “You joined us to get away from the falsity of all this. I don’t understand why we’re here. We could be doing so much more with our time. They could be doing so much more. Give them a hammer or bring them to a third world country. Let them see who really needs help. It’s those kids without a school building in Nairobi. Not,” he sniffed with a glance to Mr. Torrey, “overprivileged rich brats who spent their daddy’s money on some drugs and had to pay the piper.”

Gwen’s heart constricted tightly, cutting off her breath. Jennifer Torrey was one of the nicest women Gwen had ever known, and watching her fall victim to the opioid crisis was something she would always struggle with. Anthony’s careless remarks about her friend sliced deeply.

“I live by the creed that you need to gather all the facts before making a judgement,” she replied stiffly.

“That’s idealistic of you, but hardly relevant. I was in that room with you. Those are hours I’ll never get back; those people are so self-important, it makes me sick.”

Gwen’s mouth worked for a few seconds before she just shook her head in disgusted shock. “I think you need to leave.”

His head snapped back. “Excuse me?”

She swallowed, her throat painfully dry, her breath still short. “You need to go. I don’t want you here.”

“We came together,” he pointed out.

“You can take a car service back to my place to get your bike or I can have the bike sent to you tomorrow,” she said, her voice stronger. “But I want you gone right now.”

“I’m not made of money like everyone else here,” he shot back.

She fumbled in her purse and withdrew her wallet. She shoved a couple hundred-dollar bills at him. “Go away.”

He took the money and shook his head in disgust. “We need to have a long talk about this, Gwendolyn.”

She gritted her teeth, but instead of responding, she spun on her heel and left him behind her.

“Dear, where’s your fiancé going?” her mother asked, gliding up next to her with a fresh glass of champagne as she watched Anthony head toward the coat room.

“Away,” she muttered, swiping the glass and downing it.

Bev shook her head. “It seems as though you two had a disagreement.”

“We’ve been disagreeing all night,” Gwen admitted.

Her mother nodded. “I know. People are worried about you. Said they haven’t seen a true smile from you yet. Even with the wonderful news that your cousin is considering a run for the presidency! You know, the press will arrive soon. They’ve been invited for the second half of the gala. They’ll hear your speech.”

“I know. And I’ll try harder to relax,” Gwen murmured. And she would, because despite the pompousness of some people in the room, as she’d grown older, she saw what good they really tried to do. Anthony was right in that some of them had never worked a day the same way he did; however, their strengths were in other areas, and they were using those strengths to make impacts where they could. In fact, Mr. Torrey was working with the governor to go after pharmaceutical companies for their role in his daughter’s death.

That could prevent so many future deaths and heartache, and Gwen could only see the good in his intentions. And most of the people at the gala had similar impacts on the charities they supported, too.

And…they were her family, both by blood and by water. For Anthony to not understand that, above all else, made her doubts grow even stronger.

Half an hour later, the doors opened to the press, and Gwen stood as far back as possible. She didn’t care to have her picture in the papers or magazines, and she had just about reached her limit of “Where did your young man go off to?” questions. She quietly slipped out the main ballroom doors, but drew up short.

There, in front of her, stood Reilly, in a crisp black tuxedo. He tilted his head at her. “You clean up nice, Ms. Allen.”

She blinked, then blinked again. “Wha—how—why are you here?” she blurted out.

He clasped a hand over his heart. “You wound me with your lack of compliments to my person.” He leaned forward and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I even brushed my hair for the occasion.”

She broke out into a grin and held her hand out to him. “My apologies, Mr. O’Malley. You look…”

“Go on,” he encouraged, taking her hand and dropping a kiss to her knuckles.

She could barely string two thoughts together, never mind words. How was Reilly standing here, in Boston, and not in Ireland, where he was when they last spoke? She took a long look at him and assessed.

He stood, gorgeous, smiling, happy to see her.

In a tux.

Wearing his little-boy, charming, disarming, impish smile.

“Dashing,” she finally said, when she caught her breath.

He shook his head. “Weak. Give it another go, and make it count this time.”

“Fishing for compliments?” she teased, tugging her hand.

Instead of letting go, he gently pulled her closer and tucked her hand into his elbow. He gave a blinding smile to a passing server, who nearly tripped over herself from the force of it, and took a glass of champagne from the tray. After thanking her, he offered the glass to Gwen, who refused it. He shrugged, then tossed it back. “No need to fish for them, really. Just trying to expand your terribly lacking vocabulary.”

“You are an arrogant ass, you know,” she replied loftily.

“Still not a compliment,” he replied in a singsong voice.

She looked at him seriously for a moment. “Be straight with me, Ry. Why are you here, and not at home?”

He placed the now-empty glass on another passing server’s tray and looked into her eyes. His hazel gaze turned serious. “Because when I thought about it, I know that this is a big night for you. You have a speech to give, on a very personal subject. And even though I might not be your date this evening, I do have an open invitation to these things, courtesy of your dad.” He gave her a small smile. “No matter how much we fight, I’ll always be there to support you.”

Her mouth hung open a little, her heart bursting into flowers and her stomach erupting into beautiful, terrifying butterflies. “Are we fighting?” she finally managed to ask.

He laughed. “No, Gwendolyn. We never really fight, because I can never stay angry with you.”

“Were you angry with me?” she asked quietly.

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Nay, lass. ’Twas only myself with whom I was angry. Forgive an old man for his grouchiness. Let us find your date.”

Gwen pursed her lips. “Well, he had to leave, so…”

Ry slid her a look that spoke volumes, but he wisely held his tongue. “’Tis a shame. Will you allow me the honor of clinging to your dress in there? I know so few people, you see.”

This, she thought happily. Their banter, the games they always played, the feeling of security on his arm—this is what had been missing the entire evening. Her shoulders relaxed, her chest loosened, and even her cheek muscles slackened slightly. She felt the familiar sense of peace wash over her. Gwen couldn’t help her wide smile, and played along. “Of course. Come, come, I’ll introduce you.”

“My thanks,” he replied, leading her back into the room.

“I warn you, they are a little boring,” she whispered conspiratorially.

“Ah,” he whispered back. “Lucky for you, I’m not.”

She chuckled, but the sound was lost when a burst of cheers went up at the sight of Reilly.

As they were instantly surrounded by her family and friends, Gwen understood their happiness at seeing him. It was easy to love Reilly O’Malley.

Not as easy, perhaps, to earn his love in return.

Not that she wanted to anymore. No, that ship had sailed, and she’d moved on. He was the best of men, and she was grateful to have him in her life. But she knew a reckoning was coming.

She was too much of a realist to know she couldn’t have her cake and eat it, too.

• • •

“You didn’t come home last night.”

“Anthony?” Gwen blinked blearily at the phone screen, trying to hit the speaker button so she wouldn’t have to expend the effort of actually holding the phone to her ear. She shouldn’t have stayed out so late, but really, she was having too good of a time to go home early. Lucky for her, Colin’s house was a quick trip from the gala last night.

“I waited at your house like a fool until three in the morning. And then, when I check the local news, guess whose picture is splashed all over the website?”

Gwen rubbed her eyes and looked around Colin’s guest room, her eyes landing on an alarm clock a few feet away. “Anthony, it’s seven in the morning. Can this wait until I’ve at least opened my eyes?”

“Are you sleeping with him?”

At that, Gwen sat up quickly, a flash of anger slicing through her sleep fog. “Absolutely not. I’m not a cheater.”

“Well,” Anthony replied, scorn in his tone, “in the pictures I’m seeing, you’re looking at him like a lovesick teenager.”

“Jealousy is not necessary,” she snapped. If there was one thing she hated beyond all else, it was the feeling of being caged. She knew from past experiences that jealous boyfriends most definitely wanted her caged; she hadn’t thought Anthony had a jealous bone in his body.

Apparently, she’d been wrong.

“I want you to stop hanging around him.”

Gwen groaned. “Reilly is my best friend. I’m not going to give up a friendship just because you demand it. That’s not how adulting works, Anthony.”

“It’s how relationships work, Gwendolyn.”

“I’m not discussing this. I’ve barely opened my eyes, much less had any coffee. I’ll call you later.”

The annoyance in his voice when he began to respond had her hitting the End button, then flipping the switch to silence the phone.

“You really want to marry that bloke?” Reilly asked, appearing at her bed with a steaming mug in his hand.

She greedily reached for it. “Is that for me?”

He held it out of reach with a raised eyebrow. “Yours is brewing downstairs. I figured if I could get you to smell it, I could lure you from your slumber. Alas, it looks like you were woken up in another, much less pleasurable, way.”

She flopped back against the pillow as Reilly sat on the edge of the bed. “He thinks I’m sleeping with you.”

Reilly’s eyes darkened. In another life, whenever she told Reilly of her boyfriend believing she was sleeping with him, she liked to think that his eyes darkened with desire at the thought of it. Now, she knew it was only concern.

He made a non-committal sound, but she knew he wanted to say something. She narrowed her eyes. “What?”

“You know what I’m thinking, so why say it? We both know it’ll merely inflame your temper.”

“It’s too early for your logical nonsense,” she replied, pulling the covers over her head.

He flipped them back. “Wake up, Sleeping Beauty. I’ve a flight to catch in but a few hours’ time, and you’re driving me.”

“Why do I have to wake up now?” she grumbled. “And you still haven’t said what’s on your mind.”

“Lass, move your fetching self out of this bed. I’ve plans for us yet, and you’re putting me behind schedule.”

“It’s schedule, with a K sound.”

“You Yanks have butchered the English language long enough. Halt your attempts to slay it further. It’s shhhh-ed-joo-wel, as you well know. Move, wench, before I make you.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m going back to sleep.”

She squeaked as he swiftly lifted her from the bed. “Hey!”

He paused for a moment, looking first at her as she glared at him from his arms, then the coffee cup which he’d obviously just placed on the nightstand. He quickly tossed her over one shoulder and reached for the cup.

“I will breathe my morning breath all over you if you don’t put me down,” she warned, her face against his back.

“Ah, lass. A bit o’ morning breath has yet to ever put any man off from a beautiful woman.” He readjusted her so her stomach wasn’t crushed against him, and made his way downstairs.

“You know I have no pants on, right?” she grumbled.

“Aye. But the tunic you lifted from my room last night covers the important bits,” he replied.

“You should be more out of breath,” she added, propping her elbow against his back and resting her face in her hand.

“As should you. Stop talking, wench, or else you’ll make your own coffee.” He gently deposited her into one of the barstools, and as he went to the mammoth built-in coffee bar, she couldn’t help her smile.

And, as always, her happiness was accompanied by that all-too-familiar, all-too-real sharp pain of unrequited love.

Damn him for being so wonderful.

And damn her messy emotions that were nearly—but not totally—impossible to repress.

• • •

“Gwen, I’m not a jealous guy. I’m really not. But you’re dropping what, four grand? For a plane ticket to go see another man three thousand miles away?”

Gwen pinched the bridge of her nose. In the back of her mind, when she agreed to marry Anthony, she recognized she’d have to let some of her closeness with Reilly lapse. But did it have to be so soon? She thought she’d have time to wean herself from the unmovable friendship. “It’s not like that, Anth. He’s my friend. And I told you, I’m going early to help Ellie.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his eyes blazing. “Oh, sure. Because your friend needs you for three weeks before her wedding?”

“She asked me to come.”

“And I’m your fiancé, asking you not to go.”

“You’re being insecure.”

“I’m not, Gwen. I’m being honest. I don’t want you to go for so long. This guy…Reilly. You didn’t see his expression when I walked up to you at the airport. He had possession written all over his face.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! Reilly is protective, not possessive, of me. Like a brother,” Gwen explained, though she knew it fell on deaf ears.

“A brother who wants in your pants.”

“That’s not even funny, Anth.”

He grabbed her hand. “Don’t go, Gwen. Please. Come to Atlanta with me instead.”

“My best friend is getting married. I’m her maid of honor. You know this.”

His mouth settled into a thin line. “You want to know what I know? Instead of taking a vacation with me, my fiancée is hopping an international flight to go see her friend on the flimsy excuse that she needs to be there three weeks before an hour-long ceremony.”

Gwen shook her head forcefully. “That isn’t how it is!” She unclenched her jaw and lowered her voice. “You’re acting like a child. I do not want to go on yet another charity trip right now, Anthony. I saw too much on the last one. I’m burnt out, and this is the perfect break for me. And my best friend since childhood is getting married. Relationships are built on trust, and you’re not trusting me.”

“It isn’t you I don’t trust!” he finally shouted. “But it doesn’t look good from that angle, either. You are choosing this guy, and your friends, over me! I offer you me, and you pass to go running to your so-called best friend, to whom you didn’t so much as drop a letter while we were in Venezuela!”

Gwen’s mouth dropped open. “You have no idea what I did or did not do!” She hadn’t written any letters, of course. She didn’t want the postmark to show her true location, but aside from that, email was significantly easier. And she’d been emailing with Ellie weekly, not that she planned to share that information with Anthony. Not while he was angry, anyway.

“Here’s the issue, Gwen. Your buddy, the ‘brother-like’ guy, has a thing for you. You don’t think he’s going to make a play for you now that you’re taken, Gwen? You don’t think he’s going to want what he can’t have?”

“Reilly has no feelings like that for me!” she shouted back, fully exasperated. “You’re being unreasonable!”

Anthony’s mouth was hard. “Not if you look at it from my perspective, Gwen. I know what I saw. And while I trust you, I definitely don’t trust that guy.”

She gritted her teeth. “Oh, yes, you definitely trust that in the highly unlikely event that Reilly O’Malley, whom I’ve been friends with for years, makes a pass at me, I won’t be able to help myself?”

She pushed down the teeny flutter of excitement that thought brought.

She reined in her temper. “Anthony, I’ve stayed at his house more times than I can count. He’s just not into me the way you think he is. I’ve known him my entire adult life. He’s not going to make a pass at me.”

Anth glowered. “So you’re going, no matter what?”

“Yes, I’m going to help one of my best friends plan the final details of her wedding, and I’m going to see my other best friend, who loves me like a sister.”

Anthony’s eyes narrowed. “You know, you say an awful lot about how he feels about you, but not once have you said how you feel about him. Not a single, ‘I think of him like a brother,’ or an, ‘I don’t have any romantic feelings for him.’”

“Are you kidding me right now?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think I am.”

“I’m marrying you, Anthony. What other reassurance do you need?”

“The kind that comes from you by my side, instead of on the other side of the ocean.”

She held the door open, unwilling to face that truth. Baby steps. “I think you better leave.”

“That’s it, then? Everything we’ve been working toward, every feeling we’ve had for each other, and I get shown the door because I don’t want you to spend the better part of a month with another man?”

Gwen’s shoulders dropped. “I’m not ending the engagement, for crying out loud. But you clearly don’t trust me enough to know me. I’m not a cheater. I wouldn’t cheat on you. On anyone.”

“I believe you.”

“Great. Then I’ll see you in Ireland for the wedding.”

“Gwen.”

The pain in his voice stopped her cold.

“You and I…we’re great together. I can see it, long term. I can see our future together; we can have it all, and be so happy together. Don’t you see that, too? A family? A future?”

She swallowed hard. A safe, steady future with a man she cared for deeply. Yes, she could see it; she could be content with that life.

It was what she wanted, after all. Stability. A life partner. Someone who loved her.

But right now, she needed something else, something she couldn’t quite name.

He added quietly, “I’m a sure thing. I will spend every day trying to make you happy. Can’t you see it?”

She nodded slowly, her resolve wavering. “Of course I can.”

“Then be done with that guy. Prove to me that I’m more important. Come with me to Atlanta.”

Any softening feelings melted away. “I will not give up my oldest friend because of your insecurity, Anthony.”

“It’s not insecurity, Gwendolyn. It’s an absolute fact. The man wants you for more than friendship. I’m in love with you, Gwen. And you know what that means? That means I can see others who are in love, too. And that guy—”

“His name is Reilly,” she snapped, her patience at an end.

“I don’t care if his name is Prince freaking Harry. The guy is in love with you. I think it’s best if you just cut ties.”

She gave him a tight smile. “That’s enough, Anthony. I’ll see you in Ireland. The time apart will do us both good.”

He opened his mouth quickly, but snapped it shut as she held open the door and waited without making eye contact.

His jaw set, he gave her a jerky nod and, without another word, he stormed out.

She quietly closed the door behind him, seething. She knew if she ever wanted a chance at a life with Anthony, she would have to leave Reilly in the past. She didn’t need Anthony to force it down her throat.

And I will leave him behind, she promised herself. When I’m ready. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t be able to fully give her heart to anyone else. But that would happen on her own schedule, and not anyone else’s.