Chapter Eighteen

 

 

An enormous choking knot sat on Isobel’s chest when she left the store. After putting in a full day of work, she wanted nothing more than to hide out at the loft and immerse herself in her own designs for a few hours before heading home to tuck Connor and Maisie into bed.

And to face her husband for the first time since their fight the previous night.

The knot in her chest tightened with a painful wrench. Their run -in with Amber shouldn’t have upset her so much, except that it provided proof of the one thing Isobel had feared most when Shea had offered her his help—that she’d let him get too close. And she had. She’d let him get way too close.

Though her heart had ached with the loss of him, his nearness inflicted fresh wounds. Because now she knew the exact color and flavor of the anguish that awaited her if he left her a second time. She couldn’t bear it, not again. Too late, she wished she’d never taken that risk.

To reclaim some of the distance between them, she’d snuck out of the house early that morning just to avoid him, leaving while he still showered, and she’d gone to bed early the night before so that she’d be sound asleep when he returned home from the pub. It was juvenile and cowardly, but she was desperate.

On the sidewalk, she careened toward the stairwell, anxious to retreat upstairs, but before she reached safety, the door to the pub opened and Sophie poked her head outside.

“C’mon,” she hissed, waving Isobel inside. “Quick, quick, quick.”

Isobel wavered, frowning at her friend. “What are you doing? What’s going on?”

“The party, silly. Come on. You’re late.”

Isobel’s stomach dropped the pavement beneath her feet. She forgotten Finn’s birthday? It was the cardinal sin of parenting. Terrible guilt swamped her as she rushed inside the pub behind Sophie.

She jolted when the large cheer went up.

“Surpri—!” The burst of sound died off as a collective groan.

Ava detached from the small crowd gathered. “Relax, everyone. It’s not him.”

Above the bar hung a large banner with the words “Happy Birthday, Finn!”

“Wait.” Isobel shook her head to clear it. “It’s not Finn’s birthday.”

“Maisie found out and we bumped it up a few days before she tattled to Finn.” Sophie smacked Ava on the arm. “I thought you were going to send her a reminder.”

Ava hit Sophie back. “I did.”

“Wow.” Sophie rubbed the spot on her arm. “You’re really strong.”

Ava fixed large, light eyes on Isobel. “I sent you a text last night. Didn’t you get it?”

Isobel winced to recall her fight with Shea the previous night.

“I guess I missed it.” With a gasp, Isobel pinned Ava with a look. “Tell me you didn’t invite Dad.”

“I didn’t invite Dad.” Ava held up her hands in a sign of surrender. “But I wanted to.”

“Yeah, well, I want a lot of things I can’t have either,” Isobel muttered.

Sophie looped her arm under Isobel’s elbow. “C’mon. Let’s get you a drink.”

At the bar, a handsome bartender took their drink orders.

“Sorry I haven’t been able to help you out more.” A sardonic smile tugged at Sophie’s mouth. “Though given my sewing ability, maybe that’s a good thing.”

Isobel leaned in, as if imparting a secret. “Ava’s worse.”

Sophie’s green eyes danced with humor. “Is she?”

Isobel nodded. “And it’s okay. I know how busy you are with the business. How’s it going?”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “It was great, up until this week.”

“What happened this week?”

The bartender set two glasses half filled with pink wine on the bar and Sophie scooped one up. “I don’t want to talk about it right now.” She took a long, hearty swallow, then returned the wineglass to the bar top. “Let’s talk about your week instead. I noticed you and Shea having been spending a lot of time together.”

The bite of uncertainty pinched Isobel in the center of her chest.

Sophie winced. “Uh-oh. That’s the sigh.”

Despite herself, Isobel laughed.

“Is it true you two were on a date?” Sophie prodded gently.

“It was a practice date.”

Sophie scrunched up her nose. “What the heck is a practice date?”

With a flick of her wrist, Isobel waved off her question. “I don’t recommend it.”

“But that means you guys are trying?” Sophie nudged. “So there’s hope, right?”

Isobel’s throat squeezed, and she stared down into her wineglass. “I don’t know. Every time I think we’ve turned a corner, that we might be past the worst of it, something always pulls us back down again. Like gravity.” Tears prickled behind her eyes when she risked a glance at her friend. “Really sucky gravity.”

“I’m sorry, hon. I wish I knew how to help.” Sophie raised her wineglass to her lips, but before she could drink, a choked sound erupted from her. “What the—?”

Isobel twisted around. “What? What happened?”

“Who put the balloons there?” Sophie bounded off her barstool. “They can’t go by the cake table. Seriously, people.”

Sophie’s aggrieved protests died off as she scurried away to rectify the situation. Isobel turned back to her wine and lifted the glass to her lips.

“Can I say something?” asked a voice at her side.

At the sound of his thick Irish accent, Isobel groaned. Apart from her husband, she only knew one other man with that accent.

Her head swiveled in Noah’s direction. “Depends what it is.”

Noah propped his elbow on the bar and leaned his long frame against the wood. “Of all the people in the world, I think you and I probably know Shea the best. Wouldn’t you say?”

“Yeah, probably.” She searched his dark eyes and found herself pulled in by their gooey warm centers.

“The two of us, we know more than anyone what he did for the rest of us.”

Her heart lurched. “You mean what he did for you and your brothers?”

“He carried the weight of the world—of all our worlds—on his shoulders.” A wistful smile curved one side of his mouth. “For a long time, I resented him for that. But I was only looking at things from my point of view. I didn’t see what it cost him.”

“I know it was hard on him, but he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.”

“Maybe not, but he gave up an awful lot us. He gave up everything to try and save us. All of us.” He tipped his pint of Guinness at her. “Except you. He wouldn’t give you up. Even when you tried to make him.”

“I didn’t make him give me up.” Heat flushed her cheeks. “He did that all on his own.”

“Did he?”

Her blush deepened, not with outrage but with shame. Because she knew he was right.

Emotion clogged in her throat. “I’m still annoyed with him.”

“No doubt.” Noah’s white teeth flashed with his wide grin. “I intend to hold it against him for the rest of our lives. It’s great fun, that.”

If she’d been able to laugh, his probing gaze would’ve smothered her mirth.

“I don’t know what’s happened between you two, and honestly, I don’t care.” Dark brown eyes gripped her. “I knew you both before you were together, and I knew you as a couple. You’re good together.”

Unable to bear the intensity of his gaze any longer, she ducked her chin.

“Izzy, don’t end your marriage because you think it will end the pain. It won’t. And don’t end it because you’re mad or hurt or because you think it’s too hard.” A gentle anguish touched his voice. “Isn’t that what your dad did to you?”

The words impaled her heart. A direct hit.

On that traitorous note, he slipped away into the crowd.

Twisting on the barstool, she called after him, “I never did like you.”

His easy laughter carried back to her.

When she turned back for her glass of wine, she caught the bartender watching them, an intense scowl on his pleasant features. Hastily, he dropped his gaze and made vigorous swipes at the bar top with a wet towel.

“You must be the new bartender.” She offered him a stiff smile. “How do you like the job so far?”

He tossed the towel across one of his broad shoulders. “I like it.”

“I’m Isobel. Shea’s… wife.”

Golden brown eyes regarded her outstretched hand warily. “I know who you are.” He jerked his chin at something behind her. “That was his brother?”

She curled her untouched hand into a fist and let it fall to the lap. “One of them, yes.”

“Which one?” he asked tightly.

“Noah.”

Confusion puckered his brow. “So Shea, Noah, Leo, and Luke?”

“And Jack.”

He straightened. “Jack?”

“He doesn’t live on the island year-round.” Proud of all Jack had accomplished, details about his life and career gathered in her throat, but at the bartender’s troubled expression, she swallowed them. “He travels a lot.”

His scowl turned severe when he ducked his head and resumed his assault on the bar. Collecting her drink, she slipped off her barstool and moved away.

“What happened to their parents?”

His question stopped her midstride and she glanced back at him over her shoulder. In the dim lighting, his deep-set eyes were hooded by shadow, and the straight line of his nose over his full, plump mouth plucked a familiar chord that reverberated through her.

The hairs lifted on her arms and the back of her neck. “They died,” she said softly.

A muscle ticked along his jawline while he appeared to wrestle with another question, but when another guest leaned across the bar, he flashed the woman a dazzling smile and fetched her drink.

Isobel’s heart thrummed while the jovial sounds of her family and friends swirled around her. With a mental shake, she tried to throw off her discomfort with the odd exchange. She took a swig of wine, chasing its calming effect, and turned her back to the barkeep.

Through the crowd, she spotted Sophie wrestling with a tangle of balloons while Ava offered input that made Sophie’s mouth pinch at the corners.

Then, she saw him.

Dread sat on her chest. His back to her, he wore a black sweater that stretched tight across his wide shoulders and hung loose around his lean waist. When he bent to scoop up Connor, his dark blue jeans hugged his tight butt.

As though sensing her regard, he turned, and his vivid blue eyes captured hers.

An army of butterfly wings beat furiously in her stomach as the pull of his gaze started her feet moving under her.

In his arms, Connor squirmed and as she drew near, Shea set Connor loose to launch his little body at Isobel. Dropping down, she pressed a kiss on his chubby cheek before he wriggled free of her arms to chase after his sister.

She stood, and a startled laugh burst from her.

“Why are you laughing?” Shea smoothed his large hand the length of his torso.

“Nice sweater,” she said, chewing at her irrepressible grin.

“Don’t you like it?”

“It’s… uh… Is that a Unicorn?”

He looked down at the white and pink and yellow mess knitted onto his shirtfront.

“I think so?” His playful smile grabbed at her insides. “I have no idea.”

She stared, dumbfounded as, for one brief moment, the Shea she thought she’d lost forever stood laughing before her. “I’m sorry, but it’s hideous.”

He feigned offense. “I’ll have you know my baby girl picked this sweater out for me. I think it might be the most beautiful sweater in the history of all the sweaters.”

Isobel’s heart swelled. “You may be right about that.”

Just then, a boisterous cheer erupted and she caught a glimpse of Finn, a wide smile lighting up his handsome face, before the crowed closed in around him. The ruckus captured Shea’s attention, but he didn’t leave her side. Standing together, they watched their oldest son work his way through the gathering of his family and friends.

Ava engulfed him in a hug and Sophie fussed with his rumpled hair. A sheepish smile whipped color into his cheeks, and when he reached his uncles, he muttered something through one side of his mouth that set off a round of deep male laughter.

“I can’t believe we made that.” The warmth in Shea’s voice spread through her like a soothing balm.

She swallowed thickly. “I can’t believe it’s been eighteen years.”

Then, with a hitch of surprise, Isobel noticed the pretty girl at Finn’s side. She had straight, light brown hair and tilted, sea-green eyes, and she hung back awkwardly while the mob bathed Finn with their adoration.

Isobel glance at Shea. “Is that Sidney Shaw?”

A grim set to his mouth, he nodded.

“You like her?” Isobel asked in a low voice.

“I don’t know her well enough to have an opinion one way or the other.” Lines of worry bracketed his eyes and mouth. “Her dad was here last night.”

Finn leaned close to whisper something in Sidney’s ear. A shy smile curved her mouth, which heightened the color on Finn’s cheeks.

“What happened?” Isobel whispered.

“He got drunk, started a fight. I had to call the cops.” Shea’s voice sounded tight, strained. “I guess he lost his job last week and was taking it out on anyone within reach.”

Isobel’s stomach gave a wrench and her gaze clamped on Shea’s face. “Should we tell Finn?”

“I think we better. Soon.”