I can’t do it. I bloody can’t fucking do it and I know it.
I power my phone completely off, as Mac steps out of the car and reaches for my hand.
The wedding’s beautiful, the music perfect. Fran looks a picture, but when we see her up close, she’s got heavy circles under her eyes and she looks withdrawn.
“Does Fran look okay to you?” I ask Islan, concerned.
Her brow is furrowed in confusion, and she shakes her head. We look over to Paisley, but both of us blink in surprise to see Paisley’s dancing with her bodyguard and she actually looks like she’s enjoying herself.
Mac scowls. “Is it me or are they too bloody close?”
I snort. “Mac, she’s a legal adult, and you boys were the ones that made her come with her hot bodyguard.”
He swings his gaze to mine. “Did you say hot?”
“Aye,” I say, and Islan laughs out loud. “He’s bloody hot. I don’t blame the lass. Probably the most action she’ll get all year with you lot on her arse.”
Mac’s jaw unhinges, and Islan hoots with laughter. “You tell him, Bryn. My God, the look on his face.” She’s still laughing as she heads to the bar. “Get you a drink?”
I shake my head.
Mac gently brushes his fingers across the back of my neck. “Remember, sweetheart. Remember to behave yourself.”
I squirm. “Of course.”
The texts from my father plague me, his ultimatum haunting me.
What does he mean? What will he make me do?
Oh, God.
I have to leave. I have to get away from here.
I don’t know what I’ll do.
Chapter 15
Mac
I love dancing with her. I love the way she fits in my arms, the way she follows my lead. I even like the romantic feel of the music playing, the candles flickering on the tables. She’s dressed beautifully, her dress highlighting her curves, her hair piled on her head like a queen.
I promised Leith I’d keep an eye on the girls, but they’re fine. They’ve had a few drinks each, but we’ve got a ride to take us home, and they look like they're enjoying themselves.
Everyone is.
But my mind is still on what happened last night, back at my family home, and with Bryn.
As I dance with her, as I hold her in my arms and swing her around the dance floor, I know I can't betray her. It would be better for me to break up with her, to really ruin our relationship altogether, than for me to hurt her.
I don't care if I need to get vengeance for what her father did. Maybe he’s accepted us now, but if so that has more to do with his not being willing to deal with retribution from us than anything. Does he think if we’re friendly, he won’t have to deal with the aftermath of what he’s done?
“Mac, are you alright?" Bryn asks.
“Fine, why?”
“You seem… distant. Preoccupied. Like something’s on your mind.”
I nod. “Aye. Last night was unpleasant, is all.” This isn’t a lie. “You know what I do for work. You know sometimes we’re not given a choice with what happens.”
“Aye.”
But the words of her bodyguard haunt me, his warning and admonition. Is she planning on betraying me?
What if she is a spy?
What if her intentions aren't what they appear? How can I even blame her for that, when my own aren't?
I don't know what I'm supposed to do. So for now, I spin her around the dance floor. For now, I lean down and brush my lips against her cheek, watching the way she flushes. For now, I dance with her, holding her to me as if she's everything. Jesus, she is.
“I still think Fran doesn’t look so good,” she says, frowning.
“I think she looks fantastic,” I say. “You did a crackin’ job with that dress, sweetheart.”
“Thank you,” she says distractedly as we sit down next to Islan. “But that isn’t what I mean. She looks so gorgeous, she could grace the cover of a bridal magazine. Everything looks perfect. But there are dark circles under her eyes, and I don't think I've seen her smile the entire day.” She shakes her head. “Maybe it's just in my head. I guess I'm imagining things, she just looks really upset.”
“Can't say I'd be too happy marrying that bloke,” I say under my breath. God, the lad’s scrawny, and there's something about him that I don't trust. “How did she meet him again?”
“They met online,” Islan says with a frown, looking at them. “I think you’re right, she looks like something’s eating her up. What on earth is it? I’m going to go check.”
She stands up and walks over to Fran, head held high.
“Is there nothing she won’t do when she sets her mind to it?” Bryn asks.
“Nope. She was bloody awful when she was a teen. Got into it ourselves a time or two.”