Loving Irish Read online

  “Pretty,” Jenny whispered.

  “Yeah,” said Hallie from behind her. “Really pretty. And so much fun in the summer.”

  The sound of a truck pulling up in front of the cottage distracted her from Jenny, and Hallie turned to look out the little window beside the front door. Probably the realtor coming to check on her, or Brittany. She hoped for the latter. She wasn’t kidding about needing to see a friendly face.

  “Jen, I think Auntie Britt might be here. Want to say hello?”

  Though Jenny adored Brittany, she shook her head silently, captivated by the lake.

  “Okay.” Hallie looked at the sun sparkling on the water. She’d need to get Jenny swimming lessons as soon as possible. “Jenny, listen to me. You never, ever go near the lake without Mommy or another grown-up, okay? Nod so I know you heard me, baby.”

  Without looking at Hallie, Jenny nodded. Turning away from her daughter with a sigh, Hallie crossed the room and opened the front door.

  “Hallie!”

  “Britt!”

  In a hot second, Britt had her arms around Hallie in a legendary Brittany Manion–style hug, and Hallie closed her eyes, letting her weary body relax against her friend. She smelled like warm breakfast and expensive body wash, and Hallie breathed deep, relieved for the friendly face, the company, the hug, the love and support when she felt so uncertain and lost. Thank God for you, Britt.

  “Thanks for ccoming,” she said, her voice catching in a small sob as she rested her head on Britt’s shoulder.

  “Hey…hey, now,” crooned Britt, squeezing tighter. “It’s okay. It’s all going to be okay.”

  “I k-keep telling myself that,” said Hallie, “but my whole life is sh-shit.”

  She felt Britt giggle against her, and joined her friend, laughing through tears as they clutched each other.

  “Don’t laugh!” said Hallie.

  “I can’t help it,” said Britt. “You know I laugh when I don’t know what to say.”

  “I know,” said Hallie, blinking back more tears and sniffling. “I appreciate you coming, even if it’s to take pleasure in my horrible life.”

  “I take no pleasure in your horrible life,” said Britt, “and you may not thank me when…” Her voice trailed off.

  “When what?” Hallie opened her eyes, leaning back to look into her friend’s face.

  “You might not thank me when you see who I brought.”

  Hallie lifted her face, looking over Britt’s shoulder.

  And there they were—side by side, leaning against the truck parked in front of her dilapidated cottage: Rory and Ian Haven. Tall and strong with their trademark jet-black hair and green eyes, Hallie would have known them anywhere, after any length of time.

  She looked at Rory first, clean-cut and sheepish, raising a hand in hello, before sliding her eyes—slowly, so slowly—to his brother.

  Ian.

  Irish.

  She gasped so softly only Britt would have heard, but it was like all of the air in the whole world had been sucked away from her, and she grappled to fill her lungs as her eyes met his. A small sound escaped from her throat, and Britt squeezed her hard, forcing her to inhale a mouthful of air, but she didn’t look away. She couldn’t, even if she wanted to.

  His hair was pulled back and his black beard was full, but she saw him—the boy from her dreams, the shattered love of her life—in his eyes. She knew from Britt that he’d battled addiction in the years since their romance, and she could see it in the lines of his face, but the changes in him captivated her just as much as the familiar.

  She had loved him.

  She had loved him with a depth and intensity that was only ever rivaled by her love for Jenny.

  He straightened up as soon as she looked at him, his ivy-green eyes locking like lasers on hers. But as he took a step forward, she recoiled, drawing back from Britt and crossing her arms over her chest protectively.

  “The Havens,” she murmured, finally dropping Ian’s eyes and looking into Brittany’s.

  “I’m sorry,” whispered Britt, her face contorting into a cringe.

  In Hallie’s peripheral vision she could see the brothers, like statues, by the truck, but she refused to glance at them again. She wouldn’t give Ian the satisfaction of seeing her ogling him like a lovesick teenager, and anyway, she didn’t trust herself. She’d sworn off men forever, but it was still possible that after all these years, Ian Haven could be her kryptonite. She wouldn’t risk finding out by giving him the time of day.

  “Yeah, you are,” said Hallie, her lips pursed.

  “This place is a wreck,” said Britt, opening her arms to gesture at the overgrown garden and chipped paint. “Didn’t you tell me you had someone working on it?”

  She shook her head. “I thought I did. Turned out I didn’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I didn’t think I could afford my realtor’s contractor, Mr. Carlson, so I found this guy on the internet. He had decent reviews. He answered my call right away and faxed me a contract that looked legitimate…”

  Brittany’s face fell. “Oh, hon…what happened?”

  Hallie looked over her friend’s shoulder at the overgrown front walkway and broken gate, careful not to make eye contact with Ian or Rory. “Nothing. Obviously. I signed the contract, he took my deposit, and now I can’t get a hold of him. His number’s been disconnected. I checked the internet this morning to find his mailing address, and it’s like he never existed.”

  “Hallie,” said Brittany. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Me too. Just what I needed…more bad luck.”

  “Let me help.”

  Brittany Manion was an heiress—she had millions at her disposal. But Hallie had integrity, and part of the reason that Hallie and Britt had stayed friends for so long was that Hallie had never taken advantage of Britt. She’d never asked for a dime, and that’s how it was going to stay.

  “I can manage.”

  “How?”

  “I’ll…do what I can until Mr. Carlson can help me. He’s got an opening in his schedule in three weeks.”

  “Three weeks?” said Britt, shaking her head. “No. You can’t live here. Come and stay with me and Rory.”

  “In your love nest? No, thanks.”

  “Okay,” said Britt, like she’d almost expected Hallie to refuse her, “then I have another idea.”

  “Am I going to like it?”

  “Probably not.”

  Hallie took a deep breath. “Tell me.”

  Brittany looked over her shoulder at the Haven brothers. “Let them help.”

  Absolutely not. “No.”

  “They’ll work for free.”

  “No.”

  “Hallie, think of Jenny!”

  Hallie winced, flicking a glance at Rory before turning back to her friend. “I don’t care if Rory stays, but his brother isn’t welcome here.”

  Her friend scrunched up her nose, then grinned like she had a great idea. “Hey. I brought two folding chairs, a bottle of Prosecco, a jar of fresh-squeezed orange juice, and the biggest, best blueberry muffin you’ve ever seen for Little Miss Jenny. Forget about them. Let’s put the chairs in your crappy living room and have a mimosa. We can talk about my wedding while they take a look around. You won’t even know they’re here.”

  Right.

  But free help? She simply wasn’t in a position to turn it down.

  Twitching her lips, Hallie nodded once. “Fine. Thank Rory for me.”

  “Eeeep! Yay! I will.” Britt clapped her hands, turned around, and hurried back to the truck while Hallie, without meaning to, lifted her eyes to Ian.

  He was watching her intently, with a fierce expression on his face. In return, she narrowed her eyes, then turned her back to him and marched back into her cottage.

  Standing just inside the door, she took a deep breath, wishing her heart would stop racing.

  He just had to be built like some superhuman action hero, complete with imposs
ibly long, black eyelashes and the greenest eyes God had ever made.

  “Damn it,” she muttered. “You couldn’t make him just a little ugly? Some scars? Or a hunchback?” She shook her head. “Maybe he limps. Or has some disgusting flatulence problem.” Thinking about Ian walking around with a cloud of fart smell following him made her grin.

  “Who’s that?”

  Hallie looked down to see Jenny at the window, staring at the Haven brothers, who appeared to be getting a lecture from Britt.

  “Um, well, that’s Auntie Britt, of course, and…see the man in the white shirt? That’s Rory. You can call him Uncle Rory after the wedding.”

  “No, not him. Who’s that?”

  Pressing one stubby finger against the window, Jenny pointed, unmistakably, at Ian.

  “Him? Oh. He’s no one.”

  “He’s someone, Mommy,” Jenny insisted. “He has black hair…like me.”

  “Yours is dark brown.”

  “Who is he?” she persisted.

  Of course Jenny would notice Ian, the bane of my existence. Can nothing go my way?

  “His name is Ian. M-Mr. Haven. But really, baby, he’s no one. He’s just—he’s just Rory’s brother.”

  “See? He is someone,” said Jenny, turning to look up at her mother with a stern expression.

  Oh, man. I can’t win with you, kid.

  “Look!” said Hallie, changing the subject. “Here comes Auntie Britt. She has a muffin for you. Blueberry. Your favorite.”

  Britt swept into the cottage, carrying two folding chairs and a picnic basket, but dropped all of it to the floor and squatted down to give Jenny a bear hug. And to Hallie’s relief, Jenny went willingly into her godmother’s arms.

  “How’s my Jenny?” exclaimed Britt, showering the little girl with kisses. “Oooo! I missed you! I missed you! I missed you! And you smell like sweet sleep. You’ll be lucky if I don’t take a bite!”

  “No, Auntie Britt!” cried Jenny, dodging more kisses and giggling for the first time in days. “I’m not for breakfast!”

  Britt chuckled right along with her goddaughter before reaching into the basket and pulling out a muffin the size of Jenny’s face. “No…but this is!”

  “Yum!” yelled Jenny, grabbing the muffin and scampering off to sit with Luna on the porch steps.

  “No going near the water!” called Hallie before turning to her friend. “You really are the best.”

  “Forgive me for bringing Ian here?”

  “No,” said Hallie, her smile slipping as she picked up the two folding chairs and carried them to the center of the empty great room. “But I’m grateful for any help or advice Rory can give.”

  Britt gave her friend the side eye. “You know…I mean, you know Ian lives here, right? Next door? At Summerhaven. You might—” She shrugged. “—bump into him now and then.”

  “Not if I don’t want to,” said Hallie, unfolding the chairs. “He can live wherever he wants, Britt. It’s none of my business, and I don’t care.”

  “Much,” murmured Britt from behind her.

  Hallie chose to ignore her friend’s comment. Sure, she’d lost a bit of her composure coming face-to-face with Ian after ten years, but now that their first meeting was out of the way, she’d be fine. He was no one to her, just as she’d said to Jenny.

  They sat down side by side and Britt took out two champagne glasses, filling each with half wine and half juice. Handing one to Hallie, she asked, “What should we toast to?”

  “Something happy,” said Hallie. “How about…your wedding!”

  Britt beamed back at her, taking a teeny sip before putting her glass on the floor. “That’s all I can have.”

  “But you love—Oh, my God! Wait! Are you—Are you—”

  Britt nodded, her smile blinding. “Yep. Knocked up.”

  “Brittany! Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m getting married again. Baby on the way. New company Rory and I are starting together. My life…”

  “…is good,” said Hallie.

  “And yours…”

  “…sucks,” said Hallie with a self-deprecating chuckle. “But I’m happy for you.” She reached for Britt’s hand and squeezed it. “You don’t have to keep things from me.”

  “I know,” said Britt, reaching up to wipe away tears. “But I’m so happy, and you’ve been so sad. I didn’t want to add to your—”

  “Stop! I need to hear about good things. I swear! It gives me hope in a sea of despair,” she said.

  “Speaking of despair…have you heard from Sergio?”

  Hallie shook her head. “Nope. I think I told you that I talked to Catina? His sister? Yeah. That’s about as close as I’ve gotten to talking to him. At least he sent back the divorce papers quickly. I half expected him to try to get more money out of me before signing.”

  “Such an asshole!” exclaimed Britt. “How’s Jenny doing? She seems okay.”

  Hallie took another sip of her drink. “Yeah? Maybe for you, but not for me. She hates me.”

  “She’s just sad. So much change, so quickly,” said Britt. “She’ll come around.”

  “Her doctor said that I should find a way for Jen and Sergio to connect. Skype or something. I just don’t know if I can bear it.”

  “Maybe it would be a good job for a doting godmother?” Britt squeezed Hallie’s hand before letting it go. “If you won’t take my money, you’ll have to take this instead. Give me Catina’s contact info. I’ll track him down and set up a time for them to Skype. And I can sit with Jenny while she talks to him to make sure everything goes okay.”

  “You’d do that?” asked Hallie. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. In fact, please let me do it. I’d feel better if I could help.”

  Hallie nodded, saying a silent prayer of thanks for Brittany’s friendship. “You’ve always been there for me.”

  “Well, I love you, silly.”

  Hallie sniffled back some tears before shifting her glance to the porch, but Jenny, who’d been sitting on the steps a moment ago eating her muffin, had disappeared.

  “Where’s Jenny?” she said, placing her glass on the floor and standing up to get a better view of the porch and lake beyond. “Britt, did you see where she went?”

  “N-No. I…she was just there, wasn’t she?”

  “Jenny!” cried Hallie, crossing through the porch and stepping down onto the lawn. “Jenny? Jenny!” She turned to her friend as panic quickly set in. “Britt, she doesn’t know how to swim!”

  “Don’t worry. She’s only been gone for a minute.” Britt called from the porch steps. “Jenny? Where are you?”

  “I’m going to the lake,” Hallie yelled over her shoulder. “Will you check the front?”

  Running toward the dock and the small, caving-in boathouse, Hallie felt a sharp pang of terror. What if she’d fallen into the lake? Or wandered into the woods? There were bears and maybe wolves in these north country woods. Oh, God. Please, please let my baby be okay.

  “Jenny? Jenny!” she called. “Where are you?”

  A little face peeked out from the boathouse entrance. “Right here.”

  “Jenny!” Hallie shrieked, racing down the splintered planking of the dock to the boathouse and swooping her child into her arms. “I was worried. Baby, I told you not to go near the lake without a—”

  “But there was a growed-up here,” said Jenny.

  “Sorry we scared you,” said a masculine voice.

  Hallie lifted her eyes from Jenny to find Ian Haven standing in the boathouse doorway.

  “You,” she snarled.

  “Mommy, lemme go!”

  “What the hell were you doing with her?” Hallie demanded, trying to hold a wiggling Jenny closer.

  Ian raised his hands palms-up in a pacifying gesture. “Nothing. She must have seen me checking out the boathouse and wandered down to—”

  “Stay away from her!” Hallie cried. “From us!”

&nb
sp; “Stop, Mommy! Down!”

  The crease between Ian’s eyes deepened as he looked back and forth between raging Hallie and her howling, squirming daughter.

  “Hey,” he said, the familiar rumble of his voice making the hairs on Hallie’s arms stand up, “I didn’t mean any harm. I was just checking out the beams in the boathouse. I turned around and there she was. I promise you—”

  “Don’t you dare make me any promises!” hissed Hallie. “You listen to me: I don’t want you near my daughter! Do you understand me? If you so much as—”

  “Stop yelling at him!” Jenny screamed at her mother, the pitch so high and blood-curdling, Hallie stopped speaking midsentence, blinking at her daughter. “You’re yelling,” Jenny sobbed, still struggling to get away from Hallie. “Like you yelled at my papa and made him leave! I hate you! I hate you!”

  Hallie gasped in pain at the furious words, her arms loosening reflexively. Jenny used the opportunity to slide down her mother’s body and scurry back toward the house with Luna clutched tightly to her chest. The porch door slammed shut, and Hallie turned to Ian, so furious she didn’t trust whatever would come out of her mouth next.

  Ian put his hands on his hips, shaking his head back and forth. “This place is a mess. You’re in way over your head, Halcyon.”

  When people got shot on TV in slow motion, you saw them recoil inward, almost folding into themselves from the shock and pressure of the bullet. That’s how it felt to hear Ian Haven call her “Halcyon.”

  He was the only man in her life who’d ever used her full first name, and only then when they were…when they were…together.

  Kiss me, Halcyon.

  Halcyon, I love you.

  She stared at his lips, her memories rushing back like an assault: his full lips claiming hers, the heat of them sliding down the column of her throat, the way they pursed around the puckered buds of her nipples then skimmed lower to—to—

  She gasped at the vividness of the unwanted memory, lifting her furious eyes to his and saying, “Stay. Away. From. Me.”

  Then she turned away from him and ran back up to the house to check on her daughter.