Page 79 of Blame it on the Bet
“Someday soon, you’re going to realize the mistake you’ve made,” I begin slowly and softly. “And you’ll feel bad about this moment, right here. What you’ve said, what you’ve done. And you’ll wish you had it all to do again. But you won’t, Hennessy. You won’t.”
Her cheeks are flaming red, and she looks as if she’d like to throw a bottle at me. When I turn to go, I’m half expecting the shattering of glass, bracing for it until I’m out the door and walking down the quiet street.
You’d think I’d be used to this by now. You’d think it wouldn’t bother me after all this time.
You’d think.
Chapter Thirty-Three
HENNESSY
By the time I get downstairs, Donovan has made his way in, and I smell fresh coffee and eggs coming from the kitchen. Sure enough, Father Romance is sitting at the bar reading his newspaper. He looks up and smiles when I walk out of the back of the pub.
“Good morning, Hennessey. Quite a tempest we’ve got going on out there, eh?” he says.
“Sure is,” I reply, trying to muster a normal tone. “I’m afraid it’s going to hamper our business today, though. And we really, really needed it to be busy for St. Patrick’s Day.”
“I know. The timing is less than ideal. But don’t worry, love, it will be fine. The Lord will provide,” he assures me. I feel the urge to dispute this statement, but I just don’t have the energy. Or the heart, for that matter.
Reading about all those people who were hurt by Bryan and his family made my blood run cold. How could I have been so very wrong about him? It doesn’t even seem possible that he’d be capable of such a thing. But there it was, in black and white.
“Eggs are up!”
I’m surprised to see that it’s Jameson who brings out Father Romance’s breakfast and not Donovan.
“Hey, what are you doing here?”
“I thought you might like a little help this morning. And since Bailey’s home from school today, she offered to watch Jackson.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I grumble.“It’s silly for you to trudge through this mess to get here.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” James says softly. “No need to get upset. We just thought it’d be a good idea for you to have some backup in case Bryan showed up again.”
“Bryan’s gone,” Donovan says as he comes out of the kitchen carrying a plate of toast. “Here, Father, I forgot to send out your whole grain, lightly buttered.”
“Thank you, son,” the priest says without looking up. “What do you mean he’s gone?”
“Uh, just that I saw him this morning. I was shoveling the driveway for Miss Lucy when I saw him put his suitcase in his car and drive off. I asked him where he was headed, but I guess he didn’t hear me. Looked as if he was going for good.”
I feel a weight on my chest, and it slams the breath from my lungs. I don’t know what I expected. I told him to go. He needed to go. So he went. Why should it matter?
They’re all peering at me curiously now.
“Did you know he was leaving, Henny?” Father Romance asks me slowly.
“I–I, uh, may have told him he should go,” I reply softly, hearing the catch in my voice and hating myself for it.
“Why on earth would you do that, child,” he asks, concern coming off him in waves. “I thought things were going so well between you. Why would you send him away?”
“No.” I shake my head and feel tears streaming down my face. “No, no. Bryan isn’t a good guy. He hurt people. Truitt isn’t even his real name,” I say, sounding more like I’m defending myself than accusing him.
Donovan slips back into the kitchen, clearly wanting to be out of this emotional mess. Father Romance, however, is sitting right in the thick of it.
“And do you believe this to be true?” he asks me, his dark, bushy brows furrowed.
“Well, it was there, in the article… He was charged with defrauding people out of millions of dollars,” I explain, going on to briefly recap the story I’d read, Father Romance and Jameson hanging on every word.
“How long ago did this supposedly occur?” he asks when I’ve finished.
