Page 13 of Irish Betrayal

We spent more time learning about each other’s bodies this summer than on plants. Needless to say, we spent a ton of hours locked in his small office.

To be honest, I spend enough time studying at home, and yeah, I almost didn’t want to go to summer school this year, but Peter convinced me.

He said he’d never been more connected to someone than he was when he met me. I’m like his muse, I suppose.

Peter is handsome—not as handsome as Daniel, but no one could be—but he is good-looking.

I’m kind of embarrassed to write about some of the things we did, but it never went too far. And I am fourteen. Peter said I’m actually behind in learning what men like.

My friends haven’t said they do these kinds of things, but then I haven’t told them either, so I figure some things are just private.

He had me take my shirt off to see if my body had changed since last year. I was totally humiliated until he explained that most men don’t like women with such small breasts, and mine are small! But Peter prefers them just like mine.

He makes me feel as beautiful as a runway model, even at barely five feet and eighty-five pounds. It isn’t all woe is me—I’m gaining muscle from all the work I do outside for mom’s business, plus my own garden. I’ve got lovely lean muscles. I never knew how many until Peter traced them with his fingers.

I don’t ever want anyone to know, not even my best friends, but he kissed me, and I liked it. I don’t trust anyone as much as I trust Peter. He rubbed my chest. It was awkward, but he really liked doing that.

Peter undressed completely so that I could see what a man looks like. He didn’t ask me to touch him, but what can I say, the scientist in me was curious.

He reminded me that no other man would find my small body attractive like he did. He never wants me to be ridiculed and made me promise that I won’t do those things with anyone else.

I promised, even though as I touched his…thing, I imagined doing that to Daniel.

I rarely speak Daniel’s name because Peter gets so angry. He didn’t call or text me for a month, the last time I did.

If I thought Daniel would ever love me, deaf and scrawny, like Peter does—I would wait for him.

My biggest secret is that I’ll never love Peter the way I love Daniel.

My life is built on secrets. Plants are my only truth anymore.

And in case it wasn’t obvious, I’m never writing about myself again. I don’t like what I’ve become, even though it seems the trajectory of my life was ordained the moment I met Dr. Peter Samson.

seven

BLAIR

Blair had managed to avoid Daniel for weeks after…well, after they got each other off in her back garden—which wasn’t a euphemism for a sexual position or body part, it literally was her back garden, soil, stakes, hoes, and all.

Well, she’d only been able to avoid him because she’d been home visiting her family in Scotland for two weeks—avoided seeing him but not his messages. Those, she replied to with relish.

Blair had just arrived in Dublin after her holiday break and was meeting her friends for a quick lunch and catch-up session. Everyone was excited about their Christmas party and wanted to talk dresses.

“Better late than never,” Bébhinn teased.

“Five minutes!” Blair snapped back, raising her brows and opening her mouth wide in exclamation.

“Was it hard to tell your parents goodbye?” Gray asked.

Gray and Mags had come back to Dublin a few days before Blair. Gray and Ciar wanted their first Christmas with both kids to be quiet, so they celebrated early with her folks, Thomas and Josephine. Mags and Jonathan spent a week in Scotland with her parents, Aileen and Charles, and Christmas Day with the O’Faolains.

“Yeah,” Blair signed. “I won’t see them until the beginning of May, unless my mother has her way and makes Dad bring her for a visit.”

Blair had a feeling her parents wouldn’t be the only family to visit, which was proven true as soon as Mags said, “I already told Jonathan that I can’t be separated from you for that long. He said not to worry. Which means a trip to Oklahoma is in my future.” She grinned and did goofy jazz hands.

When Bébhinn said she wanted to go too, Mags reminded her in her typical Mags’ way, “Dagr won’t let you step foot on a plane, let alone take you out of the country while you’re growing a mini-Griffiths in your belly.”

“Pfft.” Bébhinn rolled her eyes and swiped her hand through the air like her precious, overprotective husband would never do such a thing.