I snorted a shocked laugh and then clapped my hand over my mouth before I could completely embarrass myself. Joan’s smirk was back. She looked…more human somehow. Not quite approachable but not the Wicked Witch of the West, either.

She twisted and glanced at the couch behind her and then took a seat, smoothing her black skirt as she sat. “Let’s get to it. Ronan did what exactly? Why did you flee Ireland? It’s such a lovely country, and the people are so accommodating.”

I gaped at her, still overwhelmed by her recent revelations, but found myself talking regardless. “Nothing…really. You’re right, I completely overreacted.”

I proceeded to tell her about what had happened—the emails exchanged, how I’d kept the secret from him and he knew the whole time, how he’d told me he loved me but I hadn’t reciprocated. I felt myself deflate as I spoke. Obviously, I left out the heavenly kinky sex part and the more intimate details. When I was finished, I found my voice steady and calm but tired, recent events coming into distinct focus.

She nodded thoughtfully and paused after I finished my tale, surveying me with squinted eyes.

I watched her for a bit then volunteered, “I guess I’m worried that he won’t take me back. I mean, I made such a mess of things.”

“Well, he shouldn’t have emailed The Socialmedialite under false pretenses, though I certainly understand why he did it. That’s a gray area. Also, I understand why you didn’t tell him about your blog, but you shouldn’t have been such a ninny about your feelings.”

“But how could I tell him how I felt when I was lying to him?”

“Because the blog isn’t any of his business, that’s why. It is, in fact, your business. It’s how you make a substantial amount of your income. It’s not illegal, and your identity is a secret for obvious reasons. You weren’t lying to him. Has he told you about all the ways he makes money? About all of his investments? Certainly not. What a silly thing to expect.”

“Joan….”

“You know I’m right. But it’s neither here nor there since he does know. As I suspected would be the case, he doesn’t care.”

“What if I’m too late? What if he doesn’t want to marry me anymore? What if he won’t take me back?”

“Do you want to marry him?”

“Yes,” I answered without giving it much thought beyond how my heart swelled and danced and felt ready to burst.

She nodded thoughtfully. “Well, you’ll find out tomorrow. You and he are scheduled to attend the premiere of Accidental Assassin.”

I heaved a watery exhale, crossing my arms and letting my head fall to the chair behind me. “I’m so afraid.”

“There is nothing wrong with being afraid, Annie,” she said, standing and sighing. “But there is everything wrong with being only afraid.”

***

Everything happened as I feared it would.

Ronan slipped into the limo, his face blank, his eyes hooded as he settled into his seat. He then took stock of the interior of the limo, his gaze moving over me with no trace of interest. I recognized this look from our first night in Ireland, how he’d inspected me before the Sportsperson of the Year dinner, except this time it felt more permanent, less premeditated.

“Ms. Catrel.” He nodded at me. His tone wasn’t aloof. It was polite.

Ugh.

I twisted my fingers and tried to swallow the building lump in my throat. “Ronan, can we—”

Before I could finish my question, Beth opened the opposite door and poked her head in, her efficient gaze sweeping over both of us.

“Oh, good, Annie, you’re wearing the dress Joan picked out. Remember, at least three big kisses on the red carpet—at least—and hold hands the entire time, okay? Since the sudden separation in Ireland, you two really need to lay it on thick. Also, put these earrings on.” Beth handed me a velvet box.

Ronan seem to be watching our exchange with bored indifference.

At a loss, I opened the box and glanced at the contents. Within were diamond studs, at least a carat and a half each. Expensive but understated. They would have been perfect for me, except—

“She can’t wear those.” Ronan leaned forward, grabbed the box from my fingers, and passed it back to Beth, who was still hovering outside the limo.

“Why not?” Reluctantly, she accepted the box.

“Because her ears aren’t pierced,” he added as he settled back into his seat, looking irritated and impatient. “Time for us to go.”

Beth nodded, her eyes moving between us, then stepped away from the car and shut the door, leaving us in an odd, strangled silence. The car moved. We were on our way.

I stared at him.

He looked out his window.

I was afraid.

Fear clawed at my throat.

But for once, I wasn’t only afraid. I was hopeful.

“Ronan, can we talk?”

“What about?” He didn’t look at me. He sounded completely indifferent. I felt my hope shrivel a little.

“F-first, I n-need to apologize for…for s-so many things.”

“Apology accepted.”

I gritted my teeth and closed my eyes, resting my elbow on the window sill and holding my forehead in my propped-up hand. “Please let me say this; please let me—”

“There’s nothing to say, Annie. You left. Again. After I asked you to marry me. And you didn’t return my phone calls. That spoke volumes.”