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Chapter 7
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Lia
The car ride was a quiet, tense hour before we finally pulled through the wrought-iron gates of a sprawling estate.
The sight of the mansion hit me with a wave of bittersweet nostalgia. This had been my home after my parents died. My aunt and uncle had brought me here, sheltering me in this very house. It was as beautiful as I remembered—its Victorian charm timeless, with its grand façade and perfectly manicured gardens.
As the SUV rolled to a stop in front of the main doors, I spotted my aunt and uncle standing at the bottom of the steps, waiting. My chest tightened, and my eyes began to water as emotions I hadn’t prepared for washed over me.
Before anyone else could move, Uncle Seamus pulled open my door. His large frame and familiar presence instantly calmed some of the unease I’d been carrying.
I didn’t hesitate. I jumped out and threw my arms around him, holding on tightly.
“My child,” he murmured softly in Irish, his voice low and full of affection.
I pulled back, looking up at him with a smile. His weathered face, lined with years of experience and quiet strength, hadn’t changed much.
“It’s been three years,” he said in English this time, his Irish accent thick and warm, wrapping around his words like a comforting embrace.
I nodded, feeling the guilt twist in my chest. “Too long,” I replied softly.
His eyes softened, and I could feel the weight of his unspoken emotions. This was home—no matter how far I had run or how much I had tried to forget.
"Are you alright?" Uncle Seamus asked, his voice steady but filled with an undercurrent of something I couldn’t quite place.
I nodded, though my uncertainty lingered. There was something in his eyes, a flicker of emotion that made my stomach twist. It was starting to feel like there was a secret being kept from me, something just out of reach.
“She’s my niece, Seamus!” Aunt Charlotte announced, stepping between us with a theatrical flourish.
Aunt Charlotte was my mom’s older sister, and she hadn’t changed a bit. She was still as elegant and polished as I remembered, her brown hair styled perfectly and her green eyes sparkling. In contrast to my papa’s hazel eyes, hers seemed brighter, sharper. Petite and always impeccably dressed, she looked like she had stepped straight out of a 1980s catalog for housewives.
“Oh, Cordelia! I missed you so much,” she exclaimed, pulling me into a warm hug.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Auntie, I was on the other side of the country, not the world.”
“Yet you didn’t visit—or let me visit you,” she said, pulling back just enough to look me in the eyes.
The guilt rose in my chest, heavy and unrelenting. I wanted to apologize, but what would be the point? We both knew the truth. Aunt Charlotte had always been perceptive, and I suspected she’d understood why I needed to leave. I also suspected she’d been the one to persuade Uncle Seamus to let me go.
Before the weight of the moment could settle, Uncle Seamus turned his attention to Aiden, who had quietly stepped up beside me.
“Aiden, thank you for bringing Cordelia home. I knew you were the right person to ask,” Uncle Seamus said, his tone warm but commanding.
“It wasn’t a problem,” Aiden replied smoothly, his expression unreadable.
But when his eyes flicked to me, they said something else entirely. It felt like he was silently telling me that it was a problem—and that I was the problem.
Aiden Kavanagh didn’t need many words to speak volumes. His silences could cut sharper than anyone else’s anger.
“Holy f**k, Lia! b***h, you could have told me you were coming back!”
Moira’s loud, unfiltered voice broke through the tension as she sprinted down the steps, her arms thrown wide to embrace me.
“Language,” Uncle Seamus snapped, giving her a stern look.
Moira ignored him entirely, grinning as she wrapped her arms around me. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too, M,” I said softly, the emotion rising in my chest becoming harder to control.
I barely had time to steady myself when another voice boomed from behind Uncle Seamus.
“You better have missed me the most, cuz.”
Ronin appeared, larger than life. Somehow, in three years, he had grown even more massive. At 6’5” and built like a fortress, Ronin’s broad shoulders and muscular frame were almost intimidating. His dark hair and sharp green eyes only added to his imposing presence, but the warmth in his expression softened the edges.
Moira rolled her eyes dramatically. “Please, you’re not that special. Unless you count being in a zoo—then people would pay to watch the gorilla stomping around our house.”
“Moira!” Aunt Charlotte and I scolded in unison.
Ronin ignored her entirely and pulled me into a tight hug. He leaned down and whispered, “It’s good to have you back home. I know how tough this is for you, kid.”
His words broke something inside me. The dam I had been holding up for far too long finally gave way, and the tears spilled over.
Ronin had witnessed all of it—my foolish infatuation, my relentless pursuit of something unattainable. He had warned me time and time again, but I hadn’t listened. If I had, maybe I could have avoided the heartbreak. Maybe I could have saved myself from the self-loathing and the embarrassment that had followed me ever since.
But three years was a long time. Enough time to change anyone.
And I had changed. I wasn’t in love with Aiden Kavanagh anymore.
Not that I had ever truly been in love. It had been nothing more than infatuation—an obsession with the mysterious, stoic man who had saved me once. That was all it had ever been. And that’s all it would ever be.
“Ehm,” a throat cleared behind us.
Oliver.
I had completely forgotten about him.
God, he was going to be so pissed about it later.
Since the gallery, it felt like Oliver had become a waste of time and energy—more of a burden than anything else. I hadn’t felt like this before, and I refused to acknowledge that it might have something to do with the man standing next to me.
“Who is this?” Uncle Seamus asked, his voice sharp as his gaze shifted to Oliver.
“Cordelia’s boyfriend, sir. It’s nice to finally meet you. Cordelia has said such nice things about you,” Oliver said, his British accent suddenly thicker than usual.
I heard Moira snort loudly beside me, and I shot her a glare. She just shrugged, entirely unbothered.
Oliver stepped forward, holding out his hand to my uncle, who didn’t even glance at it. Instead, Uncle Seamus turned to Aiden, who gave him a slight nod.
Only after that did Uncle Seamus finally shake Oliver’s hand, his expression neutral. “Why are you here?” he asked bluntly.
Oliver looked taken aback by the question and stuttered, “Well, I—I thought it was time I met Lia’s family.”
“You did?” Uncle Seamus asked, raising an unimpressed brow.
“Yes, sir,” Oliver continued, his words coming faster now. “I’ve heard so much about you and your company. You’re an inspiration.”
I cringed inwardly. Oliver didn’t seem to realize no one was buying what he was selling. In fact, he was having the exact opposite effect.
“Have you now?” Uncle Seamus replied, his tone making it clear he wasn’t impressed.
Oliver faltered for a moment, clearly confused by the lack of enthusiasm. Then he tried another approach.
“It’s good to see you again, Moira,” he said, attempting to sound familiar.
Moira’s response was immediate: she flipped him the middle finger without even blinking.
There was a beat of awkward silence, the tension stretching uncomfortably, before Aunt Charlotte finally spoke, her voice warm but firm. “We can have this conversation inside. Come on, everyone.”
As the group began to move toward the house, I turned to thank Aiden for the ride, but he was already walking up the steps as if he belonged here.
He wasn’t leaving.
Couldn’t I catch a break today?
- Writer
