Page 28
Fionn says something to Eilish then, too low for the table to hear, and she gives him her best Kinnane smile that would make harder men than him underestimate her.
This is really happening.
While they continue to talk, my chest tightens, and suddenly I’m just a helpless bystander watching the unthinkable happen.
I set my napkin beside my plate and rise. “Excuse me.”
Eilish glances up. “You okay?”
“Just need the loo.” I push my chair back and leave the table.
The downstairs bathroom sits at the end of a narrow corridor paneled in dark wood and lit by a single brass sconce.
Inside, it smells of orange blossom soap, expensive candles, and old pipes hidden behind pretty walls.
I bolt the door behind me, set both hands on the marble sink, and take deep breaths. After a few moments, I shove my fingers under the cold water.
When I look up, the mirror reflects a woman who knows better than to lose her head over a Harrington who’s set to marry her only friend.
All I have to do is get through lunch, and then I’ll be back on the yard in my own territory. Far away from the cocky bastard.
I dry my hands, fix my cleavage, and open the door. The moment I step into the hall, Fionn’s waiting with his back resting against the opposite wall, arms folded across his chest.
I stop with one hand still on the handle. “Is stalking the guests a special engagement lunch service?”
He checks his cufflinks, not looking at me. “You like running away, don’t you?”
“Are ya disappointed I left?”
“Do I look disappointed?”
“It’s hard to tell with your face,” I say, tilting my head. “You always look blank, like the lights are on in that big head of yours but nobody’s home.”
I shut the bathroom door behind me, because standing half inside makes me look cornered, and I’d rather choke on holy water than give him the satisfaction.
His mouth curves, slow enough to make me regret watching it. “I like to keep people guessing.”
I roll my eyes. “How mature.”
The corridor seems narrower when he pushes off the wall, though he doesn’t come any closer. He knows how much space to leave so we appear civilized.
“You left fast,” he says.
“I needed air.”
“No.” His gaze moves over my face with irritating patience. “You didn’t like how I made your best friend smile.”
I prop my hands on my hips. “I was trying not to throw up in my mouth while everyone pretends it’s a love match.”
“It doesn’t have to be love to be useful.”
I feign a gushing gasp, pressing my hand over my heart. “Oh, Fionn, that sentiment will look delightful on the wedding invitations.”
He slides a hand into his pocket. “Will you wear black to the wedding as well?”
“If she chooses black as the color for her bridesmaid then yes, Fionn, I’ll wear black.”
His brows drift up. “Aren’t you too old to play bridesmaid?”
