Page 64 of Faithless Vows

She frowns. “I don’t understand. Why would you want to see me after everything?”

And how could she understand? I’d humiliated her. Let my pride turn me into a bastard who’d shamed her—the only woman I’d ever loved—at our own wedding reception. I’d made myself the last man on earth she’d expect to come looking for her.

“I came here for you, Alannah,” I say, pushing as much sincerity as I can into my voice. “I know I hurt you. But I came here to fix it, if you’ll let me.”

She blinks at me. “What?”

“If you’ll just let me try—”

“Ronin, you broke my heart.” I know I hurt her. God, I know. But hearing her say it still guts me. I pull against the ropes, desperate to go to her and take her in my arms, but they hold me fast. Her mouth trembles, and her eyes fill with so much sadness it makes it hard to breathe. “You can’t come here after what you did and talk like you can make everything right.”

I open my mouth, but she shakes her head like she can’t believe we’re even having this conversation. “How am I meant to forgive you, Ronin? After you left our reception with that woman? After you told me—after you told everyone there—that because she could please you so much better than I could, you’d be spending our wedding night with her?You humiliated me.”

I grab at the first thing I can think of that might make any of this better. “I didn’t sleep with her that night,” I rush out, and the second the words leave my mouth, I know I’ve made it worse.

Alannah goes still. “That night?”

I scramble for something—anything—to say, but the look on her face stops me cold.

“So you did sleep with her,” she says, her voice flat. “You cheated on me, Ronin.”

The words land harder than any punch I’ve taken from her grandfather or the others in this room. “Yes,” I say, because there’s no point trying to lie now. “I did.”

A tear slips down her cheek, and she nods to herself like I’ve just confirmed what she already knew. “How many times?”

Her question comes out so quiet I almost miss it. “Alannah—”

“How many times, Ronin?” she asks, her voice louder now. “Were there others?” Something in my face must give me away, because her eyes go wide. “Oh my God. How many women did you cheat on me with?”

I clear my throat, trying to force the words out. “There weren’t a lot.”

Her face crumples, and I wish I could take the words back the second they leave me. “Not a lot,” she repeats. “Not a lot.” A small, broken laugh slips out of her, and it makes me hate myself even more. “I loved you so much, Ronin, and all that time—” Her voice breaks. “I was just a fool to you.”

Loved.

“No. You weren’t the fool. I was. I was so fucking stupid, Alannah, but I love you.”

“Don’t,” she says. “Don’t sit there and try to tell me that I wasn’t.” She looks me straight in the eye. “Do you even know how much you hurt me?”

“Alannah—”

“No.” She cuts me off again, sharper now. “You don’t get to sit there and say my name like that after what you did.” Then the blood drains from her face. She stares at me like I’m a stranger. “That woman at the reception—when she said what she did about your stag night…” Her voice catches. “You cheated on me then too? A week before our wedding?”

My throat works, but no words come. In the end, all I can do is nod.

Her hand lifts to the bracelet again. “You didn’t answer me before,” she says. “How many times, Ronin? You said there weren’t a lot—but how many? Two? Three? Five? Ten? How many women were there?”

She keeps turning the bracelet around her wrist as she talks, and my eyes keep catching on the movement even as I try to listen. “Alannah—” I start again, but my gaze drifts backto her hand—to the bracelet, then her finger. Her bare finger. “Where’s your Claddagh?”

She looks down at her hand, then back at me, saying nothing.

“I know you left your wedding band behind,” I say, the words coming out harsher than I mean them to. “But where’s your engagement ring?”

All I can see is her bare finger. No Claddagh. Nothing left to tell the world she’s mine. Malachy’s voice comes back to me—talk of a match with that bastard Finn once I sign the papers. Her hand is already bare. Waiting for another ring. Waiting for someone else. I know I should keep my mouth shut. I know I should stop. But I can’t.

“I’ve been back home, living in the house that was meant to be ours,” I say, my voice rising now. “Waiting for you to come back. Hoping you’d give me one chance to make this right. And you’re here in Ireland with no ring on your finger, already looking for your next husband!”

That does it. She stands so fast the chair legs scrape across the floor. When she takes a step back, my gut drops.