Page 52 of Sins of Innocence

My common sense sure did.

I don't think this is what Kieran meant when he said to quit over text. I'm supposed to be circumspect. If my tirade makes Kenneth suspect that Mick's onto his political games, I won't have to worry about marrying a stranger.

My mom will be planning my funeral.

Ignoring the buzzing of incoming messages, I faceplant my forehead into my palm. Mother Mary, Joseph and an Archangel! What was I thinking?

Biting my lip, I make myself look at the most recent messages on my phone.

WWMG: I don't know what has gotten into you, Anne. You cannot speak to me this way. I am your employer.

Not anymore, you're not, I growl under my breath and find my fingers sending another text without permission from my brain. Or at least that part of my brain that has kept me silent in the face of this woman's provocation for so long.

Áine: My name is Áine, not Anne. Get your head out of your backside. YOU ARE NO LONGER MY EMPLOYER. You never were in the eyes of the IRS.

Áine: And just so you know, paying people under the table is not an excuse to pay so little.

Áine: People like you are everything I aspire for my children never to be.

Only one sentence in all caps. I should be proud of my self-control and she should be grateful for it.

After all, I didn't say she was nothing but a pimple on the face of humanity like I could have.

Because she is. Her and her entire snooty family.

WWMG: I will discuss this with my husband. How dare you call him a philanderer? I will let him bring you to your senses.

With zero desire to answer that message, I click onto the thread with Kiearan.

Kieran: On my way up.

Oh. Oh! How can he be here already? How close was he when he started texting? He must have gotten coffee from the shop a block over.

Springing out of bed, I rush toward my dresser for a bra. I don't sleep in one, but no way will my sleep tee hide the swaying of my heavy boobs, much less my nipples if they get hard around him like they did yesterday.

My hand is literally on the drawer I need when I hear the first quiet knock.

Crap! I don't want him to wake up the girls.

I'll just…just…I'll answer the door and leave him in the living room while I come back to mine and get dressed.

Right. It's a plan.

Not a great plan, but better than waking everyone else up with a louder knock if he thinks I don't hear him.

I rush to the door, deftly avoiding the creaking floorboard outside my mom's door and practically sliding across the carpet in my fuzzy socks in my hurry.

Unlocking the door as quickly and quietly as possible, I swing it open.

Kieran is standing a couple feet back from the door for a perfect vantage to identify him if I'd bothered to look through the peephole.

Maybe I'm just reading into it and he's not that considerate, but who wouldn't want to believe the stranger she's going to marry is at least a little thoughtful? Coffee for the whole family is more than a little thoughtful, right?

Troy was an indulgent dad, but he wouldn't have thought to bring me, much less our daughters, drinks from a coffee shop. Or anywhere else.

He didn't do takeout, but preferred going to restaurants. Not always easy with little ones, but he never seemed to get that. And when we ate out, we were always dressed to impress, me and the girls as much of an accessory as his Rolex.

Pushing aside the not so charitable thoughts, I step back and put my finger to my lips. "Shh. I don't want to wake mom and the girls yet."