Page 7 of Ruthless Claim

His expression is closed.

I excuse myself the first chance I get.

The ladies’ room is quiet and I stand at the marble sink and run cold water over my wrists.

I’ve been doing this since I was fifteen when the world gets too loud.

I look at my reflection.

You’re going to be fine. You’ve handled worse. You can handle this.

I’m not entirely sure I believe it, but the affirmation is part of the process.

The door opens and Emma comes in. She catches my eye in the mirror and stops.

“Oh,” she says, reading my face with those annoyingly perceptive green eyes. “That bad?”

“He,” I grouse, turning off the water, “is the most insufferable, patronizing, deliberately unpleasant person I have ever shared a room with. And I grew up with Leo.”

Emma’s mouth curves.

She comes to stand beside me at the mirror and touches up her lipstick. “He called you princess, didn’t he?”

I look at her, eyebrows furrowed. “He did. How did you know?”

“It’s his go-to,” Emma says, as she presses her lips together and admires her reflection. “When he wants to get under someone’s skin and he doesn’t want to expend too much effort doing it.” She drops the tube back in her clutch and shrugs. “It’s lazy, honestly. He can do much better when he’s motivated.” She pauses. “I say that as someone who has known him my entire life and loves him despite everything, so take it in the spirit it’s intended.”

The image of Cillian Brennan as a child is deeply strange to me and I push it away. “He stepped on my foot on the dance floor,” I nearly whine.

“You stepped on his foot first,” Emma corrects, arching a brow at me.

I pause. “He deserved it.”

“Oh, completely,” Emma agrees as she sits down on the nearby bench, groaning with relief. “Cillian deserves a lot of shit right now.”

I look at her sideways. “How are you this composed about him right now?” I ask because I genuinely don’t get it. “He’s—Emma, he chose Connor over you.”

“I know what he did,” Emma says quietly and I hate to see how my normally strong and feisty best friend seems to wither a bit. “And we’re—” She pauses, biting her lip as she drums her fingers over her large belly. “It’s complicated. He was my favorite person in that whole family for most of my life but then he told me at my wedding—” She stops and swallows heavily. When she continues her voice is steady, but I can hear what it’s covering. “I know why he did it, but it doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt.”

I think about her father at the bar, laughing with a guest, purposefully ignoring his own daughter, which then reminds me of Emma’s wedding. Connor didn’t attend because she’d made choices he couldn’t forgive. But then he’s here. At my wedding.

“Are you okay with your dad being here?” I ask before I can stop myself. “Has your mom even come up to you?”

Emma looks up at me and the hurt that flashes through those eyes pains me before she hides her feelings behind a wall. “We’ve all made our choices,” she says carefully and my heart clenches at how neutral she sounds. She’s protecting herself and I wish I could take her pain away. Emma doesn’t fucking deserve this.

“I can’t believe he’s not even said one thing to you,” I say angrily. “And your mom. How could she not talk to you when she came to your wedding and⁠—”

“Val,” Emma says gently and it stops me in my tracks. She stands up with a slight groan and touches my arm. She meets my eyes in the mirror. “I know. I’ve—I know. But tonight isn’t about me and my family drama. Tonight is about you.” She looks at me carefully. “And I’d rather talk about that if that’s okay.”

I take a breath and let the anger sit where it is, unresolved, because it’s not mine to resolve tonight. “He’s awful,” I say, getting back on subject. “Cillian. I really want to take a plate and smash him in the face with it.”

Emma makes a sound that is trying very hard not to be a laugh and mostly failing. “He is currently, yes. To be fair to him⁠—”

“I’d rather not be fair to him,” I respond, a little annoyed Emma is defending him. She’s supposed to be on my side.

“—he is also being forced into a marriage he didn’t choose with a woman his family has spent years treating as the enemy, so⁠—”

“So am I,” I point out. “And need I remind you that the reason for this feud is because your father killed my brother.”