In the Unlikely Event

“You said all great romance movies have a scene where the woman drives the man. Here’s an unscripted twist: our romantic, amazing, sweet, perfect movie was a parody. Bravo.” She claps, taking a little bow. “You won the Razzie for this one, Mal. It really was that bad.”

Then she takes out the napkin—our napkin with the contract—from her bag and rips it to shreds in front of me, throwing the pieces in the air and watching them float down like confetti.

“The contract was dumb. So were we. Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe it’s in my DNA to attract lying asshats. But if I have to thank you for one thing, Malachy Doherty, it’s for opening my eyes to the fact that Callum was just as big a douchebag as you are. Congratulations. You’re just as bad as—what did you call him? Shiny Boyfriend? Make sure you give him a call and invite him next time you’re on the prowl.”

With that, she slams the door in my face and leaves.

Rory

Still reeling from finding out my husband has a secret daughter, and that he promised his family he’d keep me away, I show up just in time for my emergency meeting with Father Doherty at The Boar’s Head.

He is already there when I arrive, twiddling his thumbs and glancing left and right, like he’s committing some sort of crime. When I slide into the booth, he stands up and stares at the table, hard.

“On one hand, it is highly frowned upon for me to socialize with women of your age, publicly or otherwise. Especially at a pub. On the other, I am deeply worried for your wellbeing in Mal’s house when both Elaine and Lara are in Tolka.”

“Which one is which?” I plop down on the wooden seat opposite to him, cradling my tall glass of water. I don’t mention that I will no longer be staying at Mal’s house.

“Elaine is Kathleen’s mam; Lara is Mal’s.”

I didn’t even know my mother-in-law’s name, and just found out she’d likely to stab me in the eye before shaking my hand. What a wonderful start to obviously long-term marital bliss.

I rub a drop of water on the table, back and forth, wondering how this day could possibly get any worse. Of course, I believe it can. Today hasn’t met a negative challenge it couldn’t conquer. I wouldn’t be surprised if a UFO kidnapped me on my way to the airport to perform a full rectal examination on me, sending me back to Earth with nothing but lubricated ass cheeks, anal scars, and a T-shirt that says “My Wife Went to Kepler-22b and All I Got Was This Lousy T-Shirt.”

“I’m guessing they both hate me.” I frown at my drink, because examining Father Doherty’s face is too painful.

He says nothing to that.

I should really get what I’m here for and move along. There’s a flight to New York in four hours, and I don’t want to miss it or I’ll have to stay another day.

Mal hasn’t kept something small from me. He kept an entire child, with personality and freckles and purple eyes and hobbies. And she’s my niece. My half-sister’s child. Why do people insist on hiding things from me?

Mom.

Father Doherty.

Mal.

Summer and Callum.

“Father?” I slant my head. “Is there anything more unholy than preventing justice? The truth is all around me. If I don’t get your version of things, I’ll get Ms. Patel’s. Or Maeve and Heather’s. Or Mal’s, eventually. We both know I’ll get a far worse version from any of them, or at the very least, not as accurate as yours.”

“I promised your—”

“Mother?” I arch an eyebrow, mustering the courage to lie to a priest. If I burst into flames right on the spot, I will only have myself to blame. “She told me her side of the story.”

“She did?” His eyes flare.

Bingo. They are in this together. I decide to run with the only thing I have. It’s a shot in the dark, but on the off-chance it’s a memory and not just a dream, I fire it out.

“Yeah. How she was here. How she ran with me.”

My heart is beating so hard and loud in my chest, I’m surprised he doesn’t hear it. Maybe he does, and he wants to spare me the embarrassment. It was just a dream. A nightmare of sorts. But it seemed so real.

To my surprise, Father Doherty plants his head inside his palms and bursts into tears—the gut-tearing sound of a mewling animal being ripped to shreds by a pack of coyotes.

“Please forgive us. All of us.”

“Tell me.” I lean down, careful not to touch him as I beg for more of his words. “Everything. Please. Don’t I deserve to know? There’s a chunk in my life—the first chunk, the most important chunk—that’s missing, and nobody here is telling me anything.”