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  “So,” he began, his audience rapt before him, “my half-sister is Mia and she’s a hoot. You’d all love her. First, because she’s my new family and you kinda have to, and secondly, because she’s funny and super smart. And, Mum, you know the way she totally ignores all the digs her grandmother makes at her for not being conventionally pretty? Yeah, you’d all like that about her, too.”

  And he was off. The adults in the room caught each other’s eye every so often as Toby innocently related a conversation or scenario that had occurred between Elena and Mia, and their attention would then swivel back to Toby, eager to hear the rest. He was a master story-teller. Caro watched, proud and happy that her son was so well adjusted that he was able to laugh at the antics of his new family. But her heart was breaking that here he was, thirteen years old, and only now knowing them. The guilt lay heavy on her shoulders.

  All. Her. Fault.

  “It’s not your fault, you know,” Dev whispered to her as he crouched down next to her chair. “You tried. You made the attempts to tell Toni and it was he who refused to acknowledge you and Toby. Not the other way around. You need to let that guilt go.”

  Caro inclined her head at him. “Why do you think I feel guilty?”

  “Because you’re his mother. And a bloody amazing one too, from day one. If you were to think for one second you hadn’t done everything for that boy, you’d be beating yourself up inside. So stop. It’s not on you – it’s on Toni.”

  Dev’s support was touching but it didn’t fix anything.

  “Yeah, well I can’t fix that Toni’s dead and I certainly can’t fix that he has another family, a preferred family, so I guess I’m going to have to learn to, as you say, let it go.” She rubbed his arm. “Thanks,” she said. “I’ll really try. I’m just glad it’s all out in the open now. It’ll make going back easier, somehow.”

  “Attagirl.” Dev stood and tousled her hair. “Right,” he announced to the room, “I need to talk to my groomsman about his duties and I believe you ladies have some bridesmaid dresses to ooh and aah over.”

  “We do indeed!” Ali jumped up from her prone position on the couch and yanked Caro upright. “Let’s go talk weddings!”

  As the four women hurried from the room, Caro turned back and saw the huge grin on Toby’s face as Dev officially asked him to be part of the wedding party.

  Frosty blue sky was the perfect backdrop for wedding photos, Caro thought as the guests milled around getting organised for the group shots. The ceremony had been perfect – the small local church adorned with flowers, stunning music – a mixture of classical pieces in Latin, a cello soloist that would melt stone and some modern favourites of Frankie’s and Dev’s. The priest was a friend of Patrick’s and managed to hit the right note of humour, joy and tenderness – a rare enough feat.

  They were now all gathered in the chilly courtyard of a beautiful hotel in County Wicklow, once a stately home with all the garden and design features to create the perfect setting. Caro gritted her teeth slightly. If she said the word perfect in relation to this day, even in her mind, one more time, she’d go batshit crazy.

  “Isn’t it perfect!” a passing guest asked rhetorically.

  At least Caro hoped it was rhetorical – that woman with the massive feather bobbing next to Caro’s face wasn’t getting a reply. Caro pasted a wide smile on her face and turned to gaze at the perfect happy couple. And Christ, they looked bloody perfect and unbelievably happy.

  And Caro was glad for them, truly, but she hadn’t expected to feel this “off”, today of all days. She adored her brother and Frankie was everything a best friend could be. So, Old Misery Boots just better snap out of it, she thought as the flash went off again.

  Frankie was draped in shell-pink velvet – who on God’s earth, other than her, could carry that off? It was an off-the-shoulder, long-sleeved gown, fitted tightly to just below the waist and then simply fell in a heavy curtain of incredibly soft waves of fabric. Her boyish crop showed off stunning pink diamond teardrop earrings and a single matching diamond about her slender neck. Tiny sparkles were nestled in her hair, only visible as she turned a specific way to the light. She carried a simple bunch of white marguerite daisies tied with ribbon and God knows how much it must have cost to get them in the depths of winter. She was perfect, Caro surmised, and she deserved this day so much.

  Oh shit.

  One stupid tear fell, quickly followed by another. Caro dug around in her bag for her tissue as she and Ali were called to join the bride and groom for another photo opportunity. She smoothed her dress, a deep shade of raspberry in a self-printed brocade, almost the same style as Frankie’s but ballet-length, slightly above the ankle. She and Ali were dressed in the same style but Ali’s dress was a different tone of raspberry, a creamier version, which suited her short blonde spikey haircut and dramatic eye make-up. Caro had kept her own hair loose, preferring it to the more formal updo the hairdresser had tried to persuade her towards. For some reason Caro had stood firm, needing to feel as much like her old self as possible on this auspicious day.

  She joined her mother and sister for the all-girls picture and knew, as she caught a delighted smile from Frankie, that this photo would be a keeper.

  The meal was everything that was expected and the speeches were of the equal opportunity variety – equal quantities of tears and laughter. There wasn’t a dry eye when Dev spoke about his devotion to his bride from the age of fifteen and when she responded it seemed, for a moment, that Devlin Fitzgerald might actually cry.

  Flynn’s speech lightened the mood considerably. Not commonly known for his humour – his was the more sarcastic version, normally – he dragged out a few classic memories from their collective childhood that had everyone, even those not present at the times of the incidents, hooting in laughter. It was bloody perfect.

  “Do you think the dancing will start soon?” Ali tossed back the last of a glass of champagne and promptly swiped another from a passing waiter.

  Caro raised her brows. “Hey, steady on, sis, the night is still young. I don’t want to be scraping you off the bedroom floor later.”

  To help her sister out, as she felt she ought, she deftly took the glass from Ali’s hand and took a drink herself.

  “I know your game!” Ali declared. “And get your own poison.”

  But she let her elder sister sip it anyway. Caro turned towards Ali, suddenly remembering something their mother had said.

  “Hey, are you really going to star in a TV show? Like, really? What happened to the restaurant? Christ, Al, I leave the country for a few months and everything changes!”

  “Yeah, all true,” Ali said, “but it’s too long a story to go into now. I’ll fill you in tomorrow.”

  Ali took the glass back and sipped as she tracked the movements of a certain gentleman across the ballroom.

  “Who is that?” Caro asked. “I’ve noticed you watching him but I don’t recognise him at all. Do you know who he is?”

  The man in question was tall and broad-shouldered with very dark hair and a stern, serious expression on his face. Undeniably handsome, he nevertheless looked rather unapproachable.

  “Yeah, I kinda know him. He’s a cohort of Flynn’s – I’m not sure what the hell he’s doing here but I’ve met him a few times. Briefly. It didn’t go well. He’s a surly, silent bastard but Jesus, I’ve the hots for him. I mean, look at him!”

  Caro looked. Yes, she could see the appeal. He was good-looking in the strong, silent-type way. But she worried for her sister, who didn’t always make the best choices when it came to men.

  “Be careful, Al,” she said. “Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

  “I’ve got it,” Ali replied, “no worries. He’ll be putty in my hands, metaphorically speaking, before this night is over.” She tossed a grin at Caro, determination and intent in her eyes. “There are some pretty hot guys here tonight. I didn’t realise Dev had such classy friends – or maybe they just scrub up well!” She
laughed. “Oh, good, the band’s starting. I’ll go stake my claim.”

  She took a step to the side but bumped into another tall, handsome man standing behind her.

  “Yikes,” she whispered not too quietly to Caro, “if I hadn’t got my eye on the surly bastard I might have to go for this one. Serious eye candy!” And spotting another errant waiter, she headed off in pursuit.

  Caro sighed. Too many handsome men made her think of only one handsome man. She felt the tingles feather up her arm mere seconds before the voice sounded low and husky in her ear.

  “Caroline.”

  Chapter 19

  Caroline.

  Christ, she looked gorgeous.

  Nick spotted her literally across a crowded room and couldn’t take his eyes off her. She glowed. The dress colour made her creamy skin seem luminescent. Her dark hair swung naturally about her neck and she was obviously having fun with the other bridesmaid. Nick knew, by default, the other woman was Caroline’s sister. She was pretty stunning herself in an angular, offbeat way, but it was their closeness that was attractive to the onlooker, the natural, easy way they had with each other.

  Uncomfortably aware that his stomach was knotted and his heart was thudding pretty rapidly, Nick crossed the room, keeping his gaze trained on Caroline. Thank God for Byrney and her detective skills. She was a whiz of a PA and deserved a raise.

  Another one.

  The details of this wedding had been lost on Nick, but Caroline and Toby had happily shared information with Byrney. All Nick knew, until the previous evening, was that Caroline’s brother Dev was getting married to a woman named Frankie. Where and what kind of affair it was to be was, to his mind, irrelevant and not his business.

  That changed when he finished reading Toni’s journal. Actually, it had begun to change when Nick was in Milan and found himself missing Caroline. He’d decided then he was going to make a stop in Dublin while she was there and arrange a meeting. Now, he was also determined to meet her family – and what better way than to crash her brother’s wedding?

  One of the joys of being well known in the hotel business was that you got privileges – big ones. He’d procured a suite in this hotel with one phone call, probably dislodging someone else, but hey, he was getting desperate to have a proper talk with Caroline and was more than prepared to pull as many strings as possible to get that to happen.

  And when he saw the full name of the bride and realised who she was, his day was made.

  “Caroline.”

  She spun around, blue eyes widening in shock and disbelief. Her mouth formed a perfect “oh” and he barely resisted leaning in to kiss those pink lips.

  “What the . . . ?” she gasped. “What are you doing here? How did you get in? Did you just crash my brother’s wedding?” She grasped his arm and began tugging him towards the foyer. “Nick, seriously, you can’t be here. What am I saying? How the hell are you here?”

  “I heard Francesca Jones was here and felt I should pay my respects,” Nick said.

  “Seriously? You came to meet Frankie? Are you nuts? She doesn’t want to be disturbed by crazed fans on her wedding day, you moron!”

  Caroline was still tugging but his feet were firmly planted and he was an immovable force.

  “I’m not going anywhere till I meet her and then the only place we’re going is to the bar for a long-overdue talk. And a drink. I could really do with a Scotch. It’s been a long day. Better make it a double.”

  Caroline shook her head at his stubbornness and looked about wildly, presumably to catch the eye of security – of which there were many, it being a celebrity wedding and all.

  “You’re insane. I need to get you out of here.” Caroline opened her purse and reached for her mobile phone.

  Nick took it from her and put it behind his back.

  “Just bring me to Miss Jones and I’ll go quietly,” he said.

  She was about to snatch the phone back, when her eye was distracted.

  “Oh, no,” she groaned and he turned to see the happy couple walk hand in hand in their direction.

  Suddenly, a delighted cry pierced the air.

  “Nicky!” And a whirlwind of pink velvet threw herself into Nick’s waiting arms.

  Nicky?

  I’m in an alternative universe, Caroline thought as the strangest scene unfolded before her eyes. Frankie was enveloped in a bear hug, and she and Nick were practically squealing like teenagers with obvious delight at seeing each other.

  That bastard had led her on. He would pay.

  “If you wouldn’t mind releasing my wife?” Dev’s sardonic voice broke into the reunion and the two pulled apart.

  Frankie turned to Caro with a beam on her face.

  “Look who’s here!” she exclaimed.

  Stating the bloody obvious, Caro thought meanly.

  “Look, indeed,” she said, dry as the Sahara.

  “Oh my God! We haven’t seen each other for . . . what, Nick, five years?”

  “About that, sweetheart, and way too long at that. I didn’t realise Devlin’s bride was your beautiful self.”

  “Jesus, this is way too complicated,” Dev muttered. “I need alcohol. Come on, let’s grab a strong one.”

  He stuck his hand out, introducing himself to Nick, and Frankie wrapped her arm around Caro’s shoulders as they trailed after them.

  “Oh! this is so exciting,” she practically cooed. “I’d no idea your Nick was my Nick! Oops! I think I’m a bit tipsy!”

  “Come on, Dev has the right idea. Now I need a drink,” Caro muttered grimly.

  They made their way to the bar where two cocktails, complete with candy canes in honour of the season, awaited them. What it all boiled down to, Caro discovered, was that Nick and Frankie knew each other from New York. They’d dated briefly when one of his buildings was in a shoot of one of her films and a wall had to be removed, but not without permission from the designer slash architect, or some such crazy story.

  Whatever. They knew each other.

  Caro felt slightly sick. She’d slept with one of Frankie’s cast-offs. Actually, she felt very sick.

  “Excuse me. Ladies’ room.” And she headed stage left, so to speak.

  Unfortunately, Frankie leaped up in delight and followed her.

  “Isn’t this great? We both know Nicky!” she gushed, all blushing bride and glowing with love and perfect happy-ever-after sparkles.

  Yeah, great. Terrific.

  God, I’m a bitch.

  Caro closed the bathroom door behind them and locked it. She enfolded Frankie in a hug and held on tight.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Frankie patted her back and mumbled, “S’okay.” She hiccupped. “Eh, what are you sorry for? Am I missing something?”

  Caro let go and rested her hands on the soft fabric of Frankie’s sleeves.

  “It’s Nick. I didn’t know you and he . . . that he was your ex. I really didn’t know who he was when we, you know, hooked up.”

  Jesus! She sounded like a freaking teenager, explaining herself to her mum.

  Frankie looked puzzled for a moment and then slapped her hand over her mouth as understanding dawned.

  “Oh no. No, no-no-no. You’ve nothing to be sorry for, darling! Nick and I never, you know, did the nasty, burned up the sheets or whatever. God, no!”

  Perversely, Caro was curious, marginally affronted, even.

  “Why the fuck not? He’s gorgeous! Handsome, smart, hot as Hades. And amazing bedroom skills! What’s not to covet?”

  “Oh, we just never clicked. Not that way. He’s a good guy, though, and . . . wait, is he? I mean really? Amazing, huh?” She grinned and then her mouth wobbled. “Oh, you’re the best sister ever. You didn’t want to poach.” And two large tears slid symmetrically down her face.

  God, could Caro never catch a break?

  Frankie even cried beautifully, perfectly! She laughed and gave her sister, now for real, lawfully and everything, another quick hug.

&nbs
p; “Thanks for telling me. I just didn’t want to be stepping on toes. And yes, I know you’re an old married woman now, but still.” She rubbed her hands up and down the dress sleeves again. “Wow! this fabric really feels amazing,” she said apropos of nothing.

  “I know, right?” Frankie agreed. “Great for snuggling into!” And she winked at her friend-now-sister as they unlocked the bathroom door.

  Caro’s stomach settled once more, and they headed back to the men.

  “How did you do it? Get here, I mean,” Caro finally asked.

  They were sitting side by side, shoulders touching, on a large couch in one of the smaller drawing rooms at the hotel. A fire burned brightly in the grate and other than one small lamp in the far corner, the flames were the only light in the room. Nick held an almost empty glass of Scotch and Caro had her fingers loosely laced on her lap in front of her. She wanted to touch him so badly that if she released her hands, she just knew they’d be all over him in an instant.

  They’d sent the bride and groom back on the dance floor and Nick had simply guided Caro down the corridor until he found an empty room. The door was closed and they were quite alone. It was an odd feeling of anticipation and dread that skitted through her – which was stronger, she didn’t care to analyse.

  “Byrney, of course,” Nick said. “She tracked down the hotel based on the information she already knew and then booked the flights. She’s here too, you know. And Vito.”

  “Here?” Caro was incredulous.

  Nick laughed. “No, not here, here. Dublin. She decided to come visit some relatives and Vito came to the conclusion that I needed him with me. He’s probably right. I usually do.”

  “Huh,” Caro said in obvious understanding. “I like Byrney,” she said, “and Vito. And I think they like each other, too.”