Weeks later, when she agreed to meet with him to talk things out, he promised he would change. That she was everything to him. She gave him one last chance, saying to herself that if he showed any signs again that she would be out of there. She wasn’t going to be accused of things she didn’t do… But then, days later, she found out she was pregnant. A dark shadow passed over his eyes when she finally plucked up the courage to tell him, and for a second, she thought he was going to start accusing her again. He did a bad job of reassuring her that everything was alright, even cupping his hands around her stomach in a tight and uncomfortable grip for good measure. She walked on eggshells around him the entire pregnancy, expecting him to flip out at any moment and start brandishing her an adulterer, but it seemed he’d learned his lesson.
Even when Ritchie was born, and looked the absolute spit of Aaron as a child, he still didn’t warm to him. He would do his fatherly duties, but wouldn’t offer much outside of that. Shortly after, when Nuala became pregnant with Danielle, she noticed a difference in him. How much more excited he was, how he doted on her. And when Danielle, and ultimately Michelle, were born? Like a completely different man. She bit her tongue, wanting to keep the peace in front of the wains, but always resented him for having that chip on his shoulder when it came to Ritchie.
If she ever offered a slight concern, he stated that it was because they were girls. That’s why he was openly more affectionate towards them. She couldn’t argue with that, not without bringing in the whole Taylor dilemma again. An argument that had been buried 20 years ago. And when they’d see Taylor out and about every now and then, he would blank both of them. Refused to acknowledge that she had rejected him. Even when Aaron started going to the fancy political dos, he would be professional towards Aaron, but wouldn’t so much as take a quick glance Nuala’s way. She’s sure if anyone noticed, they’d assume it was because of her religion. Because of this, and the fact that almost two decades had passed, she never felt like his initial attraction to her was a motive in the disappearance, and then death, of her husband. Who would be that petty? And it isn’t like he’s ever even tried to make contact with her since…
That surely should have given Aaron an eye-opening. But still, it didn’t. How was it her fault that another man had flirted with her? And at that, be angry with her, not his own son. She had half a mind to go forward with a DNA test, but didn’t entertain the idea. She knew she wasn’t unfaithful, and wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. They aren’t on some midmorning reality TV show with four teeth between them. This was their life. Their family.
She thought she hid this from Ritchie. He’d never spoken to her about it. Why hadn’t he? She remembers the broken hand well, wondering how he could cause that much damage during an indoor training session. But he insisted it was his own stupidity. Even laughed that he didn’t have to do schoolwork now since he was right-handed. All this time, it was Aaron. God knows how many more times there were. What else was he keeping from her? From them? Bringing herself to stand, she decides to join them. Sort everything out. Ask Chris to go home and they could talk things out as a family. Tell Ritchie it isn’t his fault that his father rejected him. He did nothing wrong. But just as she reaches for the door, she gasps. What did she just hear? He… He did what?
Chapter Eighty-Three:
2016
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“Sshhh.”
Danielle topples about, nearly knocking down the vase at the top of the stairs, but luckily Chris grabs her on time. Straightening her again by holding both of her shoulders, Chris leads her to her bedroom. He snaps on her light and positions her over the bed. Placing her on the mattress, he battles with her shoes. How does she wear these things? He closes one eye to see better as he fights with the buckles. When they’re both off, he looks down at her snoring and shakes his head. Sliding her dress off over her head, he fishes a t-shirt from the chest of drawers and struggles her into it.
Plopping her onto the pillow, he turns her on her side before deciding he’ll need a bucket. She’s been sick a few times now already. Tottering down the stairs as quietly as he can, he tries manoeuvring himself around the kitchen in the dark, his phone to his ear. No taxis are answering. He was lucky he could jump in Dave’s, who had ordered one well in advance. Just when he goes to open his mouth to give Danielle’s address, the ringing
