8
Two long, lonely weeks.
Kiera stood miserably on her rainswept little balcony, and wished she had the courage to just leap off the edge. Anything, even death, would be less painful than standing here every night, crying her eyes out, praying that someday Conor would forgive her.
Why should he? She’d lied to him, deliberately withheld critical information from him, and destroyed his whole world. Why shouldn’t he glare at her with such vicious loathing, before he’d stalked out of her apartment?
How had things gotten so wildly out of hand? One moment they’d been laughing together, cozily domestic. And the next, they were nose to nose, snarling at each other, just like a pair of enraged prizefighters.
If only Peggy had gone with him in the beginning…or told him about her unexpected preg
