A Hand to Hold

Chapter twenty-six

~ Natalie

*

I’d never felt more at home than I did in Ronan’s arms. It was a comfort I never could’ve imagined coming from my former boss, of all people. That thought should’ve been unsettling, but I was enjoying our evening too much to be bothered. After our cathartic heart-to-heart in the car, I returned to feeling cautiously optimistic about our relationship. I still wouldn’t allot myself much hope for love. Hope was too dangerous at this stage. However, observing the rare genuine smile of Ronan Ó Ceallaigh made it hard to believe I’d ever been tempted to dissolve our relationship.

*

As the song and, subsequently, our dance came to an end, we were first approached by Cynthia. She was smiling, but it didn’t reach her eyes. I wondered if Ronan noticed, too. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises, Ronny,” she said. “That was quite the publicity stunt. How long is this little arrangement supposed to last?” Her use of the word ‘arrangement’ set me on edge. Had Ronan revealed to her the truth behind our marriage? Surely, he wouldn’t commit such an act of betrayal. Would he?

*

My agitation led me to put some space between me and my husband. Ronan understood my reaction and immediately quieted my nerves by pulling back against his side as he stated, “Our marriage may have come about suddenly, but I assure you, Cynthia, it’s not a stunt.”

“Oh, of course. Whatever you say, Ronny.” Her voice was blasé, and she sent him a wink before walking away.

~~~

Our dinner table was a hodgepodge of awkwardness. Joining myself and Ronan were the Prices, Cynthia, along with her mother and father, David and Leticia. Cynthia looked indifferent, David looked straight-up angry, and Leticia looked either bored, inebriated, or both. We were also joined by Frank Harmon, the man who once referred to Ronan’s marital status as ‘shackled.’ Frank was accompanied by his own ball and chain. And finishing out the table was John Herrington, Ronan’s former business partner, and his baby-momma-turned-wife.

*

After leaving the company, John remained a big supporter of OCE’s charities. His personality had undergone a massive transformation for the better as a result of the love he bore for his wife. John and Jerri complimented one another. She expressed delight in being on what she called a ‘mom-cation’ and interacting with people that didn’t involve peek-a-boo. She was charming and funny, and I thoroughly enjoyed her company. They were the only people at the table, apart from Ronan and I, who seemed the least bit glad to be there. John thought mine and Ronan’s sudden relationship wasn’t the least bit surprising.

*

“I should have known the first time I saw the two of you together you’d end up married,” John said. “I’ve never seen another female put you in your place the way she did,” he added to Ronan.

“Yeah, yeah, I had it coming,” Ronan replied honestly, smiling as if he remembered my first day of work with fondness.

*

After dinner, the dance floor was officially opened. But as host, it was Ronan’s responsibility to personally greet everyone in attendance. And, as not only his wife but also the substitute director, it was my duty to accompany him. We spoke to so many people my head spun. Ronan, sensing my distress, held me close to his side all evening and handled most of the talking. I was perfectly content with letting him take the lead.

*

Ronan spouted the same concocted story about our brief courtship so many times that even I began to believe it. Most were genuine in their well-wishes for our marriage. Some were not so genuine. More than one implication was made regarding my previous position as Ronan’s assistant. One such remark came from David. “Talk about sleeping your way to the top,” he’d said, and I had to grip Ronan’s arm tightly to prevent him from decking the guy. They had been business associates for so long; I didn’t want Ronan burning any bridges on my account.

*

Thankfully, the gala had an open bar. At the first opportunity, Ronan and I escaped the mass of people seeking an up-close account of our relationship. “What do you have in the way of Irish whiskey?” Ronan asked the bartender, whose name tag read ‘Hugo.’

“I have Jameson and—”

“He’ll have the Redbreast you have reserved for Mr. Ó Ceallaigh,” I instructed Hugo.

“Certainly, ma’am,” he obliged as he disappeared under the counter.

*

Ronan looked at me with marvel, and I explained, “I asked Callum.”

“I’m touched you thought of me,” he replied, pulling me in for a side hug. His touch was intoxicating, and I was well on my way to getting drunk.

*

After Hugo poured Ronan a generous serving of whiskey, I requested a glass of red wine. I noticed the way Ronan savored his drink. “I’ve never had whiskey before,” I confessed. “I usually avoid the hard liquors. Except for tequila, but only by way of a margarita.” He placed his glass in front of me, saying, “Try it.”

“Uh, no.” I slid the glass back.

“Afraid you’ll like it?” he teased.

“Afraid I’ll hate it and insult you by spitting out your expensive vice.”

“You owe me,” he claimed. My eyebrows rose as I replied, “How do you figure?”

“I tried your horrendous hazelnut latte.”

“That was by accident. And you didn’t even give it a fair shot. You only hated it because it wasn’t what you were expecting.”

“I hated it because it’s an abomination.”

*

Ronan slid the whiskey back in front of me and said, “Come on, life is full of new experiences, and I would love nothing more than to watch you experience a few.” The innuendo was unmistakable by the lust in his eyes. He stared at me as though I was his next meal.

*

Hoping to shake off the igniting effect of my husband, I grabbed the glass and took a sip. Fire burned all the way down my throat, but I was proud of myself for not gagging. All in all, I reacted to the whiskey far better than Ronan had reacted to my latte.

*

“Well?” Ronan inquired with a sexy smirk. I cleared my scorched throat and tried to produce my normal voice as I answered, “It’s much too smokey.”

“You don’t taste the fruit?”

“Who could claim they taste fruit after drinking that?” He let out a soft laugh and answered, “Someone who knows how to savor it, lass.”

“It was too overpowering; it was all I could do to get it down. I can’t believe you drink that all the time.” I handed the glass back to him. He took another sip and replied, “You get used to it.”

“I don’t see why you’d want to.” Ronan swirled the amber liquid in thought, taking his time to answer.

*

“My da used to drink this,” Ronan finally explained. “When I joined him at the company, he always had a bottle in his office. So, naturally, it’s what I started drinking. It reminds me of home.” I had no response to that. It was yet another layer of Ronan he didn’t reveal to everyone. But he did to me.

*

We were joined at the bar, first by John and Jerri on my left, then by Cynthia on Ronan’s right. “Are you two trying to hide from all the attention?” John asked.

“Just thirsty,” Ronan answered.

“You still drink that?” Cynthia asked Ronan, pointing to the bottle Hugo had left on the bar.

“What can I say? I’m a creature of habit.”

*

Ronan looked at me with admiration as he added, “I convinced Natalie to try some.”

“Did he?” John looked at me.

“He did,” I confessed.

“And what did the Mrs. think of it,” Cynthia wanted to know. There was a passive-aggressive edge to her voice I chose to ignore as I answered, “While it’s not my cup of tea, it’s also not the worst thing I’ve ever tasted.” Cynthia gave me a sickly-sweet smile and said, “No, I’m sure it isn’t.”

*

Hang on, I thought, did she just imply what I think she did? Judging by the look on her face, she most certainly did. Jerri sent me a ‘what the hell’ look, but the fellas took no notice. So, I decided to take the high road, channel my inner Elsa, and let it go.

*

“I like it well enough,” John commented. “I just don’t think it’s worth the price.”

“Ah, but that’s the price you pay for quality,” Ronan argued.

“Is it truly quality, though?” Jerri asked. “Or merely the label?”

“They’re one and the same,” Cynthia stated.

“I don’t think that’s always the case,” I rebutted. “Sometimes people shell out money for things that are truly made well, and sometimes people allow themselves to be swayed by labels.”

“But the label represents quality,” she insisted.

“Not always.”

“Anything that is not label is simply a cheap knockoff… and who really wants that?” Her emphasis, as well as her sneer, made her implication clear as day. Or so I thought. Ronan still took no notice, but I could see by Jerri’s expression I had at least one ally.

*

When one song ended and another began, Cynthia took Ronan’s arm. “Dance with me, Ronny!” Without objection, Ronan let Cynthia pull him toward the dance floor. I took a gulp from my wine glass, refusing to let myself be unsettled by the Barbie queen.

*

“Okay, I have to know,” Jerri said, leaning toward me, “how on earth did you find the restraint to keep from slapping that girl’s false eyelashes right off her face?”

“It wasn’t easy,” I answered. “But I think that’s what she wanted.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think it was her intention to get a reaction out of me. She chose her words carefully in order to insult me in front of Ronan.”

“What on earth are you girls going on about?” Poor John was utterly clueless.

*

Jerri took a moment to explain the remarks Cynthia had made about me. “I swear,” John muttered, “every time I learn more about women, it makes me feel damn lucky to be a dude.” Jerri smacked his arm, then turned back to me and kindly asked, “Are you alright though?”

“I’m fine, thanks. I just wish Ronan could see her for who she really is.” John lightened the mood by changing the subject. And as we finished our drinks, I began to feel a little more buoyant.

*

When the song changed and Ronan didn’t return, I considered ordering another glass of wine. “Care for a dance, darling?” John so sweetly asked Jerri.

“Honey, you know I have two left feet,” she replied. “Ask Natalie.” John turned to me and offered his hand. “Would you do me the honors?” I looked to Jerri, and she responded, “Oh, please do, girl. You’d be doing me a favor.”

“Well, in that case,” I said, taking John’s hand, “I’d appreciate a distraction that doesn’t involve alcohol.”

*

I followed John into the mass of dancing couples and said, “I hope you’re good at leading. Otherwise, there’s a high probability of me embarrassing you.”

“I can manage,” he assured me. He respectfully left space between us, unlike Cynthia, who shamelessly pressed herself against a married man. I averted my gaze from her and Ronan, focusing on my partner. John sent his wife a wink at the bar. “You’re a changed man,” I stated. “It looks good on you.”

“You know, I think so too,” he replied happily, giving me a twirl.

*

John efficiently steered me around the dance floor as we chatted. He inquired after Katrina, laughing when I revealed that she had taken the job of Ronan’s PA. He joked, “I hope she slaps him too.” Coming from him, it was comical, and I joined him in laughter. I asked John of his babies, and he beamed as he spoke about the twins.

*

When there was a lull in our conversation, John took the opportunity to get personal. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ronan so content. We used to be one and the same, with our outlooks on commitment. It’s funny that the thing I avoided like the plague, turned out to be the one thing that gives my life meaning. Unfortunately, it’s a lesson one cannot be taught. It must be learned through personal experience. And I think, thanks to you, the Irishman is well on his way.”

“That’s kind of you to say, John, but I think it would be foolish of me to cling to too much hope.”

“That’s a shame… because I really think you should.”

*

After our dance, John returned to his wife, and my feet reminded me why I never wore heels. I retreated to our empty dinner table. The plates had been cleared, but thankfully, the catering staff left the water glasses and filled them in our absence.

*

I rested my feet and savored a refreshing drink as well as a quiet moment to myself. The evening had begun to wind down, and the guests were dwindling. I was relieved to see Ronan no longer in Cynthia’s clutches. After their second dance, he promptly resumed his duties as host. I knew he disfavored the socializing a man in his position was obligated to endure. But he never let it show.

*

I withdrew my phone from my red clutch and texted Katrina, letting her know I’d run into her former boss, and what he’d said about the possibility of her slapping Ronan. “Don’t give me any ideas,” she texted back.

*

When I put my phone away, someone cast me in shadow. With a whiff of intoxicating masculine cologne, I didn’t need to look up to know my husband stood before me. He held out his hand and said, “Dance with me.”

“I already did,” I reminded him.

“Once more. They’re about to play the last song.” With a weary sigh, I informed him, “Ronan, my feet hurt.”

*

My husband sat in the vacant chair beside me and slowly leaned down, picked up one of my ankles, and rested my foot over his knee. “What are you doing?” I asked in surprise. He ignored me as he removed my shoe and proceeded to do the same with the other.

*

“You danced with John,” Ronan stated. “I think, as your husband, that affords me at least one more dance.” He was being so sweet, I didn’t have the heart to refuse. “You’re right, it does.” I let him pull me to my bare feet, and he said, “Besides, I have it on good authority… my own in fact… that you like this song.” He signaled the conductor, and the orchestra began to play.

*

Ronan led me to the nearly vacant dance floor while I tried to pinpoint the tune being played. I was thrown off the scent momentarily, having never heard the song performed by orchestra, but eventually, it came to me.

*

I beamed at Ronan as he took me into his arms, and we began dancing to ‘Hold Me While You Wait,’ a Lewis Capaldi song I currently had on my favorites playlist. I could hardly believe what was happening. When a honey voice came through the speakers, I looked toward the orchestra to find the conductor giving a masterful performance.

*

“I can’t believe you did this,” I expressed, gazing up at my husband in wonder. He tightened his grip on me and replied, “I wanted to give you a reason to smile for a change.”

“Ronan, I…” But I was at a loss for words.

“What is it?” he asked. The tenderness in his voice sent chills down my spine.

“No one’s ever done anything like this for me,” I told him, my voice wavering. I was losing control of my heart, and I didn’t know if I could find the strength to rein it back in.

*

“On one hand,” Ronan began as he spun me around, “that is a crying shame, lass.”

“And the other hand?” I asked, nearly straining my neck to look up at him. The difference in our heights without my shoes was significant. “On the other hand,” he continued, lowering his mouth near my ear, “I get to be your first… in more ways than one.” The man’s ability to render me utterly speechless was startling.

*

We moved in rhythm to one of my favorite songs as we stared at one another without speaking. A massive shift occurred between us. I was quickly and irreversibly losing the battle with my heart. The idea of letting him in terrified me. But at that point… it was too late. He looked as though he wanted to kiss me, and if he did, it would dissolve the last shred of my restraint. For better or worse, my heart would belong to him. If that happened, I would never get it back in one piece.

*

However, the song ended, and his lips never made contact with mine. I didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. “Thank you, Ronan,” I said.

“You’re very welcome, lass. If you’ll excuse me, I need to extend our thanks to Owen.”

“Owen?”

“Our serenader.” he pointed to the conductor.

“Oh, I see. Let me grab my shoes. I’ll meet you over there.”

*

We parted ways, and I returned to where Ronan had left the infernal contraptions that passed for footwear. I adjusted the straps and got to my feet, only to realize Ronan was nowhere in sight. I saw Owen, but Ronan wasn’t with him. Just as I began my search, my path was suddenly blocked by David Price. He stared me down with a vacant expression that was anything but friendly. Considering his ongoing business relationship with Ronan, I resolved to be on my best behavior, no matter what.

*

“You’re looking rather pleased with yourself,” David practically snarled at me. His voice dripped with accusation as he stood before me, hands in his pockets. “Yes, well, the evening was a wonderful success,” I replied politely.

“For some more than others,” he responded cryptically.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean.”

“What I mean, girl, is you have successfully demolished plans that were years in the making. Plans which were made between myself and Ronan’s father. But you don’t give a damn about that, do you? You got what you wanted— your own sugar daddy. You may have charmed many people here tonight, but I see you for what you are, you filthy little gold-digger.”

*

I summoned every ounce of strength to refrain from responding to David’s impertinence. After a calming breath, I replied, “Excuse me, Mr. Price, but you’ve gotten a very wrong impression.”

“Have I? Tell me, girl… does he love you?” A slight pang struck my heart at his question. “Because he loves my daughter. Or he did before you came along and spread your legs for him.”

*

My control slipped and fury flashed across my eyes as I declared, “Mr. Price, you are WAY out of line.” He grabbed my arm painfully and sneered villainously, “No, YOU are out of line, and I’m here to put you back in it. One day, very soon, Ronan will come to his senses. He will come crawling back to my daughter. And when that day comes, you will not stand in his way.”

*

I won’t deny I was distressed by David’s proximity, his grip on my arm, and his words. But I was Texan, and we don’t take kindly to threats. “And if I do?” I asked boldly. He released me and, with a shrug, muttered, “Accidents happen every day, don’t they?”

*

My heart pounded wildly long after David had walked away. Several deep breaths later, I managed to regain a smidge of composure. I needed to find Ronan. He would assuredly want to know about David’s threat.

*

I searched all over the ballroom. When I came to the bar, I got Hugo’s attention, asking, “Have you seen Mr. Ó Ceallaigh recently?”

“I think I just saw him heading toward the restrooms.”

“Thank you,” I told him before making my way out of the main room and down the hallway.

*

As I approached the restrooms, I heard voices that paralyzed me where I stood. “Come on, Ronny. You know I know you better than that,” Cynthia was saying in her melodic voice she reserved just for my husband. “You couldn’t even bring yourself to kiss her.” Ronan’s reply turned my blood ice cold. “You’re right, Cyn. I couldn’t bring myself to kiss her.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~