A Hand to Hold

Chapter fifteen

~ Natalie

*

My new husband had a lot of nerve. The man had no sympathy for my situation. Everything about my life had suddenly become all about him. I was his wife now, living in his home, and couldn’t go anywhere without his driver, who probably needed his permission to take me anywhere. It was beyond infuriating.

*

I paced angrily in the parking garage, awaiting Harrison. When the Rolls Royce pulled to a stop in its usual spot near the elevators, I watched the driver get out and greet me with a smile. I looked at him in a new light since Ronan told me he doubled as a bodyguard. Though Harrison still had a fatherly aura, I now understood why the six-foot man in his late forties stayed so fit. His dark-brown hair may have been thinning, and fine lines were beginning to show on his tanned skin, especially around his honey-brown eyes, but apart from that, he had the body of a man almost half his age.

*

“Good morning, Mrs. Ó Ceallaigh,” Harrison greeted.

“Please, I beg you, Harrison. Do not call me that.”

“Would you like me to return to calling you Ms. Norris?”

“No! Please call me Natalie. That’s an order.”

“Very well, Ms. Natalie.” I rolled my eyes but accepted the compromise.

*

Harrison opened the back door and said, “Ready to go home?”

“Actually, I had something else in mind.” He suddenly looked nervous as he replied, “Respectfully, Ms. Natalie, I cannot oblige. My orders are to deliver you home and nowhere else.”

“Of course,” I muttered. “Anyway, that’s not what I meant. I will return home, but I have business here to take care of first.”

“Mr. Ó Ceallaigh said you were done with work.”

“Not that kind of business.”

*

I moved back to the elevators and pressed the call button as I said, “I need to get my things from upstairs and bring them to the house.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Would you help me?”

“I’d be happy to.” He pulled out this phone and added, “Let me call some of the guys that work for Mr. Ó Ceallaigh, and we will take care of it for you.”

“I’d rather not trouble them. You and I can handle it just fine. It isn’t much.”

“I know my boss wouldn’t be pleased if I allowed you to do it yourself.”

“I won’t do it myself; I will have you to help me.”

*

The elevator doors opened with a soft ding. “Besides, it’s Ronan’s damn fault I’m out of a job,” I begrudgingly muttered as we entered the lift. “What else am I going to do with my time?”

“I’m still going to call Enrique, though,” he replied. “Just one extra pair of hands would make all the difference.”

“You’re a tough negotiator, Edgar. Has anyone ever told you that?” He spared me a sideways glance and said, “If I don’t call Enrique, would you promise never to use my first name again?”

“Deal,” I said happily. He returned the phone to his pocket, saying, “But if Mr. Ó Ceallaigh asks me why I didn’t call for help, I’m going to tell him you twisted my arm.”

“I accept your terms.”

*

When we entered the vacant office where Ronan’s security team had stashed my things, Harrison took stock of everything, looked at me curiously, and said, “Is this it?”

“I told you we could manage it ourselves. Good thing I was a minimalist by necessity,” I explained. “Not to mention, a bunch of angry Russians broke all my furniture.” He looked at me with raised eyebrows that screamed, ‘What the f**k?’ I sighed and added, “I take it Ronan didn’t tell you the details of why I left my apartment?”

“My boss is not known for his talkative nature. I assumed you left because you married him.”

“I married him because I had nowhere else to go.”

*

Having done most of the sorting the day before, there wasn’t much to do except the moving part. As we carried boxes out, I explained to Harrison what led to my sudden nuptials. We made quick work of it, seeing as there were less than a dozen boxes I wanted to take. We drove back to the house and unloaded everything in less than an hour.

~~*~~

Alone in a house I couldn’t bring myself to consider my own, I stared at the boxes with no will to unpack. The room Ronan had given me was comfortable, as was everything in the house, but it just didn’t feel like home. The room was so neutral it was borderline sterile. The walls were a soft grey, the furniture was all lighter wood, and the bedspread was stark white, complete with white pillows.

*

I reluctantly put my long hair into a braid and got to work. After emptying the final box, I stood back and admired my work. A bright red throw blanket, which I knitted myself, added a splash of color to my bed. Blush-pink and mint-green throw pillows brought cheer to the settee in front of the windows, which overlooked the enormous pool in the backyard. My toiletries were all in their place, in the attached bathroom. And the adjacent walk-in closet held every stitch of clothing I owned with plenty of room to spare.

*

I transported the empty boxes downstairs and returned to my bathroom to wash my hands. Due to the cold weather, my skin felt uncomfortably dry. I reached into my nightstand drawer and pulled out my favorite Bath & Body Works scented lotion, feeling quite happy to have all my things back again.

*

When I finished applying lotion, I remembered my wedding ring. The look on Ronan’s face that morning when he saw I was no longer wearing it, flashed through my mind. I retrieved the ring from the jewelry tray on the bathroom counter. Wearing a ring on that finger still felt foreign.

*

Worrying Ronan over the ring was my one regret from our fight that morning. It really upset him that I had taken it off. Was it because he thought I’d lost it? Or was he truly insulted that I wasn’t wearing it? I wanted to get to the bottom of what triggered his reaction, but at the moment, I preferred to keep my distance from him.

*

Once my ring was securely back on my finger, I reached for my phone, lying on the bed. I’d promised Brigid a lunch date whenever I was settled, and I was officially as settled as I’d get. We only talked for a few minutes, as she was currently hosting a card game, but we managed to arrange a lunch date for the day after next. She seemed genuinely pleased I had called so promptly. At least one of the Ó Ceallaighs still saw me in a positive light.

*

After putting my phone on the wireless charger, my stomach gurgled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten since breakfast. I ventured downstairs to see what I could find in the enormous kitchen. When I arrived, I discovered Marie hard at work. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Ó Ceallaigh,” she said, smiling.

“Please, call me Natalie, I insist.”

“Very well, Ms. Natalie,” she replied.

“You and Harrison are cut from the same cloth, aren’t you?” I asked. She confirmed with a soft chuckle as I took a seat on the barstool for a better view of her project.

*

Marie was busy rolling out dough for something tasty by the smell of it. “What are you working on?” I wanted to know.

“Cinnamon rolls.”

“Yum! But I thought Ronan doesn’t eat delicious carbs?”

“He doesn’t, no matter how much I tempt him. These are for my sister and her family. Mr. Ó Ceallaigh lets me use the kitchen for my own personal use, since my apartment is so small. This house may belong to him, but the way I see it, the kitchen is mine.” She laughed softly, and I smiled.

*

Marie was a warm, friendly soul, just like Harrison. It was clear the type of person Ronan preferred to surround himself with. It was comforting to know even when I was at odds with my husband, I could always find a friendly face nearby.

*

Remembering my anger towards Ronan must have shown on my face because Marie suddenly asked, “What’s wrong, pet?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” I dismissed her, and before she could press me further, I asked, “Can I help you?”

“Sure! I would love the company. This house is far too quiet.”

*

As we worked the dough, spread the filling, and rolled it all up together, we talked as if we’d known each other for years. I didn’t go into detail on my arrangement with Ronan. I only mentioned that it was more of an agreement than a real marriage, which didn’t seem to surprise her. I’m sure she knew Ronan enough to be aware of his typical interactions with women and that he hadn’t been dating anyone before I showed up at his house to say I do.

*

I snacked on things I found in the kitchen as Marie and I talked. She never made excuses for Ronan’s behavior when I told her about our argument that morning, for which I was grateful. I didn’t need a third party pressuring me to forgive him before I was ready. I had no desire to hold on to my anger. However, Ronan owed me at least some semblance of an apology. I was no longer his assistant, as he bluntly reminded me that morning. I was his wife and, as such, deserved a modicum of respect.

*

After Marie and I finished the cinnamon rolls and cleaned up the kitchen, I went back upstairs and texted Trina, inviting her over for dinner. Two seconds after I sent the message, she called. “That was quick,” I answered.

“I couldn’t put my explanation into a text,” she told me.

“What explanation?”

“For why I can’t have dinner tonight.”

“Okay… why can’t you have dinner tonight?”

“I have to get ready for my new job tomorrow.”

“Are you flying back home?” I asked, suddenly saddened by the mere thought of her leaving.

“No, I decided to stay in Chicago. Or rather, my new job made the decision for me.”

“How did you get a job in Chicago so quickly? I didn’t even know you were looking.”

“I wasn’t, the job found me. And it comes with this swanky apartment.”

“Wait a minute … are you saying what I think you are saying?”

“Yep… I stole your job,” she admitted. I was speechless.

*

“Please say something, Nat,” Trina said through the phone. “Are you angry with me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, of course not,” I replied. “I’m thrilled!”

“You are?”

“Yes! I would’ve lost my job anyway… stupid company policy. If I’m forced to give it up, I’m happy it went towards keeping you in Chicago.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

*

I heard noises downstairs, indicating the man of the house was home. “I’ve got to go, Trina,” I said into the phone. “Call me tomorrow and tell me about your first day.”

“Oh, I definitely will, considering you have all the secrets on being Ronan Ó Cealligh’s personal assistant.”

“So does Candace, don’t forget.”

“Oh yeah, thanks for reminding me! Talk later, love.”

“Talk later,” I confirmed before hanging up.

*

I spared a glance in the mirror, making sure I didn’t have baking ingredients all over me from cleaning the kitchen. Satisfied I looked somewhat decent, I left my room.

*

I froze when I reached the top of the stairs as I unexpectedly found Ronan standing at the bottom, staring up at me. “Go and get dressed for dinner. I’m taking you out,” he commanded.

“Excuse me?” I asked in surprise at his sudden proclamation. He cleared his throat and spoke again, this time with an attempt at chivalry. “Would you please come out with me for dinner?”

*

I walked halfway down the stairs as I chewed my bottom lip thoughtfully. If this was his attempt at an apology, the least I could do was give him the opportunity. “Alright,” I answered. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“What should I wear?”

“Dress casual.”

“Fine.”

*

I returned to my room with a sigh of relief. I hated how much that man affected me. But even amidst my anger toward him, he still looked criminally appealing. And for better or worse, he was mine. I quickly swapped my clothes, opting for dark denim skinny jeans and a black silk off-the-shoulder top. Then, I added a bit of curl to my hair and touched up my makeup, applying a bit more eyeshadow and liner than I typically wore in the daytime. Lastly, I slipped into comfortable red flats before heading downstairs to meet Ronan. He must’ve approved of my appearance because he spared me a rare affectionate smile.

*

In the driveway, Ronan opened the door to his Mercedes for me. After he got in on the driver’s side, I asked, “Why isn’t Harrison driving us?”

“I prefer him to be home with his family for dinner.” I was taken aback by his answer. He didn’t seem the type to care whether or not his employees were home for dinner. “Also, I wanted to speak with you privately,” he added. But we didn’t speak another word to each other as we drove out of the neighborhood.

*

I refused to be the one to break the silence. When we reached the main road, Ronan finally spoke. “Look, Natalie, about last night…” He stopped as if he didn’t know how to continue.

“I suppose you intend to blame your ill behavior on the alcohol?” I asked.

“No, not at all. I wouldn’t insult your intelligence in such a way. Partly because I didn’t have that much to drink in the first place. And it’d be a cop-out.” I didn’t know how to respond. I’d never dated a guy who assumed personal responsibility, and I certainly didn’t know what to expect from a billionaire.

*

Following a few more moments of silence, Ronan found his voice again. “I couldn’t understand why you wouldn’t look at me during our wedding.”

“I was nervous,” I explained quietly.

“Then, I overheard you telling Katrina that you’ve never dealt with divorce before… and I immediately assumed the worst. I know I shouldn’t have. It’s just …”

“Just what?” I encouraged him to continue.

“I don’t have any experience with committed relationships. Most women pursue me just to see what they can get.”

“I am not most women, Ronan.”

“No, believe me, I am well aware.” I wondered what he meant by that. Was he dissatisfied with me as his wife?

*

“But in that moment,” Ronan went on, reclaiming my attention, “I let my negative past experiences color my judgment of you instead of giving you a chance to explain. I …” he hesitated for a second before whispering, “I’m sorry, Natalie.”

*

Though I’d hoped Ronan planned to apologize at some point that evening, now that he had, I was too thrown by his humility to respond. Rich men weren’t usually known for admitting when they were wrong, especially Irish ones. There was a lot I didn’t know about my husband, but one trait I had witnessed over the past year with him was that he was undeniably stubborn. Yet, there he was, being sincerely apologetic. What kind of wife would I be if I didn’t accept?

*

“I understand where you’re coming from, and I accept your apology,” I told him.

“What?” Ronan responded in surprise. “Just like that?”

“Just like that,” I repeated. Neither of us spoke for several moments, and I wondered what was going through his mind. Thankfully, I didn’t have to wonder for long.

*

“If I am truly forgiven,” Ronan said softly, “why aren’t you speaking to me?”

“Why aren’t you?” I asked back.

“Fair point. Tell me what you’re thinking,” he requested. “I’m finding it more difficult to read you as my wife than as my assistant.”

*

I considered giving him a generic answer but decided complete honesty would be the better path. With a sigh, I admitted, “I don’t know how to be around you, Ronan.”

“What do you mean?”

“The dynamic between us has completely changed. I don’t know how to behave around you anymore.”

“I know it sounds cliché, but just be yourself. Tell me what is on your mind at this exact moment.”

“I’m worried about how you will react.”

“Say it anyway.”

“Okay … I don’t like being controlled.” He laughed under his breath and replied, “Well, then you screwed up by marrying me because I crave control.”

“Look, I understand it’s in your nature, and you probably feel the decisions you make are in my best interests, but can you at least consult me? I feel like a child when you charge ahead without talking to me.”

“That’s reasonable,” he said, though I saw his struggle to admit it.

*

“But I have to ask something of you in return,” Ronan added before I could savor my tiny victory.

“This isn’t a business negotiation, Ronan,” I pointed out.

“Just hear me out, lass.”

“Fine.”

“You have to speak to me however you damn well please. Don’t hold back, and don’t shut me out. It will go a long way in leveling the playing field.”

*

I thought about what he said for several minutes, and Ronan took advantage of my silence to strengthen his standpoint. “The only somewhat healthy relationship I’ve ever had is with my grandmother,” he explained. “We’re Irish. We communicate openly and unabashedly. We use a f*****g colorful language too.” He smiled at me from the driver’s seat, and I laughed despite myself.

*

“Brigid told me the same thing yesterday,” I said. “That she wanted me to speak my mind with her. I suppose… if I can do it with her… I can try it with you.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s just different with you,” I told him.

“Why?”

“Because up until two days ago, you were my boss.”

“I understand, but I’m not anymore. I am your husband. And the only way this relationship can survive is if we are both completely honest.”

“Alright,” I cautiously relented.

“Good.”

*

“We got that out of the way just in time,” Ronan said as he pulled into a parking lot. “Because we’re here.”

“Where is here?” I asked, peering through the window. I hadn’t realized he’d gotten out of the car until he opened my door and held out a hand for me. “Come on, let’s get you some good Mexican food.” With a wide grin, I replied, “Oh, now you’re completely forgiven.”

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