A Hand to Hold

Chapter thirty-two

~ Natalie

*

Ronan wanted me to give our relationship a chance. He had no idea the weight of what he was asking. He’d never given me a reason for optimism before. What changed? His intentions may be honorable now, but I lived in constant fear of him pulling away the moment I began to lean on him. If that happened, I didn’t see how I’d ever recover.

*

Ronan had made it clear divorce was not an option. Therefore, if he broke my heart beyond repair, I’d be trapped in a loveless marriage. I couldn’t believe Ronan when he said he’d never let me fall, but I did believe he’d never let me go.

*

I pushed thoughts of divorce from my mind and told myself to stop dwelling on the future and focus on the present. Christmas was less than two weeks away, and our house looked like it belonged to Ebenezer Scrooge. My time was better spent preparing for the holidays. With the press raking me across the coals and the Russian mob looking for money I didn’t have, I needed a bigger distraction than painting could offer.

*

Since my debut as Ronan’s wife, the spotlight on me was at an all-time high. Harrison and Marie kindly volunteered to shop for Christmas decorations in my stead. In no time, I was well underway in transforming our house into a festive wonderland. I’d even talked my husband into giving his personal assistant a day off work to help me. Though, Ronan would’ve agreed to anything that resulted in keeping me content at home.

*

“Where do you want this one, Ms. Natalie?” Marie asked, holding a wreath with sparkly red and gold balls. “I think I’ll hang that one in the center of the banister,” I replied. “But I have to get this garland strung first.” Standing halfway up a ladder, I wrangled scratchy greenery around the staircase railing while Trina held up the slack.

*

“You know,” Trina said casually, “Candace says Ronan never decorates for Christmas.”

“I gathered as much by the absence of decorations in his attic,” I replied.

“So… why do you think he’s letting you decorate?”

“He’s letting me decorate because A— this is my house too. And B— he knows it’s keeping me busy, so I’m not constantly pestering him to leave the house.”

“Mmhmm,” was her only reply.

“Subtlety was never your strong suit, Kat. Spit it out.” If she could annoy me, I could annoy her by using her hated nickname.

*

My hands continued their work as I glanced over at Trina expectantly. “Don’t you realize he’s doing this to make you happy?” she commented.

“Doing what?” I questioned doubtfully. “Carrying on with his normal routine while I do all the work? You make it sound like he’s going out of his way for me. He’s not.”

“That’s not what Candace thinks.”

“Do the two of you get together just to discuss me and Ronan?”

“We’re concerned about you.”

*

I stopped what I was doing to make eye contact with Trina, asking in annoyance, “What about me?” She sighed and replied, “We’re worried you don’t see what is right in front of you.”

“Look, Trina, I appreciate your concern, but you don’t know Ronan. There are things about him that give me reason to be cautious.”

“Candace knows him. She says she is seeing a whole new side to him. Don’t you think that maybe you’re the cause of it?”

“I think hope is dangerous.”

“God, girl! If you can’t let yourself fall for your husband, then you are doomed.” Trina’s advice was annoyingly perceptive. With no rebuttal, I returned my attention to the garland.

*

As I finished up with the banister, Trina’s phone chimed. When I spared a glance in her direction, I caught her smiling. There was no other word for it— she looked smitten. “Trina?” I asked. Her eyes didn’t shift from the phone as she responded, “Hmm?”

“Katrina!” I shouted. That caught her attention. “What?!”

“Who’s the guy?”

“Guy? What guy?” But her evasive tone didn’t fool anyone.

*

I stepped off the ladder and demanded, “Trin. Spill.” She promptly shoved her phone into her back pocket as if that would put an end to my questions. “There’s nothing to spill,” she argued.

“Liar! Your eyes are shifting back and forth the way they do when you’re dishonest. Your tell is worse than Pinocchio’s.” She took a breath, and I thought she was about to confess, but instead stated, “I don’t want to talk about it,” and retreated into the living room. I promptly pursued her.

*

The living room was bursting with bags upon bags of decorations. Katrina busied herself looking through them, thinking that would keep me at bay. “You butt yourself into every aspect of my personal life,” I pointed out, “but you don’t tell me when you start seeing someone new? What gives, Trina?”

“Nothing, Nat. It’s just …”

“Just what?”

“It’s just new. I don’t think it’s worth discussing until it becomes a thing.”

“Since when? You discuss every guy who so much as winks at you.”

*

Trina rifled through another shopping bag, and I closed in on her. “Okay, let me ask you this,” I began. “Have you kissed this guy yet?”

“Um, yes.” Her eyes were shifty and secretive.

“Oh my gosh!” I exclaimed. “You’ve slept with this guy?!”

“Maybe.” Her tone was basically an admission.

*

“There’s only one reason you wouldn’t tell me,” I said. “You don’t think I’d approve.”

“I just don’t want to hear your criticism,” she defended.

“And since when do I want to hear yours? That never stops you from giving it!”

“Because you’re much nicer than me. Your criticism is more hurtful.”

“Okay, now, I’m officially worried about you.”

“Just drop it, Natalie!” she snapped.

*

My best friend and I had gotten into our fair share of arguments, but she’d never kept secrets from me. Given our unprecedented friction, I simply replied, “Fine,” before moving back toward the foyer.

*

Almost to the doorway, I stopped short when Trina shouted, “It’s Callum! Okay?!” She pulled me around by the elbow and added, “There, I said it, now you can’t be mad at me.” Stunned, I repeated, “Callum Conway? As in Ronan’s best friend and the reincarnation of Evel Knievel?” She simply nodded in confirmation. I should’ve seen it coming. He was totally her type— tall, dark, handsome… and emotionally unavailable.

*

“Say something, Nat,” Katrina pleaded.

“I mean… there’s a high probability of it ending badly,” I replied honestly. “You know that, don’t you?”

“I do,” she admitted.

“Then what more can I say? It’s your life.”

“God, somehow that’s worse than your silence.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me you’re not disappointed in me.”

“Of course, I’m not. You’re a grown-ass woman. You have the right to follow your heart, or your libido, whichever the case may be. I’ve already gone on record in saying I don’t think it’s a good idea, but that’s all you’ll hear about it from me.”

*

Trina’s arms flew around me as she expressed, “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“I get it,” I said. “But you can’t hide the parts of your life you think I’ll judge you for. I thought we were better friends than that.”

“We are. You’re right.”

*

When Trina released me, I looked into her pretty brown eyes and said, “Does Ronan know?” She grinned guiltily, which was all the confirmation I needed. “Damn him!” I swore in frustration.

“Nat, please don’t be angry with him. I begged him not to tell you.”

“I’m tired of him keeping things from me.”

“Then you should know how mad he was when I asked him not to tell you. He doesn’t want there to be any more secrets between you.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

“Natalie, it’s me! I wouldn’t lie to you. He gave me till Christmas to tell you, or he was going to do it himself. He really is changing… for you.”

*

Trina’s confession alleviated my anger toward Ronan. In all honesty, directing my emotions at him had been a knee-jerk reaction because it was easier to be upset with him than with Katrina. But reason would not permit the injustice. It wasn’t Ronan’s fault. It wasn’t his secret to tell. And at the moment, I was more concerned by Trina’s final statement and whether there was any truth to it. Was my strong-willed and unyielding husband beginning to change… for me?

~~~

Katrina and I made quick work of the rest of the decorating. By dinnertime, the house was unrecognizable. As I placed the last dish on the table, I heard the front door open. I moved toward the foyer in time to catch my husband muttering, “Holy shit.”

“You like it?” I asked in greeting.

“It’s beautiful. I can’t believe you did all this in one day.”

“Yeah, and that was with Trina texting Callum every five seconds.”

*

Ronan’s cobalt eyes locked with mine as he deduced, “She told you?”

“More like I drug it out of her.” He hung up his coat and cautiously approached me, asking, “Are you upset with me for keeping it from you?”

“I was at first, but then I realized it wasn’t your fault. It’s Trina’s drama. I can’t be mad at you for simply wanting to stay out of it.”

“Thank God,” he expressed with a loud exhale. “This has been stressing me out all week.”

*

I knew Ronan didn’t mean anything by it, but his remark came as a slap in the face. “This? Really?” I said in irritation. “I have to hide at home, day after day, because angry Russians have a vendetta against my family… and you’ve been stressed over THIS?”

“Natalie—” I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “You can explain yourself over dinner. It’s hot, and I’m starving.”

“Very well,” he replied before following me into the dining room.

*

We endured half our meal in strained silence until Ronan said, “Baby, I—”

“No!” I snapped. “Don’t start with that, Ronan. Can we have a simple discussion without you preying on my emotions?”

“That wasn’t my intent. It’s sort of become a habit.”

“Well, you’re only allowed to call me that when I’m not upset with you.”

“You’re upset with me, are you?”

*

Ronan took a bite, awaiting my answer. I put my fork down, looked at him, and admitted, “A little.”

“Why, lass?”

“I don’t think you understand what it’s like to feel trapped in this house.”

“That’s all you have to say, Natalie. You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like.” I didn’t respond, and we resumed eating in silence.

*

After clearing the table, Ronan helped load the dishes into the dishwasher. Before settling into this routine, I had no idea Ronan was capable of being so… domesticated.

*

“Would it help,” Ronan began, passing me a dirty plate, “if you went to see Brigid tomorrow? She’s been asking to see you.”

“Is that… I mean, do you think it’s safe?”

“Go with Harrison, and don’t stay too long, but it should be fine. You deserve a reprieve from this house, as lovely as you’ve made it.”

*

I pondered his suggestion as I put soap in the dishwasher and turned it on. I leaned against the counter and said, “I would like that.”

“When I’m at work, I tend to forget everything else,” Ronan explained as he reached for my hand. “Including how horrid it must be for you to be cooped up here. All you have to do is remind me. Okay?”

“Okay,” I replied.

*

My heart skipped as he leaned in to kiss me. I’d come to anticipate his kisses, and they left me warm long after we parted. I hoped that would never change but only grow with time.

*

“Oh,” I said, suddenly remembering my one and only trip outside that day. “I put the mail on your desk.”

“So, you’re the reason the box was empty.”

“I thought walking to the mailbox would give me some semblance of freedom.”

“Did it?”

“Not really.”

*

Ronan went off toward his office while I migrated into the living room, admiring my decorative handiwork along the way. I plopped down on the sofa and turned on the TV. Five minutes into a new episode of my favorite sitcom, Ronan reappeared.

*

“Here, this is for you,” he said, handing me a credit card. “It’s already been activated, so it’s ready to be used.” I examined the shiny black credit card embossed with my married name as Ronan suggested with a smile, “Perhaps some online shopping will lift your spirits?”

*

I fought the urge to argue that I didn’t need a credit card. I knew it would only lead to another disagreement. “I guess I could start on my Christmas shopping,” I relented. “Thanks, Ronan.”

“My pleasure, a ghrá.” He made himself comfortable beside me, and I waited for him to seize the remote. However, he seemed perfectly content, easily immersing himself in what I was watching.

*

We lounged on the sofa together all evening as if we’d been together for years. How had being married to my boss become so comfortable in such a short time? I didn’t know where to go from there. I’d reached a crossroads. My inner voice bugged me again; lean in or leave. I had to make a choice soon. Otherwise, my heart would make it for me.

~~*~~

The following day, I breathed the sweet taste of freedom on my way to see Brigid. “You look like a prisoner who’s just been paroled, “ Harrison astutely commented from the driver’s seat.

“I feel like it,” I confirmed.

“Seriously though,” he said, “how are you doing with everything?”

“As well as can be expected. Thanks for asking.”

“I wish there was more I could do.”

“Are you kidding? You’re the only reason Ronan is letting me leave the house. You’re my hero. But if you feel compelled to do more… I’m always up for more distractions.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“Seen any good movies lately?”

*

The second I saw Brigid, I realized how self-absorbed I’d been. While my grandmother-in-law and I were both confined to our living quarters, I at least had freedom of mobility. At only ten days post-op, Brigid’s recovery was still in its early stages.

*

“Natalie, darling, it’s so good to see you,” Brigid welcomed as I entered the parlor where George had directed me.

“I’m grateful for the invitation,” I returned, sitting in the chair beside her settee. Brigid was never one to beat around the bush, even in her weakened state. She plopped a newspaper in my lap and said, “You and Ronan look quite dashing in print.”

*

Front and center of the society pages was a large photo of Ronan and I arriving at the gala.

The photo was flattering… the corresponding article was not. I covered my eyes, groaning in embarrassment. Brigid yanked my hands away from my face with unexpected force. “Listen to me!” she demanded. I looked into eyes that matched Ronan’s as she said, “They are nothing but a pit of vipers! If you let a little bad press impact your life, then they’ve won, and they’ll forever control you.”

*

Brigid released my hands as she continued, “If you desire to render them powerless, you’ll listen to the benefit of my experience. The social elite do not appreciate newcomers invading their inner circle. You don’t fit neatly into any of their little boxes. Natalie, that is what makes you special. But…They’re going to come after you with everything they’ve got. Show the world Natalie Ó Ceallaigh is unshakable. Get yourself the thickest skin possible, and wear it proudly. Remember, Ronan chose you as his wife above all others. And all that matters is what’s between you and your husband.” Overwhelmed by Brigid’s outpouring of support and encouragement, I simply nodded and said, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good girl.”

*

George brought in a tray of tea and cookies as we moved on to other topics. “You did a phenomenal job on the Christmas gala,” Brigid said proudly, making me blush. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

“You know I can’t take the credit—”

“You can and you will. Don’t diminish your own hard work, dear. No one likes false modesty.” I nodded, and she continued, “The reason I’ve been wanting to see you is to offer you the job in person.”

“What job?”

“Charity Director, of course.” I nearly dropped my teacup as I stammered in befuddlement, “Wh— I… I… I don’t know what to say.”

*

I didn’t have the chance to consider whether even I wanted the job. My mind immediately honed in on the two biggest reasons to turn it down. The first was obvious. I couldn’t move on with my life until my Russian problem was solved. The second, I could not, and would not, attempt to work with Cynthia Price.

*

“What is there to say but yes, dear?” Brigid said. I cleared my throat, folded my hands, and replied, “Brigid, I’m immensely flattered, but—”

“But what? What reservations could you possibly have?”

“I… I simply have… other obligations.”

“Other obligations? Such as what?”

“It’s just not a good time for me right now, that’s all. I’m honored, but I’m sorry, I must decline.”

*

Brigid looked away, focusing on the tea in her hand for several moments before placing the cup and saucer on the tray and saying, “Natalie, there’s no other way to say it; I am greatly disappointed in you.” She met my eyes and finished, “I have no further desire for your company. You may leave.”

*

Stunned, I stood and headed for the door when she called after me, “Natalie.” I turned as she said, “Come back and have tea with me next week. I should be over my disappointment by then.” I truly admired the woman’s honesty. Suppressing an amused smile, I replied, “Of course, Brigid. I’d be glad to.”

~~~

Back in the Rolls Royce, I called Ronan. I generally avoided calling him at work. But I couldn’t deny, even to myself, that I needed to hear his voice. “Hello, lass,” he answered. How was it possible for his voice to sound even sexier on the phone? “Hi,” I responded, unable to conceal the dejection I felt.

“Natalie, what’s wrong?” I was momentarily thrown by the level of concern in his tone. “Natalie?”

“I’ve disappointed your grandmother.”

“How so?”

“She offered me a job, and I turned her down. She’s really upset with me.”

“I sincerely doubt that, lass.”

*

When I didn’t respond, Ronan said, “Where are you? I’ll treat you to lunch.”

“We just left Brigid’s.”

“I’ll meet you at Antonio’s.” He disconnected, and as I passed the plan along to Harrison, I couldn’t help but smile.

~~~

I waited patiently in the backseat of the car, parked in front of the restaurant, until I saw Ronan’s Mercedes glide past the entrance. “Thank you, Harrison,” I told the driver as he opened my door.

“Always a pleasure, Ms. Natalie.”

*

Ronan and I met in the middle of the lot. He put a hand on the side of my face and kissed my forehead as I pointed out, “You don’t usually take time off for lunch, Mr. Ó Ceallaigh.”

“Let’s hope my wife isn’t angry if I’m late for dinner,” he teased.

*

Side by side, we approached the restaurant entrance. However, before we reached the door, someone called, “Natalie!” I spun around to find a familiar face jogging to catch up to me. “Natalie! I thought you’d disappeared off the face of the earth.” He reached out for a hug, which I happily reciprocated, exclaiming, “Grant! Oh my gosh, I’m so glad to see you!”

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