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CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CONOR

A FEW DAYS LATER

I take another sip of my coffee, the bitterness of the dark roast biting at my tongue. Sunlight filters through the kitchen windows, casting shadows across the table in the breakfast nook as I take my seat. Elena sits across from me, our cups and a plate of croissants between us.

We don’t say much, but it’s comfortable. Simple. I can’t seem to stop myself from watching her, sipping her coffee and biting into the flaky pastries. Her mussed-up black hair falls into her face and over the rosy hue of her round cheeks. Fuck, she’s beautiful.

The light shuffle of feet draws my attention toward the other end of the kitchen. I turn my head, and my breath catches. Victoria is a mess. Her hair is tousled, falling in loose tangles around her shoulders. Her robe is untied, hanging open at the front, revealing my grossly too-large T-shirt beneath it. I can’t help but smile at the sight. She’s a wreck—a side she doesn’t show the world—and it’s fucking breathtaking.

“What are you smirking at?” she scoffs.

Standing carefully, holding my side as I push myself from the seat, I grit through the sharp stab of pain—a welcome consequence from my shower with Elena the other night. “You,” I exhale, crossing the room to her. Pressing my lips to her cheek near her ear, I whisper, “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

She rolls her eyes, fighting the smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “Good morning.”

Slipping my hand around her back, I nudge her lightly and gesture toward the table. “Come sit. We’ve got coffee and pastries.”

Not one to usually eat breakfast, she feigns a small protest but walks toward the table and plops into the seat beside Elena. My eyes flick between the two of them as I retake my place across the table. They’re inches apart, but you’d think there was a wall between the two of them. And I don’t like it.

As the pain in my side has dulled over the past few days, I’ve grown acutely aware of the tiny changes in their behavior toward each other. They aren’t looking at each the way they used to. The fleeting touches and lingering glances between them have all but disappeared.

I might be an idiot— at least, according to Declan, most of the time— but I know when things aren’t right. And something hasn’t been right with the two of them since I got hurt. Setting my coffee cup on the table, I blurt, “We need to talk.” Poor fucking choice of words. The kitchen immediately grows silent, and Elena freezes mid-bite as an unpleasant scowl spreads over Victoria’s face.

“Not like that. I didn’t mean it in the breakup way.” I quickly bumble through my correction. “But we need to talk.” It’s not a question or a suggestion. I love my relationship with the two of them and miss what we were just a couple of weeks ago.

“About what?” Elena asks hesitantly, her tone laced with insecurity.

“I’ve been watching you,” I admit, my tone sounding much harsher than I intend. “Something is off. It has been for days. The two of you are avoiding each other. You’re not the same.”

Victoria’s eyes narrow, but she stays silent as she tightens her hold on her coffee cup. Elena’s lips press together, like she’s holding back a response. “Conor,” Elena blurts out my name, unable to bite her tongue. “What are you trying to say?”

“That I’m not blind,” I reply firmly. “And I know neither are you. Something is going on. I don’t know what it is, but it’s affecting all of us. And I don’t like it.”

The room grows silent again, minus the hum of the refrigerator. I’ve just opened a can of worms, and judging by the looks on their faces and the sudden tension in the room, I might’ve gone a bit too far this early in the morning. Maybe this was a wine and whiskey conversation, not a coffee one.

Victoria leans back in her chair, defensively crossing her arms over her chest. Her voice quiet, and laced with disbelief, she asks, “Do you think we’re hiding something from you?”

“No, cailín dáigh .” I shake my head. “I don’t think you’re hiding anything from me. I think you’re keeping something from each other . My girls don’t do that. The two of you are so fucking comfortable sharing what’s on your mind. Hell, it’s how I wound up here.”

I meet Elena’s gaze and then Victoria’s, both of them clearly feeling what I’m voicing. “This”—I gesture between the three of us—“This doesn’t work unless all of us are willing to do the work to hold us together. We all need to be open and honest about what we’re feeling.”

I wait for either of them to say anything, the silence absolutely unbearable. Elena’s gaze falls to the table, and her hands curl around her coffee mug like she’s clinging to it for comfort. “I don’t know what’s going on with us.” Elena’s voice is barely a whisper as her eyes stay glued to the cup between her hands. “But I feel like Victoria doesn’t want me anymore.”

Victoria tightens her arms around her chest, but they no longer look defensive. Instead, she looks like she’s holding herself together.

Standing, I round the table and kiss the tops of their heads as I inform them, “I’m going to club for a bit. You two… You need time. To talk this out.” I don’t wait for a response because I don’t want to give them time to argue with me. As I head toward the door, I call over my shoulder, “I love you both. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

I just made a mess and left it for them to clean up, but they need it.