Page 157 of Wasted

He watched her—silent, immovable. It was such a similar expression to the one he’d given her that night, when she had dried her tears and found him in his office to tell him his wife had died. Did that mean she had hurt him all over again? That the pain of this confession was as great as the grief he’d felt then?

“It’s good to see you on your feet again.”

She stared at him. Disbelief seemed to paralyze her brain. Hadn’t he heard what she had shared?

Of course he had. This was Dr. Henry Weston, the brilliant, world-renowned neurosurgeon who was also the most intelligent man she knew.

And he’d just said so much that she’d nearly missed it.

He turned away and left the room.

“Did you hear that?” Victoria pivoted in Cillian’s arm, facing him.

“Yeah.” He glanced past her to the door. “Weird reaction.”

“No.” She put a hand on Cillian’s chest. “He was saying he cares about me. That he still cares.” A smile lifted her mouth as relief and hope spilled through her. “That he forgives me.”

“He said all that?” Cillian’s eyebrows scrunched with incredulity.

“Yes.” She beamed her smile up at him, placing her other hand on his chest, as well. “He did.”

“He didn’t even blink or anything when you told him, though.”

“I know. I think he knew.”

“He knew?”

“Yes. All this time, he knew.” She shook her head. Why hadn’t he said anything to her that night? She would’ve expected him to be furious she had left, especially that she had left with Cillian. He must have at least been disappointed in her for leaving her mother and disobeying him. But he hadn’t said a word. He hadn’t removed any of her responsibilities and had fully trusted her to become like a mother to his children.

A few weeks ago, when Victoria had returned home to finish healing from her bullet wound, Hank had told her that their dad had overseen her care at the hospital. The night of the shooting, he had phoned Dr. Britton, the best trauma surgeon in Chicago, to ask him to drop everything on his night off and go to Rampart Memorial Hospital to perform Victoria’s surgery. During her recovery, Dad had also often called the hospital to check in on her healing and care.

She wasn’t surprised that he’d watched over her essential needs from afar. That was his way with his children, his way of loving them.

But to learn he had known what she’d done that awful night of Mom’s death but hadn’t blamed or confronted her about such a failing was an unbelievable gift. The discovery lifted a burden off her shoulders that she hadn’t fully realized she’d been carrying.

“You know, I think there might be more to your old man than I thought.”

The humor in Cillian’s voice drew Victoria’s full attention to him. “Oh?”

“Yeah. Like when he guessed we wanted to tell him we were getting married.” Cillian closed both arms around her back, cradling her. “That’s the best idea he’s ever had.”

A flush of warmth rushed to her cheeks.

“There it is.” Cillian brushed his knuckles ever so gently against her cheek. “I love it when you get flustered.” His voice dropped to a whisper that sent a shiver up her spine.

Then he dipped his head, touching his forehead to hers. “I’ll wait forever for you, Victoria Weston. But it’s your choice. If you want me to, I will even leave. But you know how I feel. What I want.” He drew in a ragged breath and lifted his head, his gaze staying locked on hers. “What do you want?”

She looked deeply into his dark eyes, the pools of the most intense love she’d ever seen. “I want you, Cillian. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

A broad, joyous grin split his face, and he wrapped her in his arms, lifting her off the ground as his lips met hers in a kiss that left her breathless and blushing.

When he finally ended the kiss and lowered her back to the floor, Cillian was breathing as hard as she was. His eyes roamed her features. “Now that was worth waiting for.” He brushed a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. “Want to do it again?” His slightly wicked grin spiked a thrill through her.

“I think we had better join the others.” She stepped back, but slipped her hand into his, threading their fingers together.

“Yes, ma’am.”

As soon as they crossed the entryway and rejoined the others in the living room, Spring’s eyes grew wide. “What were you two up to?”