“Preaching to the choir.”
I grumbled, “I’m not crazy. I just don’t like it when my family is hurt.”
“Who was hurt?”
“A lot of people,” I said grimly. “Now, Michael, I’d like to know why the ECD needed Michelle Keegan to die.” And why they used my mother as the murder weapon.
“Who’s Michelle Keegan?” Star questioned. “Why do I know that surname?”
“You know Finn’s wife?” I asked.
“Yep. I know of her.”
“Her mom.”
“Ah.” Star’s brow furrowed. “I see… this really is personal.”
Did she sound disappointed?
If anyone was crazy here, it was her. Not me.
“Nothing more personal,” I confirmed. “That’s a problem for you, Michael. See, my father would just threaten to kill you, and you’d die, and that would be the end of that.
“You’d probably be feeling nice and smug that your death is going to have a purpose, so you’re further encouraged to hold out.
“But I’m not my father. I’m not someone who delivers death lightly to people.”
“No shit, Sherlock,” Star muttered. “Death by rat? That’s medieval-grade torture. I’d high five you if I were there.”
“That’s an ex-CIA agent giving me kudos, Michael. So I think we both know that this isn’t going to be a pleasant death.”
“Fuck—” An inhalation. “You.” Exhalation.
I sighed and turned back to my computer. “There are five levels to this program. You’ve only experienced the first one.”
I hit level two which had Michael’s pain-filled shrieks morphing into an endless squeal.
“Wonder how long it will take for him to break?” Star queried.
Hearing a noisy crunching sound over the video, I turned and found that she had a bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos on her lap.
“Settling in for the show?”
She nodded. “You’d better be entertaining.”
I rolled my eyes. “This isn’t Netflix, Star.”
“Nope, it’s even better.”
Twenty-Three
Aoife
A few days later
“I’m afraid, Mrs. O’Grady, the pregnancy isn’t viable.”
I stared at my doctor, willing her to say this was a joke, but it wasn’t.
I was already scheduled in for early screening because of the scars on my abdomen, but when the pain had returned during Aela and Declan’s ceremony, I’d headed to the doctor’s office the morning we returned from Boston, and they’d taken more tests.
Perhaps, in my heart of hearts, I’d known the truth, but I’d hoped I was wrong.
I stared down at my stomach where the bulge wasn’t even that prominent yet, and I rasped, “You have to be wrong.”
“I’m sorry but the tests confirm it. You know you’re a high-risk candidate for pregnancy, Mrs. O’Grady.” She shook her head. “To be frank, you’re fortunate we caught this here and now.
“These kinds of birth defects tend to be caught at the twelve-week scan. We can terminate now to alleviate the undue stress on your body.”
I jerked my head to the side. “I’m not going to do that.”
The doctor frowned. “Aoife, the child won’t survive past a few days without intensive, invasive surgeries that might not even work.
“Jake was a high-risk pregnancy, but he developed normally. This will be for nothing. You’ll suffer for nothing. Miscarriage is likely. Why wouldn’t you prefer to control when and how this happens?”
“I don’t understand how this is possible. Why would the baby’s legs fuse together?”
The doctor’s expression turned sorrowful. “It’s very uncommon, and the ultimate cause is unknown. What we do know is that babies born with sirenomelia have a host of other spinal and brain development issues.” She sighed when she took in my expression. “You shouldn’t be here alone, Aoife. Is your husband not attending with you today?”
Why did doctors always want to talk to the husband?
Mary Ellen, a friend of mine, had tried to get her tubes tied, but her prick of a doctor had made her get permission from her husband before he agreed to go ahead with the procedure.
Her husband.
Who should have had no say on her body and the right to do whatever she wanted with it.
Didn’t matter that another child after the two sets of twins she’d already had might kill her. She still needed permission from her jackass husband who spent more time dipping his wick in other women than in her.
No, this was my decision. Not Finn’s.
I needed to do some research. I needed to understand without this white noise whistling away in my ears, making it harder to understand what she was saying.
I got to my feet without replying to her and drifted out of the office as if I were in a daze.
She called out my name but I whispered, “I need to process this.”
Needed to process the impossible.
But I’d seen for myself.
Where two small legs should have been, there was…
It was…
A tail.
Like a mermaid.
Two little bones fused together, wrecking my hopes for—
No.
There was always hope.
“Aoife, you need to consider discussing the option of Mr. O’Grady having a vasectomy—”
Deaf to her words, I made my way to the door. As it opened, my guard was standing there, and I almost sagged into him.
Like he knew I needed the support, John cupped my elbow, and I peered up at him while he frowned down at me.
“Is everything okay, Aoife?”
What did I say?
If Finn knew about this appointment, he’d want to know what was going on. If he knew, he’d make me—
I couldn’t.
I just… I couldn’t have an abortion.
Was that selfish or selfless? I had no idea, but the prospect of…
I blew out a breath.
“I just feel woozy. I think they took too much blood.”
John frowned, but he nodded. “Damn doctors. You think they’d know when enough’s enough.”
“They should. You’re right,” I muttered, throwing my OBGYN under the bus because it saved face.
John guided me to the elevator, and I must have looked rough because he said, “Just wait here. I’ll get the car.”
Nodding, I leaned against the wall and waited for him. I placed a hand on my stomach then cringed when that pain hit me again.
It was such a weird feeling, and I’d gone through the gamut when I was carrying Jake. Abdominal scar tissue meant that pregnancy wasn’t easy for me.
In all honesty, I’d imagined it would be just as hard as before, but this blindsided me.
The pregnancy isn’t viable.
My child wasn’t viable.
Was it wrong to take that as an insult?
My child was perfect.
Except… he or she wasn’t. Because they’d live for a few hours if they survived long enough for me to give birth.
Pain slashed through me of a different nature this time. It had nothing to do with my womb, and everything to do with my heart.