The Player and the Pixie
Page 81

I gave her a shaky nod then proceeded to spill my guts. I told both her and Broderick everything, the entire saga of Sean Cassidy and Lucy Fitzpatrick, sans the Sean being rubbish in the sack part.
They listened, and Annie wore a thoughtful expression completely free of judgment. It was a world away from how Ronan had stared at me with stunned disbelief, as he somehow came to the conclusion I was in love with Sean.
Was I in love with him?
I rubbed at my chest, where a swelling ache had lingered ever since I left that note for him to find. How could I end things when all I wanted to do was curl myself around him and never let go?
Trying to ignore these perturbing thoughts, I turned back to Annie. “I’m so sorry I made a scene on the eve of your wedding.”
She waved away my apology. “Please. I don’t care about that. I care about you.”
“I have no idea what to do.” I shook my head, new tears leaking from the corners of my eyes.
She pursed her lips, opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Well, I think you should be with Sean, Lucy.”
I opened my mouth to object and she lifted a hand to stop me.
“I understand your reservations. You’re going to have a hell of a time talking Ronan around. He almost burst a blood vessel when I told him I’d invited Sean to the wedding. But, honey, it’s your life. Not Ronan’s. You need to live it and stop worrying so much about what he—or your mother for that matter—thinks about your decisions. You have to trust that Ronan is going to love you no matter what.”
Her response both gave me hope and deflated me. I was happy she thought I should be with him, but depressed she’d echoed my worries over Ronan.
Annie opened her mouth to speak again when an insistent knock sounded at the door. “Lucy, open up,” came Ronan’s stern voice. Annie froze in place.
“The wedding’s tomorrow. You can’t see me, go away,” she called to him, frazzled.
Ronan’s tone softened a little. “I’m sorry, love. Could you go into the other room for a little while? I need to talk to my sister.”
Annie glanced at me in question but I fervently shook my head, sniffing and wiping my nose with the back of my hand. I needed a tissue and a hiding place.
“You’re going to have to talk to him eventually,” she whispered, and I grimaced.
“She’s right. Go talk to your bro,” Rick added, whispering too.
“What are you all whispering about in there? I can hear whispering,” Ronan grumped.
I sighed and said, “Fine, I’ll talk to him. Now you and Rick go hide in the other room.”
They each gave me sympathetic looks before walking through the doorway leading to one of the bedrooms. Once the door was shut, I released a shaky exhale and went to let my brother in. Ronan strode inside with purpose, a foreign restlessness about him as if he didn’t know where to begin.
He shot me a deeply concerned look as he paced.
Unable to take his anxious silence, I blurted, “I’m so sorry.”
He stopped pacing, his eyes narrowed on me as he questioned, “For what?”
I gathered another large inhale and responded on a rush, “I am so sorry for causing the scene downstairs. It’s your wedding tomorrow and I know that was selfish and destructive. I promise, I was so much better. I hadn’t stolen anything in almost six months before the summer. But then I—”
Ronan waved his hands through the air and spoke over me. “Lucy, you have a compulsion. I’m not saying stealing is fine and dandy. I’m saying it’s a problem and it needs to be fixed. Once and for all.”
I nodded contritely and repeated, “I’m so sorry.”
My brother’s eyes softened and he gave me a small smile. “Stop being sorry. You’re not a bad person. I’m just worried about you.”
I nodded, pressing my lips together and firming my chin to keep it from wobbling. We stood apart from each other, my big brother—my hero—and me.
The disappointment.
The embarrassment.
I was so tired of being the embarrassment.
Speaking of . . .
“Is Sean okay?” I asked hesitantly.
Ronan let out a mirthless laugh, his gaze losing some of its softness as he began pacing again. “Yes, he’s fine.”
“He wasn’t arrested?”
“No.”
“Oh, good. That’s good,” I said, relief setting in. I’d been so worried.
On one hand, I was amazed by the way he’d stepped in and tried to divert the blame away from me. On the other hand, I was irritated with how he’d stepped in and diverted the blame away from me.
I’d stolen the overpriced balls. The blame rested on my shoulders. I needed to take responsibility for my actions. So, yes, I was glad he hadn’t been arrested for my fecking everything up.
When Ronan finally stopped stomping around like an angry bull, he asked, “Start from the beginning, tell me how all this . . . business between you and Cassidy . . . Tell me how it came about.”
I shrugged, unable to maintain eye contact for very long. My attention kept flittering about the room like a manic wasp.
“I’m waiting, Lucy,” Ronan lifted his voice.
I wiped at my eyes, glancing at the carpet. “We first met at a party for the rugby team. I thought he was awful,” I told him honestly.
“Right. So how do you go from thinking he’s awful to looking at him with big googly eyes?” he asked with a wild hand gesture.