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“Because you should have him. Not me.” Her voice breaks on the last word. “I don’t want to marry Fionn. I don’t want to live in that house. I don’t want to be in a world where men decide where I go, who I marry, what I’m worth, and how much damage I’m allowed to make before they call me ungrateful.”
The bed dips under my knees as I climb next to her, wrapping her in a hug.
Eilish folds into me so quickly it hurts. Her hands clutch the back of my top.
“I tried to talk to my father,” she says against my shoulder.
“What did he say?”
Her laugh is wet and weepy. “What do you think?”
My arms tighten around her.
“I told him I didn’t want the wedding. That I can’t do it. He said if I humiliated him by causing a scene, he’d cut me off.”
“Eilish.”
“He’d take everything away from me,” she says, pulling back to wipe her face with the heel of her hand. “My inheritance. My trust fund and every bank account he set up for me. He said I’d have nothing. No protection. No family name to fall back on and no place in the Kinnane family.”
Anger rises so fast I almost choke on it. “That bastard.”
“He doesn’t see me as a daughter.” Her voice cracks. “I’m just something to use for business. It’s always been that way, but deep down I believed he would listen. That he’d put my happiness first.”
I sit back on my heels, stroking her hand.
The worst part is that I can’t tell her she’s wrong. Art Kinnane threw her money instead of love, and her mother trained her to be the perfect socialite wife.
“Would it really be so bad?” I ask quietly.
Her eyes lift to mine, and I swallow, my stomach churning.
“I mean marrying Fionn.”
Eilish stares at me as if I’ve just spoken in another language, her face contorting. “How can I marry Fionn when he’s in love with you?”
“Oh please, Eilish. Don’t talk shit.” My laugh comes out too high-pitched. “This is Fionn Harrington we’re talking about. Men like him don’t fall in love with women like me.”
“Sera.”
“He’s not.”
“Sera.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Fionn and I had a moment. A stupid one. Several stupid ones. That doesn’t mean—”
“It means something to him.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do now.”
She wipes her cheek, then looks down at her hands.
“I didn’t see it at first. I thought he watched you because you were a Tallon. Because you annoyed him. Because you were the one person in every room who would stab him in the neck with a broken champagne flute.”
“That is a valid reason to watch someone.”
“It wasn’t just that, though.” Eilish exhales and reaches for her phone on the duvet. “Here.”
