Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94527 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
My best friend was very much devoted to the church, although he was fantastic at cherry-picking, and he’d forgotten the Ten Commandments. But I liked one thing he’d told me.
“The church is ours. We call it God’s house, but it’s ours to maintain. We as followers are given the honor and responsibility to represent our faith. Either we do it by welcoming people, or we shut them out.”
“I show up for two reasons. Appearances—it’s expected of me—and Finn.” I hadn’t thought about it before, beyond public image and upholding traditions, but Finn was definitely a factor. “It means a lot to him to have us there.”
Something softened in Shan’s features, and he even smiled a little. “There’s my answer too. I went for Grace. Now I go for Finn.” Then he cleared his throat and reached for the whiskey bottle. “I suspect our reasons for not being as devoted as them are similar, and…” He chuckled. “I cannot believe I’m going to say this out loud to someone who isn’t my wife, but I suppose if anyone understands, it’s you.”
I furrowed my brow, thoroughly confused.
He shifted in his seat, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was nervous. “My main issue with our religion was always its views on homosexuality, and it was…personal to me. I suppose it still is.”
Pardon?
Personal?
“My experience with intimacy prior to being with Grace came from boarding school,” he admitted. “I had a relationship of sorts with one of my classmates.”
Classmate.
Intimacy.
Relationship.
He’d gone to an all-boys boarding school, just like Finn and Patrick.
Holy shit.
My heart started thrumming faster, but the alcohol kept it from going through the roof. “You’re gay?” I blurted out. Fuck no, he couldn’t be. He and Grace had shared the perfect marriage. “Grace was the love of your life.”
“She—I… Heh.” His shoulders slumped in defeat, and he grinned ruefully and shook his head. “Why am I telling you these things?” he grated out, seemingly to himself, in frustration. Then he ran a hand through his hair. “No, I’m not gay. What Grace and I shared was very much real—but it was different. We grew up together. She was my best friend. We knew our parents had plans for us. Bringing an O’Shea and a Murray together in marriage?” He let out a whistle. “Our fathers had been on board since the day Grace was born.” He took a sip of his drink, reminding me that my throat felt parched, so I did the same. A big, big gulp. ’Cause this wasn’t fucking happening, was it? “We were in love the day we got married. Our love was very easy. She already knew everything about me, and I wasn’t going to be the type of husband who chained her to the stove. We made sense.” He chose those words carefully. “She was the essence of my life force. My true aman cara.”
Soul mate.
“But not the way we tend to translate it into English,” he was quick to add, and I sat back a little. The words technically translated to— “She was my soul friend.” Yeah, that. “I didn’t feel complete unless I was with her. We could talk about anything—and we did. We’ve philosophized about everything. Hours and hours, nights disappeared… It was just—our love ran deep for this…this… I barely know what to call it, because friendship doesn’t sound profound enough. But, nevertheless, our beings connected on another level. It was spiritual and meant more to me than any religion ever could.”
I didn’t know what he was trying to tell me anymore. It still sounded like the perfect marriage.
I wanted to get back to the other topic and try to wrap my head around the fact that Shannon O’Shea was…what, bisexual?
I’d never had to silence that pathetic little voice in my head more rapidly than now.
I was not going down that road.
“But it lacked the unbridled passion you’d normally want between a husband and a wife,” he finished quietly. “Which we were fine with.” Maybe he wasn’t finished after all. “No marriage is perfect, but we came damn near close.”
I felt my forehead wrinkle. “Isn’t passion kind of a key ingredient?”
“Probably? I’m not sure I’d recognize it if I experienced it now.” He chuckled softly. “We still had attraction, though. And we were blessed to get twenty-eight wonderful years together.”
I chewed on the inside of my cheek and wondered if that was something that could bring him back to life eventually. At the moment, Shan didn’t strike me as someone who would remarry, but there were options. I’d helped guys in the syndicate arrange other types of relationships for years.
I wasn’t sure I could stomach the notion of setting him up with a dude, though. What if I got jealous? Christ, I could already feel my gut tightening at the idea. Nope. I’d find him a good woman to keep on the side.