Chapter 83 ACCUSATIONS
WILLA’S POV
Gallahan’s hands were balled into tight fists at his sides, and I could almost make out the mild tremors of barely suppressed anger in them.
“Because a relationship goes both ways, Willa,” he said softly, yet his tone carried a certain icy sharpness that would’ve made a lesser man tremble.
Except, I was no lesser man. So I slammed my sketchbook shut, carelessly tossed it and my broken pencil aside on the couch, and said evenly, “But that’s the thing, Gallahan. Is there even a relationship between us? What even are we?”
Gallahan’s throat visibly bobbed up and down as he swallowed. Then his jaws tensed as the fiery hardness in his gaze flickered with uncertainty for a fleeting while.
“We’re fucking mates, Willa,” he answered, meeting my own gaze head on, as if doing so could give some sort of truth in what he was saying. “You’re mine as much as I am yours. Did that fact fail to get through your head?”
“Let’s not kid ourselves, Gallahan,” I said, smiling at him wanly. “You and I know you aren’t truly mine. Never was. Never will be.”
“And why is that? Is it because of the damn war? Well, let me tell you just in case the news hasn't reached you and your quiet little sequestered life in this cottage. The war is fucking over already, Willa! It’s over! Has been in the last six years! You couldn’t use that excuse anymore not to be with me.”
“It’s not just that, and you know it,” I replied simply but firmly.
“Oh, I do? Oh, fucking hell.” Gallahan chuckled, sounding strangled with annoyance. “Have you gotten any access in my head? Because you sound so fucking sure.”
“Or you simply couldn’t keep up with the number of women you’ve had in your arms.”
“What in the world are you talking about? I am no philandering asshole, Willa.”
“Let’s not act as if you and Miss Banfey didn’t parade your actual relationship before the start of the Ascension Rite.”
Confusion was written clearly in the lines of Gallahan’s face. He was blinking with furrowed brows, as if he was mentally trying to put the puzzle pieces together.
But I wasn’t too kind to wait for him to catch up and get on the same page. My tongue was loose, and words kept spilling out of me before I could really think them through.
“And really, Gallahan… On the same night, we fucked and completed our bond. Then we nested with our kids for weeks! Weeks, Gallahan!”
“I-” Gallahan started to say, but I didn’t give him a chance to get another word out.
No. Not just yet. Because I was far from done, and I couldn’t seem to find it in me to reign my mouth in.
“And then once the nesting was over? You dropped a bomb that there’s a betrothal arrangement between you and Elodie Drummond.”
Gallahan’s eyebrows went up at the mention of her name. It was quite odd, yet I didn’t bother dwelling on this fact for longer than a split second.
“It was just roughly a month after we mated! Do you have any idea how that makes me feel as a woman?”
Something akin to surprise intermingled with a bit of guilt crossed Gallahan’s features. It sent my heart galloping angrily within my ribcage, as if trying to break free. Still, it wasn’t enough to falter my haranguing.
“Then you disappeared for almost three weeks without a bloody word to assure our children who were waiting for you with so much hope and trust, even though they barely know you. And now you’re here, you’re telling me you were too busy with Elodie Drummond that the thought of keeping in touch with them didn’t even occur to you. You lack self-awareness, Gallahan. You lack so much of it that it is very astounding. Because you ARE actually a philandering asshole.”
Silence lapsed between us for a fleeting moment as we stared at each other.
My chest was rising and falling as I breathed like I had just ran a lap around the entire moorlands of Wolverham. But as cathartic as my rant was, tension still lined my spine, making my back stiff as an iron rod.
Gallahan then shattered the thick silence with a short laugh that rang with disbelief and mild amusement.
“Fucking hell, Willa,” he replied with a shake of his head. “You amaze me. You truly haven’t changed, have you? You are still as self-righteous and as judgmental as you were when we met.”
I almost bristled indignantly at his remark, ready to strangle him the same way I did in the hedge maze. But I feared the possibility of Gillian suddenly arriving home and seeing such a violent side of me.
So I held myself back, ignoring the buzzing need to punch and choke the aggravating man who was still yapping on.
“I see how the years we were apart hadn’t taught you to communicate properly and to avoid drawing hasty judgments. Because damn it all, Willa. If you could just allow me to explain, you wouldn’t be frothing at the mouth with jealousy.”
Gallahan crossed his arms against his chest as he stood all lax and calm, as if he hadn’t been taut and trembling with tension just moments before.
“Jealousy?!” I burst out, affronted and nettled down to my very core. “I am not jealous! The issue is about you and your-”
Gallahan snorted. But it lacked the derision I kind of expected from him. “Who really lacks the self-awareness here, Willa? Me or you? Because you are jealous, and you’re just picking up fights with me out of frustration.”
“I am not-”
“Alright, alright,” he interjected breezily, rocking himself on the balls of his feet for a second or two. “Let’s just say I believe that you’re really not jealous and the bone you want to pick with me is truly just about the kids and my prolonged absence… Happy?”
I kept my mouth sealed this time, refusing to further dignify our conversation with a response, and to give him anything else to twist and fit into his narrative.
But I gave him the nastiest glare I could, hoping it would be enough to make him know I wanted to claw his face and gouge his eyes out.
He remained unfazed, though, as he airily said, “But since you’ve accused me of all these things, shouldn’t I get the chance to explain my side? It is only fair, is it not? I mean, you’re all about justice and fairness and equality. Right?”
I didn’t like the smug sarcasm in his tone, so I still didn’t reply. I picked up my sketchbook and the lower half of my broken pencil, then returned to my unfinished drawing.
Somehow, he took the cold shoulder treatment as a yes and began explaining himself.