Perfect Sinner by Maggie Cole

14

Gemma

After twenty minutes pass,I put clothes on and go into the kitchen. Molly has an empty plate in front of her and a cup of espresso. My anger grows deeper.

Nolan has an uneaten omelet in front of him that may or may not have been mine. A bit is missing. My espresso is on the other side of Molly. Frankly, it's exactly how she's making me feel—shoved aside. She's blabbing about something I don't even comprehend. I can't. My blood is boiling so much, I have to remind myself not to pick up a knife from the butcher block and start stabbing her.

All I see is her leaning close to Nolan. His hardened expression focuses solely on the computer screen, and his fingers are typing quickly.

He always looks like that when he's working.

How many times does her computer need fixing? Didn't he fix it the first night we met?

The more time Nolan spends trying to fix Molly's computer, the more pissed I become. I pick up my mug of cold espresso and go to the other side of the counter. I rinse out my cup and put it under the machine to make a fresh drink.

Nolan stops typing. His voice is softer than usual. "Your omelet's here. Want me to heat it up for you?" His green eyes meet mine.

"You should. It's delicious. Of course, Nolan's always been a great chef." Molly smiles at me, as if we're best friends. Then she turns toward him. "Do you remember the baked eggs with swiss chard and green olives you made a few months ago? Omgeee! It was soooo good!"

I glare at Nolan. "No, thanks. I seemed to have lost my appetite." I hit the button for my espresso. It's bad enough he made her the same goat cheese sandwich he grilled for me, but he made her breakfast, too?

He tilts his head, licks his lips, and stares at me.

"You were so kind to take care of me the night before." Molly puts her hand on his bicep and gives him puppy dog eyes.

I swallow the bile coming up my throat. I fixate on the black liquid coming out of the machine and curse myself. Bad boys are all the same—liars, cheaters, and total players. Nolan is no different.

He didn't cheat on me.

Not yet.

He lied about their relationship. Something has gone on.

How exactly did he take care of her?

Nolan's jaw clenches. He mutters, "You shouldn't have drunk so much." He rises, picks up the laptop, and sits in the oversized armchair.

Molly smirks at me.

A debate rages in my head about throwing hot espresso on her and if I could go to jail for it. Is it a type of assault and battery if I burn her? I fixate on the black liquid coming out of the machine. As soon as it's filled, I pick it up, along with my laptop. I leave and go into the office. I've already finished everything for the one job I had, so there's nothing to do. Instead, I go down a path I shouldn't.

I pull up my social media accounts. I type in Nolan O'Malley, but his account is on lockdown. Since we aren't following each other, I can't look at anything. Even his profile picture is blank.

I type in Declan next, but it's the same. Killian's, however, is full-blown public. He has hundreds of thousands of followers. Instead of getting drawn into all of Killian's selfies, shots of him boxing, and the girls hanging on him, I scroll his connections.

There you are, you little brat.

I click on Molly's. It's just as public as Killian's. Once again, I might get sick. Her profile only has photos of a few girlfriends, her mom, and her brother, which looks like it's only from video conferencing calls. There are a few random photos of the staff at O'Malley's, Nolan's brothers, and Nora. But there are tons of her and Nolan. She's usually hanging on him. Most of their pictures are at the pub, except a few that catch my eyes.

One is of her in Nolan's T-shirt. My stomach flips. It's the one I was wearing this morning. She's holding the phone in front of her and Nolan is in the background. His back is in the photo and he's facing his stove. She looks rather rough. Her makeup from the night before is still on her face and her hair is down but not brushed. The captions reads, He saves me and cooks! Glad nothing bad happened to me last night! I hope I can stomach this since he's going to so much trouble to take care of me this morning. The post after is a picture of food with the caption, Baked Eggs with Swiss Chard and Green Olives. Soooooo yum! It's dated several months ago.

Then there's the night Nolan left me alone and found me with a bottle of pills. She posted a photo of him talking to a medical professional. She tagged the location as St. Joseph's hospital. Her caption reads, Soooooo grateful I have this guy in my life to make sure I'm okay!

It was less than an hour after he left the house. So why didn't he come home for hours? My heartbeat picks up. I take several deep breaths and torture myself further by continuing to study it.

He never told me he was with her.

He lied to me.

Did he?

No. He just avoided the truth.

I was about to kill myself, and he was taking care of her.

I have no right to be angry. We weren't together. But something about him getting a phone call and leaving me to take care of her stings. And not like a mosquito bite. It's like a thousand bees attacking my body and all feasting on my skin at different times.

The picture and caption on my screen mock me. I don't know how long I stare at them until I shut my laptop. Nothing calms me. I stay in the office, too afraid of what I might say or do. The wound on my thigh itches. And my reality comes flying back to me.

Why did Orla say that about my mother?

I pace the office for hours. Another war rages in my mind about whether Orla could be telling the truth or not. I want to convince myself my mother can't be a murderer, but I never thought she was involved with the Irish mob until a few months ago.

Nolan comes into the room, and I freeze. He softly says, "Sorry that took so long."

I jerk my head back. "That's all you have to say?"

He scrubs his face. "What do you want me to say, Gemma?"

Millions of comebacks come into my brain, but nothing seems like it's ever going to make Nolan see Molly as the woman she is instead of his best friend's little sister. She's a conniving, manipulative woman who calculates her moves. I don't trust her around Nolan. She's trying to do everything to make him hers. Plus, he couldn't tell me about the night he was at the hospital with her. I don't even want to know what he did to take care of her months previously that required him to make her breakfast the next morning.

"I don't want you to say anything. You're pretty good at that anyway," I fire back and brush past him.

"What does that mean?" he asks, following me.

"Figure it out. I'm over this entire thing, whatever this is." I go into my bedroom and lock the door.

He attempts to open the door. "Gemma!"

"Go away. In fact, why don't you run down the street to Molly."

"That's not fair. I didn't know she was coming over," he claims.

"So what? You didn't have any problem inviting her in."

"Her mom needed to make her doctor's appointments. What did you want me to do? Her mother has severe diabetes and other health issues," he states.

I turn my phone on and blast the music. I flop down on the bed and bury my face in the pillow.

"You're acting like a child," he shouts then bangs on the door.

"Go away!" I yell.

He bangs on the door again, but I don't respond. "Fine. Be immature."

I assume he walked away. Song after song plays. I try to quiet my mind about all the questions I have regarding my mother, along with those about Nolan and Molly. But it's an atomic bomb going off, and I'm underneath it.

Nolan bangs on the door. "You have five minutes to get out of this room with your workout clothes on. And pack a bag if you want fresh clothes when we're finished. We aren't coming directly home."

"It's raining!" I yell.

"We're going to the gym."

I jump off the bed and yank the door open. "Are you trying to remind me that Orla assaulted me yesterday?"

He scowls. "Not your gym. My gym. Get ready, or I'm carrying you out of the house in your current clothes."

"Wow! I see you're back to prince charming."

He ignores me and leaves while warning, "Five minutes."

Irritated, I slam the door, throw on my workout clothes, and pack a bag. I meet him in the family room, and we say nothing. He leads me to the car, we get in, and drive to the gym in silence.

He protectively puts his arm around me when we get out of the car. I should shirk out of it, but I don't. As soon as we get inside, he releases me.

I freeze. A boxing ring is in the middle of the room. Imprinted on the floor is a Celtic cross. The Celtic letter O in the middle of it, and a ring of Celtic knots is behind the cross. Written under it is O'Malley.

Speed bags and heavy bags used for kicking or punching hang from the ceiling. One corner has exercise equipment. Several younger guys are working out with trainers, but the gym is pretty empty.

"This way," Nolan mutters.

I follow him, and he leads me down a hallway. He points. "Lockers are in there. And you don't have to worry in this gym about Baileys being here."

"Heard that before," I mumble and go inside. I choose a locker, throw my bag in it, and change my shoes. After I go to the bathroom, I wash my hands, but the water is only cold.

I meet Nolan near the punching bags. "There's no hot water in there."

"Yeah. It's been like that for a while."

"Why don't you fix it?"

He shrugs. "Women don't come in here. The men's works fine."

I huff.

He ignores me and hands me a pair of fingerless gloves. He instructs, "Put these on."

"I'll just go run on the treadmill."

He arches his eyebrows. "Too scared to try something new?"

I grab the gloves from him and shove my fingers in them. "Fine." I take a swing, and the bag flies forward, then back at me.

Nolan catches it a moment before it hits my face. "You have to stand in the correct position. Like this." He demonstrates.

I sigh and stand how he is.

He takes a few minutes to instruct me how to punch then steps back once I get into a rhythm. "Good. Let me know when you get tired."

"I'm not going to get tired," I claim, but my arms are already burning.

He snorts. "Sure." He picks up a rope and begins jumping.

Several minutes pass, and I think my arms might fall off. Something beeps. Nolan tosses the rope on the ground. "Switch."

I do what he says, relieved to stop punching. I pick up the rope and jump, watching him hit the bag like a pro, wishing he didn't look so damn sexy.

There's another beep. He stops and says, "Plank time," then drops to the ground.

I move into the plank position, concentrating on squeezing my core. It burns when the beep fills the air.

"Back to the bag," Nolan orders.

I return to punching it, imagining Orla's and Molly's faces. The beep fills the air, and we do several more rounds.

"Gemma. What are you doing here?" Liam's voice fills the air.

I stop punching the bag and spin. I tug my shirt to wipe my face. Something about seeing Liam sets me off again. "Can't exactly work out at the gym I go to when Orla got herself a membership there, now can I?"

His face hardens. "When did this happen?"

I angrily shake my head. "Last night. Nolan said it was all clear, but apparently, your guys aren't well versed in checking out women's locker rooms. I thought I was going to get my neck sliced off."

Liam turns to Nolan. "Who was guarding her? Why didn't you tell me?"

Nolan stops jumping and drops the rope on the floor. "Tiernan and Fergal. I told you they were too inexperienced for this."

Liam defensively says, "They've done security for my dad for over ten years."

"They aren't the smartest representation of the O'Malleys now, are they?" Nolan grabs a bottle of water and downs a quarter of it.

More anger erupts. "Gee, thanks for telling me I was in good hands and safe when you had concerns, Nolan."

Guilt crosses his face, but it disappears quickly. "Go back to punching your bag. Get it out before we get home."

"I know what I'd be happy to punch. If you'll excuse me, I think I'll go work out in peace instead of near the man who would be happy if I got slaughtered in public." I glare at Nolan and move to the other side of the gym.

I work out for a few minutes when Nolan calls out, "Gemma, we're leaving in fifteen minutes. Be ready to go."

I do a few more exercises then decide I need to shower. Nothing is calming me down anyway. I walk toward the locker room, and Liam says, "What did Orla say to her?"

I step next to him and quickly spout my lie, "I violated a rule when Nolan turned off my location tracker on my cell phone. I got this lovely new scar when your cousins realized they hadn't checked that area of the gym out and held a gun pointed to both our heads. I guess I should be grateful it was my leg instead of my neck, which is where she held the blade on me originally." I shoot Nolan another dirty look.

"Not sure why you're looking at me. Liam decided who was watching you when I can't," Nolan fires back.

Liam scans my body. "Where on your leg?"

"My upper thigh. Near all my reproductive organs," I state.

"Stop being dramatic. Your inner thigh isn't where your reproductive organs are," Nolan chastises me.

Liam glances at my leg. "Are you okay? Did you go to the hospital?"

My cheeks turn crimson, thinking about how Nolan glued my thigh then ate me out. "No. Nolan said it wasn't deep and cleaned it up. I'm going to get changed." I brush past them and go into the locker room. I remove my bag and turn on the shower, but the water is cold.

"Shit." I turn it off and close my eyes. "Screw this." I pick up my bag and go into the men's room.

Two men in their twenties are sitting on the bench. One is wrapping the other guy's hand with tape. He looks up and says, "Can I help you, sweetheart?"

I smile. "Point me to the showers?"

The other man turns and eyes me over. "Need some assistance?"

"Nope. Think I can handle it, but thanks."

The first guy points. "Around that corner."

"Thanks!" I wave and make my way to the showers. I freeze when I get to them. There are twelve showerheads, all in an open area.

"She came in with Nolan. He'll kill you," one of the men says.

I take a deep breath, turn on the water, and drown out their voices. When the water turns hot, I peel off my clothes and step under it and close my eyes.

"What do you think you're doing in here?" Nolan booms, and it echoes off the tiles.

I jump. "Taking a hot shower. There's a cold one in the women's room waiting for you."

Loud snickers fill the air, and Nolan spins and disappears. He shouts, "Get the fuck out!"

"Chill out. We can't see her."

"Now!" Nolan bellows.

I pump a handful of shampoo into my hand from the wall container and rub it in my hair. I'm rinsing it out when Nolan steps into the shower naked and turns on the other faucet. He scowls and steps in front of me. Sweat coats his body, and I force myself to stare at his eyes and not his ripped, inked flesh. He comments, "Not sure what you're trying to accomplish, princess."

"Stop being such a hypocrite," I accuse then return to rinsing my hair.

"Hypocrite?" he foams.

"Yeah. You want to get all bent out of shape due to a few guys being in here where they can't even see me. Yet, you spend all morning with your... what should I call her? Your ex? Your fuck buddy? What exactly is she?"

Red bursts into his cheeks. He steps closer until I'm pinned against the wall. "How many times do I have to tell you she's my best friend's sister? I've never been into her and never will be."

"Yeah, well, maybe if you were Mr. Full Transparency, I'd be able to believe what comes out of your mouth," I accuse.

He grabs my chin and brings his face in front of mine. "What are you talking about?"

"Next time you say, 'I have to go out. Something came up,' I'll remember it means your dick misses her and not to wait up," I roar.

His eyes turn to green fire. "I'm getting sick of being accused of shit I haven't done."

I laugh sarcastically then point in his face. "Next time you want to hide something, make sure your girlfriend doesn't take pictures and post it all over the place."

He steps so close to me, his skin touches mine. He lowers his voice. "What in God's name are you talking about?"

My insides quiver. Emotions hit me like a brick to the face, and it's too many things packed into the stone. There's the shame of what I did that night. All the years of dating men who cheated, and I took them back only for them to do it again, just because I wanted to be loved so badly. And then there's the worst reality of all. It's the fact that Nolan seems like he's a thousand times the man any of them ever were, yet it feels like the same thing. I blink hard and look away, not wanting to show him anything I feel. I've given too many men my tears, and I'm not giving them to him.

He slowly but firmly states, "Gemma, I need to know what you meant by that statement."

I find the courage to lock eyes with him. "Where were you the night you left me home, and Orla wouldn't stop messaging me?"

The color drains from his face. He swallows hard. "It's not what you think."

I shove him, but he's too strong and doesn't budge. "Jesus. Do you know how many times I've heard that?"

"Darcey called from the pub. She cut her hand. I had to take her to the hospital—"

"Why? Because no one else could? Because you had to be the one to rescue her? And what did you do after for all those hours? What did she do for you since she was 'soooooo grateful you were making sure she was okay?'" I put my fingers in quotes.

He runs his hands through his hair and closes his eyes. "Gemma, I need you to listen to me."

I shake my head. "No. I'm finished listening, Nolan. The time for me to listen was weeks ago. You chose not to talk. And for someone who's a computer guru, it sure is amazing how you don't cover your tracks."

Confusion fills his face. "What does that mean?"

"Move!" I push him again.

"Gemma—"

"I need you to move, Nolan. I mean it!" I push him again, and this time he takes a step back. I get out of the shower, grab the towel, and wrap it around my body.

He turns the water off and follows me. He grabs my shoulder. "Gemma—"

I spin on him. "How do you not see what everyone else does? Have you never looked at her social media account?"

He shakes his head. "Why would I look at her account? I barely go on mine."

I stare at the ceiling, a million different ways about how to end this conversation spin through my mind. I finally pin my gaze on his. "I'm done playing second fiddle to other women. And I'll be damned if I play it to Molly."