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Tom’s laughing in earnest now, with tears in the corners of his eyes.
“About fifteen minutes later, we hear Lance’s phone ring, and his mom answers, and then she yells down the stairs. ‘Shawn! Are you down there?’
“I yelled back that I was, and she says, ‘Your mom just called. You have to go home right now. Right this minute.’”
“I was so bloody mad,” Fiona mutters.
“I walked home and right into the kitchen where Ma was, as if nothing at all had happened. I just said, ‘What’s up, Ma?’ And then she explained to me that Delaney’s mother had called her, and that’s when all hell broke loose.”
“Mrs. Evans was so cross. And she had every right to be, truth be told,” Fiona says, picking up the story. “Her poor baby girl was just enjoying her swing, not bothering another soul, and a carrot comes out of nowhere and pings her right on the head.”
We’re all laughing now, giggling with delight.
“And then her father came over to talk to me. He actually threatened to sue me,” Tom continues. “Of course, I knew that he couldn’t really sue me, but he was my neighbor, and I didn’t want things to be bad in the neighborhood. So, we sat down and had a talk. I suggested that I’d have Shawn apologize to Delaney, just as he should, and that Mr. Evans could have his fill of Guinness at the pub for the next year.”
“I take it he was okay with that arrangement?” I ask.
“He drank his weight in the Black Stuff every Saturday night for a bloody year,” Tom says, shaking his head. “It more than paid for a wee carrot to the head of his precious daughter.”
“If someone had done that to Maeve or Mary Margaret, you would have cleaned that father’s clock, and you know it, Tom O’Callaghan.”
“And that’s the truth of it,” Tom agrees with a nod. “It was good times, having babies around the house. But they grow up so bloody fast and leave the nest.”
“None of your chicks went far,” Shawn reminds him. “We’re all still on the island.”
“Your father is a sentimental man,” Fiona says. “And we should be getting to bed. It was a long flight, and I’m knackered. Have a good sleep, you two.”
Tom joins her and winks at both of us before he and his wife walk into the kitchen to put dirty dishes in the sink and then turn in for the evening.
“I like them,” I say quietly. “You and your siblings are wonderful because they are.”
“Agreed,” Shawn replies and kisses the back of my hand. “I’m glad you got to meet and spend a little time with them.”
“Me, too.”* * *It’s early morning when I wake up. The sun is just barely starting to cast a glow across the sky, but it hasn’t peeked out over the mountains yet.
Shawn is still snoring softly beside me, so I gingerly ease out of bed and pad into the bathroom, and then the closet where I tug on some yoga pants and an oversized sweatshirt.
I don’t want to run into either of Shawn’s parents wearing next to nothing ever again. I’ll never forget the embarrassment of that moment.
I pad down to the kitchen and am surprised to see Tom already there, seated at the island, drinking a cup of coffee.
“Good morning,” I say softly. “I’m surprised you’re up.”
“Jet lag is a bugger,” he says with a smile. “I’ve been up for a couple of hours. Fiona, God bless her, is still sleeping.”
“Shawn is, too.” I wince before pouring myself a cup of coffee. “I feel uncomfortable saying that to his dad.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re his father.”
“Shawn’s a grown man of nearly thirty years, lass. He can do as he pleases.”
“True.” I lean my hip against the counter and take a sip of my coffee. “I like your son.”
“I’m glad. I do, as well.”
“I’m not here for a long time.” I don’t know why I feel like I should admit that to Tom, but I suddenly do. “I’m supposed to go back to Minneapolis this week. We’re pretty much done with the project.”
Tom doesn’t say anything, just sits and listens.
I know who Shawn gets his listening skills from.
“I know it makes me sound horrible, but I’ve had a physical relationship with your son while I’ve been here.”
“Why is that a horrible thing, Lexi?”
I shrug a shoulder. “Because it’s not a long-term relationship. We established that in the beginning.”
“Well, if you’re both of the same mind, I don’t see what the problem is.”
I purse my lips, thinking it over. “I didn’t see a problem with it either, until I met you. Now, I suddenly feel guilty.”
“Because he has parents?”
I laugh. “It sounds ridiculous when you say it.”
“I assume you have a ma and da, as well.”
“I do. My mom is in Minnesota. I lost my father a few years ago.”
