“I’ll make arrangements for you to have privacy at his graveside.”
“Thank you.” She snickers. “I think I spent a lot of time unlearning what he said. While also getting to enjoy being a part of a more functional family.”
“I think the O’Donnellys would classify themselves as anything but.”
“Probably. They have one another. Through thick and thin. That’s a gift.”
“You have your sisters.”
“Yes, but like I said, I had to unlearn that we weren’t competing. It still crops up. It did today. When I was thinking about the Veronians and why I put myself through it all.”
“To impress the O’Donnellys?”
“It’s more complicated than that, but at its heart, yes.”
“You view them in a paternal light.”
“I do.” She turns her face into my chest. “I wanted to impress them. I wanted to give them something my sisters couldn’t,wouldn’t.”
And put herself in more danger than any of them would like…
“But it wasn’t enough to just give them more than Inessa or Camille could. I had to be better. The best. T-To thank them for bringing me into their circle. For letting me in.”
“You are enough as you are, Victoria. You don’t need to jump through hoops to be accepted. They accepted you years ago and freely.”
“Because of their wives.”
“Isn’t that how families work? Ties that bind us together, makingmore connections, tighter knots. Would you have preferred to be dumped in an orphanage?”
“No.”
“I’m sure they’re better here than in Moscow.”
“Shut up,” she grouches, but she nuzzles her nose into my chest.
“Now you want to fix things for this Lex girl.”
“Her sister.” She clears her throat. “I’m still shocked you let me go through with it.”
“In all honesty, so am I.”
She snorts, at first.
But the snort morphs into a peal of laughter that has my lips curving as she laughs herself hoarse.
When she collapses against me, her torso heaves with the remnants of her humor. Scurrying free from my now-ruined sweater, she plops her tousled head in my lap as I ask, “Bed?”
“You’ll sleep here then,” is her coy retort. “I half-expected you to drag me to the farmhouse.”
“I still can?—”
“No!” Looping both arms around my waist this time, she buries her face in my abdomen. “Stay here. It’s full of my shit.” I can’t disagree when I look at the state of her floor. “It’s home.”
The kiss she presses to my stomach has me gritting my teeth. I feel the soft heat of her through my sweater and shirt and decide I’m eligible for sainthood.
“Stay.”
Another kiss.
