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“Holy crap.” Emilia peered closer. “Cart…ier. That’s something fancy—I’ve heard of that. It’s gorgeous!”
She was too fucking cute sometimes. Every now and then, she’d eye the label of an upscale brand and go, “They sure didn’t have that at the thrift store where I grew up!”
“Quite the romantic gift, one might say.” Now she was just digging.
I raised an eyebrow. “Damn. Maybe I shouldn’t have bought your Christmas gift at Dior, then. I don’t want you to think I’m comin’ on to you.”
She smashed her lips together and scowled.
Too easy.
This was the life.
Considering we were approximately twenty friends and family in Finn and Emilia’s house, we’d had dinner at the pub next door. And now, when everyone was full and merry, their living room was the ultimate spot to people watch and catch up.
It felt wonderful to see Shan and Finn reconnecting. God knew they needed it. My mate had missed his old man. They stood by the baby grand in a corner, drank whiskey, and talked as if nobody else existed in the world.
Shan was showing him pictures, presumably from our vacation.
A handful had excused themselves for a holiday nap. A few dryshites had asked where the closest gym was. Emilia, Autumn, and Nessa were baking in the kitchen.
Alec slumped down next to me on the couch, smelling like there was something stronger than Coke in his glass.
He hadn’t been subtle at Finn and Emilia’s wedding either.
“Hey, mate. It’s great to see ye again.”
“You too, buddy.” I smirked and took a swig of my rum. “How’s that soda?”
“Delicious.” He licked his lips and chugged from the glass.
I shook my head in amusement.
Liam, Eric, and Colm stood over by the fire, and they were watching Alec too. Well… When Liam wasn’t checking out my sister’s ass. She was on kiddie patrol, following two rambunctious rugrats around on the floor. Just ten minutes ago, Ryan had been ready to climb the Christmas tree.
I nudged Alec and lowered my voice. “You interested in making a hundred bucks?”
He couldn’t be more interested, and it had little to do with the money. The young punk was eager to grow up and constantly asked Finn to help out—as long as it had to do with the Sons.
“Name it,” he said quickly. “Want me to ice someone?”
I barked out a loud laugh that earned me way too much attention.
God—no, I didn’t want him to ice someone. I just wanted a laxative to end up in Liam’s eggnog at some point.
Call it a Christmas treat to myself.
Shan smiled curiously at me.
I smiled back and tipped my glass at him.
Sláinte, mo ghrá.
Epilogue 2
The following year
“Most people just look at listings on Zillow,” I said nervously.
It felt right but so wrong. No, not wrong, just…I was petrified something would go wrong.
I fidgeted with the pamphlet, the pictures almost jumping out at me. A small penthouse, Shan had called it. A two-bedroom with a rooftop patio. He’d neglected to mention the dining room and home study. Jesus Christ, a Rittenhouse Square address.
“My Realtor sent it to me.” Shan leaned back against the desk while I fought the urge to pace like I was some…Finnegan O’Shea. Who could be back any moment, for the record. Was this the best time to spring this on me, when we were in Finn’s home office?
“How long have you had a Realtor?” I asked.
I was asking the wrong questions.
More inappropriate would be, holy fucking shit, you wanna move in with me?
Even though we’d technically been living together for nearly two years. Unless you asked Finn and anybody we knew; then the answer was that Shannon had moved back downstairs to his own condo several months ago.
“Since this spring,” he responded. “April, I think. Don’t you like it?”
Like? Like the penthouse? It was stunning. I liked big windows and I could not lie.
“It’s sudden, is all,” I said dumbly. Untruthfully. Fuck. I had to be honest. I released a breath and stepped between his legs. “You’ve just come out of a major depressive episode, hon. You’re taking on more work too.”
It was why we were here at Finn’s house today. We were itching to hit an auto show next season, and the Bisset brothers had already reached out. We had a full crew ready for some action. And Shan wanted in. He wanted to get his hands dirty after six months of being a clean and polished adviser who joined me and Finn for the weekly sit-downs.
“I know what I want.” Shan cupped my cheek and made me look him in the eye. “Can you say the same?”
This wasn’t about me. I wanted everything.
“I’m scared it’s going to be too overwhelming for you,” I admitted.
He smiled sympathetically, a little ruefully, and took the pamphlet from me. “I can’t let that hold me back anymore. It pains me when we come here for dinner and I can’t even take your hand or kiss you.” He was preaching to the choir. It’d been wearing on me too, but the alternative was worse. What if he thought the next step forward was too much and we lost it all? “I want to tell Finn,” he murmured. “I want the inner circle to know, and I want to build a proper home with you.”
