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“Very hard, I imagine.” I shrugged. “Everything gets easier with practice though, doesn’t it?”
Her eyes caught mine, and this time we both grinned at each other. “I might try that tonight. I miss him.”
“You mean you’re horny.”
More pink appeared in her cheeks. “Maybe.”
“Definitely.” I laughed. “I am too, and I’ve been shot. You’re only pregnant. Doesn’t that mean your hormones are all over the place?”
“They were at first,” she said with a shrug. “I-I didn’t want him at all. But now?” When she blew out a breath, it made her bangs flutter a few centimeters off her forehead.
Nodding my understanding, I murmured, “Totally get where you’re coming from.”
“For God’s sake, do I need to peel the damn things myself?” Lena spluttered. “Doreen, Linda, Jane, Maisy, and Laura finished ages ago. What on earth’s taking so long?”
I scowled at her. “We have several pounds of vegetables to peel. They didn’t have much to do.”
Lena doled out her chores like Father Doyle would penance. Except I wasn’t being punished—peeling was all I could really do. I wasn’t able to stand for long periods of time still, not without feeling shaky. Being perpetually weak was wearing on my nerves. I was used to being strong, not so goddamn fragile.
Lena glowered at me but went back to stirring a shit ton of onions in a bucket load of butter. Colcannon was on the agenda today, mashed potatoes mixed with sautéed onions, cabbage, and bacon, and that was enough to put me in a shiny mood.
Mary-Ellen whispered, “You’re the only one who can talk back to her.”
I shrugged. “She’s like my mother-in-law.”
“All the more reason not to.” Mary-Ellen shuddered. “Aren’t you scared of her?”
“Nope.” Before, maybe, but now?
Being shot changed things.
I’d taken a bullet because of the Five Points. Someone had infiltrated my home, and they hadn’t done it to come and tuck me in and give me a box of chocolates. Not once had I complained about any of that. I wasn’t scared of Lena. I was scared of our enemies. Actually being hurt by one of them put shit into perspective.
“Why not?”
“She won’t make you bleed. Will just lash you with that tongue. I can survive that.” My mom had a barbed tongue too. Not purposely cruel, but just one of those mothers who knew what was what and wouldn’t let you get away with shit.
Lena reminded me of her in some ways. It was probably why I liked her. Even if she was a pain in the ass that managed her kitchen like it was a Nazi stronghold.
“Didn’t you see Louisa being shot down by Lena?” As soon as she asked the question, Mary-Ellen smacked her hand to her mouth. “God, Aoife, I’m so sorry.”
I stared at her, bewildered. “For what? She didn’t bitch at me—”
“Shot down,” Mary-Ellen repeated, then wafted the potato peeler at me. “I’m so sorry.”
Snorting, I told her, “Takes more than that to offend me.” I wasn’t putting a brave face, I was just… I guess my perspective was different than before.
Almost dying did that to a person.
You could be sensitive about it, or you could just get the fuck on with it. I was of the latter school of thought. Another reason I think Lena liked me. Her disrespect was evident for weak women.
Of course, I kept my weak moments to myself. When I was lonely and wondering what the hell I’d done by tying myself to a man whose business necessitated a hotel as a safe house, I’d cry myself to sleep. But mostly, it was out of self-pity and Lena wasn’t the only one who abhorred that.
I had plenty to count my blessings over, and I needed to focus on that.
“Why did she shoot Louisa down?” I inquired, curious.
“She was crying. Said she missed Conrad.”
