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“You’ll need at least three or four weeks, Finn,” Lena informed me.
I frowned. “What? I’m not waiting that long.”
Aoife squeaked. “A month isn’t a long time.”
“It is for me.” Aidan would be pissed if I moved her into my penthouse without us being wed, and I wanted her in my goddamn bed every night. I shot him a look. “After what we talked about earlier, don’t you think it’s wise we get married as soon as possible?”
“And they say romance is dead,” Lena muttered, rolling her eyes and making Aoife laugh.
Aidan tapped his chin. “It’s the banns, son. It takes three weeks for them to be called out.”
“They’re not a requirement now, Dad,” Conor informed him.
“Maybe not to regular people, but since when were we regular?” Aidan drummed his fingers against the table. “You’re right though, son,” he aimed at me, confirming with his concession what I already knew—that the threat against us was very real. “Father Doyle won’t be happy about it, but I think the roof has a leak that needs fixing.” He shot Eoghan a look. “Arrange for that, would you, Eoghan?”
His youngest son dipped his head at the request, and Aoife gasped at him as she obviously figured out that the roof wouldn’t have a leak until Eoghan arranged for one to exist.
Aidan didn’t seem to hear it, thank God, and mumbled, “I’m not happy about it. You two living in sin, but I’ll accept it considering the circumstances.” He rubbed his chin. “When can you move her in?”
I shrugged. “Tonight.”
“Tonight?” Aoife cried. “I need more time than that! I have all my things to pack up.”
Lena snorted. “You’re wealthy now, Aoife. You pay other people to pack your things for you.”
“I-I . . .” Her words drifted off, and I turned to look at her, an apology in my eyes if not falling from my lips. She saw it, though, saw my restraint, and while her mouth worked noiselessly with how her life was being organized around her, she seemed to take my lead.
Thank God for smart women.
She rested her hand atop mine, and I moved it, so we could clasp fingers. It was probably the first time we’d done that outside of the bedroom, and it felt good. Very good.
Gently squeezing mine, I felt her accept my apology.
One of the reasons I hadn’t been mad she’d kept me waiting for an answer to my proposal was that I knew she had to process exactly who I was and what I did.
Not that it would have stopped me.
She’d be my wife before the year was over, and that was the truth. But I hadn’t wanted her to feel forced. She had to accept the man I was, the men I knew, and if not embrace it, at least accept it.
Any other woman might not have. But I knew Aoife had been raised to fear and respect the Five Points. Anyone outside our territory, which extended quite far—through Hell’s Kitchen and onto its neighboring areas—wouldn’t understand. But Aoife had accepted the Points a long time ago. Whether she realized it or not.
To her, the violence that was inherent in this world was something she was accustomed to because she’d been raised with warnings about our Family.
Some little farm girl from Idaho wouldn’t get it. But someone born and bred here in one of our neighborhoods? She knew to fear where she trod.
The rest of the meal wasn’t as carefree as before, but there were laughs to be had and we all groaned when Lena brought out her famous crumble. She didn’t make it every week, it depended on how busy she was on the Saturday before, but when it made an appearance, the huge casserole dish always emptied even if we were stuffed full.
The twelve-seater table was covered with white linen, silver cutlery, china dishes that were patterned with ancient detailing—Aidan had bought Lena the china service as an anniversary present from Sothebys two years ago—as well as the detritus from a good meal.
I’d brought Aoife to meet my family, and though we hadn’t passed unscathed, in the grand scheme of things, we’d sailed through troubled waters quite easily together.
It was, I thought, a portent of things to come. No matter what happened, from this moment on, Aoife and I would work through it together.
I’d have no distance between us. No space.
I needed her. Like my lungs needed air, I needed her, and I knew, whether she wanted to admit it to herself or not, she felt the exact same way.
***
