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My muse had come to a decision—the O’Donnelly sons were going to be my next magnum opus.
* * *
DECLAN
Seamus’s cheekswere still red an hour later as we sat down for dinner. Because Inessa was more his age than ours, I understood his fascination with her, and I especially understood the impromptu boner that had him scurrying out of the room like he’d shit his pants.
At first, I’d thought Ma had said something to him, so I’d rushed after him and grabbed him to make sure he was okay. His glittery eyes, the red cheeks, the way he held his jacket close to him?
It was amazing how much I’d forgotten about being young. And it was amazing how fucking ancient that made me feel.
His voice still squeaked every now and then, and since he’d come to New York, he’d had a few zits, a couple of pimples. Nothing terrible. His top lip was getting some fuzz, and I was inordinately pleased that, when his beard came through, I’d be around to show him how to shave it.
I didn’t think there’d be much I’d be able to teach him, because Aela had done a bang-up job, but the man stuff? That was the crapshedidn’t know.
And apparently I needed a reminder too, because until Shay went through the stuff, I couldn’t remember half of the crap that happened when you were a teenage boy.
Still, with his secret crush for his aunt under control—a thought that still made me want to laugh—I made sure that I grabbed a dish, held it for Aela as she served herself, then took what I needed too. I wanted the family to know she meant something to me.
She wasn’t a bitch.
She wasn’t here simply because she’d been the womb who dropped Seamus.
She was mine.
As I maneuvered my overwhelmed plate, chatter started around the table. As usual, I listened. Among so many voices, it was easier just to tune in, figure out what was what. There were so many big personalities around here that I preferred just to sit back and let them talk.
“You’ll never guess where Eoghan took me last night, Lena.”
Ma arched a brow. “Where?”
“The Bolshoi Ballet is in town,” she enthused, which had my ears pricking up with interest.
Fuck, I was really out of it if I didn’t know they were in the city.
“What did you see?” Aoife asked. “I’ve never seen a ballet, but I’d really love to go.”
“Swan Lake. It was incredible. I’ve been to a few but—”
Da, with his elbow on the table and his fork hanging from his hand, scowled at her then glowered at me like it was my fault I’d infected her with an appreciation for the ballet. “Looks like you’re not the only one who gets a kick out of watching a bunch of faggots, Declan. Why you’d want to watch them run around in fucking skirts—”
“Language,” Ma grumbled.
My mouth tightened because I knew what was coming, only, it didn’t.
“Is that a homosexual slur?”
I could feel the entire table grind to a halt at Seamus’s question. Nearly everyone stared at him, but I cast Aela a glance and saw she was smirking into her roast beef.
“Yeah, it’s a homosexual slur, kid,” she confirmed.
“You can’t say things like that,” Seamus piped up.
“Sure I can. A man can say whatever he wants when he’s at his own table,” Da rumbled, but I could sense he was only being patient because Seamus was who he was.
“You can’t. It’s insulting. Not only to anyone who’s gay, but also to Dad. I mean, he quite clearlyisn’tgay. And just because he likes art and things doesn’t mean you can talk about him like that.”
Well, if that didn’t break my fucking heart.
