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Crap, if that wasn’t the most perfect segue ever into what I’d been talking to Declan about the other night.
But was it wise?
“There was never any talk of Aidan cheating,” I started weaving.
“When Finn and I first got engaged, she told me to expect men to cheat, but when Inessa came to Sunday dinner, she said that to tie a man to us, we had to get them drunk on us.”
“That’s a contradiction, isn’t it?” I asked.
“I thought so too,” Inessa grumbled, as she played with a little soft toy Jacob had in his carrier.
A server came and handed us a menu, and after we’d made our selections and had tea dropped off for the three of us, I had to admit, I was chomping at the bit to ask what I probably shouldn’t.
Some things were family secrets for a reason, after all.
But I never had been able to leave things well alone.
“It’s funny how close Finn is to the family,” I started, curious if they’d get my drift. I couldn’t be the only one who’d seen the similarities between him and the rest of the brothers, could I? And after Dec’s response, I knew it was going to be swept under the rug. Which I was okay with. I just wanted to know the truth.
My reason wasn’t very palatable either.
I knew, for the rest of my life, that Aidan Sr., no matter what I did, no matter how many portraits I gave to Lena, was going to throw my past in my face.
If he’d cheated, I wanted ammunition too.
I never said I was a nice person…
“The boys grew up together,” Aoife replied, but her tone was a little more wooden than before.
I shrugged. “I mean, I know. I was there.” I shot her a smile. “I just never noticed the likeness before.”
Inessa gave me a look before immediately taking a sip of tea. “I don’t know what you mean. Likeness?”
“You know... how he looks like Aidan Sr.?”
“It’s because they’re all Black Irish,” Inessa murmured. Then, she sighed. “Thank God for the Black Irish.” She replaced her cup onto the saucer, then gently squished Jacob’s cheek. “This one is going to be a heartbreaker, just like his daddy.”
“And his uncles,” I interjected dryly, not willing to let this drop.
I wasn’t sure why they’d invited me here, but I’d figured it was to pump me for information. I highly doubted they wanted to be friends with me. I’d long since learned that I wasn’t a likable person because the day Deirdre had died, and I’d headed off into the great unknown, I’d made a decision.
I wouldn’t kiss ass ever again.
And being friends with Deirdre had made me stink of shit because I was that far up her butt.
As far as I’d ever been able to see, that was how friendship worked.
Aoife squirmed on her seat at my statement, but she tilted her head to the side and noted, “You’re grumpier than I’d imagined an artist would be.”
I had to laugh at that. “I’m not grumpy.”
“No?” Aoife arched a brow. “Just rude then?”
I grinned at her. “Touché.”
Her eyes twinkled a little. “What do you want me to say, Aela?”
“That Finn is Aidan Sr.’s by-blow?”
