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“We’re not going to ruin his life, Aela,” Brennan countered softly. “Sure, there will be things that will change, but he’s about to become a part of the tightest knit family on the East Coast. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?”
“Maybe.” I didn’t argue, because there was no point. Instead, I just said, “Throw that over to him,” as Conor stalked out of the bathroom like he was a hungry lion.
“Gimme, gimme, gimme,” he growled as he made grabby hands for the menu, and I almost laughed.
Somehow, I had two-fifths of not just the tightest knit family, but the hottest as well.
Aidan Sr. was evident in all their appearances, but their mother was too. Her bone structure combined with Aidan’s dark coloring made beautiful babies.
Any woman with these two in her room could let it go to her head, I thought with amusement.
And yes, I was capable of amusement, even though the chains were starting to coil around me.
My life was changing, Seamus’s was too, but I was adaptable. I’d had to learn to be.
I’d roll with the punches, metaphorically.
If Declan ever raised a hand to me, that was it. He’d be the one who’d be rolling—into an unmarked frickin’ grave. But I had to pray that the boy I’d known couldn’t have changed that much. He’d never have hit me. Of course, I’d never have believed he’d dump me the way he had either…
With the phone call from last night resonating in my mind, where he’d told me I’d never stopped being his woman, Conor barged into my thoughts and, like he owned the place, strolled over to the phone and picked it up.
As he placed his order, he looked at me, and I murmured, “Eggs Benedict. Plus get an order of toast and crispy bacon for Seamus.”
His eyes glinted with interest at the mention of my kid’s name, but he placed his own order. “They said ten minutes.”
“Money talks,” I commented wryly, as I walked over to the closet, grabbed the bag I’d stuffed in there yesterday, and started sorting through it for something to wear. “I’m going to take a shower.”
Neither of them argued, and I’d admit it was weird how unafraid I was around them.
Maybe I should be. Maybe they just weren’t giving off those kinds of vibes. Or maybe it was because it hadn’t been a week since I’d come under their spotlight and I’d already had to kill a man… That changed things.
Dramatically.
With my stuff in hand, I headed for the bathroom and showered and prepared myself for the day ahead. I knew they were here to deliver us safely back to Manhattan, and I’d admit I was grateful because the O’Donnellys always had a way of making you feel safe.
The ultimate of ironies, of course, because I was only in danger because of my ties to them.
I didn’t rush my shower, seeing no point in it. I enjoyed the luxuriously appointed bathroom, indulged in the expensive toiletries, and pampered myself a little. I felt better as I dried off and wrapped my hair in a small towel like a turban. I dressed quickly, then applied some moisturizer before I headed out into the bedroom once more.
There was a room service buffet stand there, and I saw that Conor had already grabbed his and was over by the dining area, chowing down his eggs and bacon like he hadn’t eaten in a month. Brennan’s and my dishes were still waiting, and so was Seamus’s.
It seemed counterintuitive, but I lifted off the cloches until I found the bacon, used the cover on the toast to keep it warm, then let the bacon scent drift through the room.
My kid had a Scooby Doo nose for bacon, and that was one way to get him up.
Brennan eyed the move with a raised brow, but he didn’t say a word. Just grabbed his breakfast and mine and moved over to Conor’s side.
The table had already been laid with cutlery, a jug of juice, a pot of coffee, and the associated tumblers and mugs, so I poured myself one of each and took a deep sip of OJ before I even thought about eating.
A minute later, the connecting doorknob rattled, and my boy appeared.
He looked a mess, but I couldn’t stop the pride that filled me at the sight of him.
His hair was all over the place, he had lines on his cheeks from where the pillow creased his skin, and his eyes were like slits as he peered into the brightness. I was surprised he hadn’t grabbed his shades like he usually did, but instead he stepped into the room, then stepped back—not to avoid his uncles who I doubted he’d even seen—but he returned a second later with a cap he pulled low over his eyes. He’d also grabbed a tee but stuck with his boxers and Rick and Morty sock-clad feet.
“Mom, where did I put my sunglasses?”
I snorted. “How would I know?”
