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“Yes?” It’s equally clear from the look on Saoirse’s face that she knows where this is going, but she lets Caterina continue.
“We need to talk about a place for Isabella here.” Caterina pushes forward before Saoirse can say anything, despite the look on her face. “Niall is a King now. You might have had an argument for excluding her before, based on her husband’s rank—a thin one, considering that Maggie and Sasha are here—but you don’t have that excuse any longer. Niall has a place at the table, and he’s going to want his wife given hers.”
“Maggie and Sasha are here because they either have useful connections or lived experience regarding what we’re trying to do here,” Saoirse says, a touch snappishly. “Isabella—”
“Also has that, or did you forget the part where she was shipped off to a man exclusively meant to break her in for her husband?” Caterina shakes her head. “I get the personal strife between the two of you, but we all have some issues that we have to get past.” She glances meaningfully at Ana before continuing. “If you continue to snub Isabella, Niall will see it as a direct insult. He’ll go to your husband and to Liam, and it will ripple out into the Kings. You know they need peace right now, not more conflict—and Viktor and Luca would tell you the same.” She frowns. “Your job as Connor’s wife is to help facilitate peace. This foundation is as much a means of being a common ground and purpose for all of us as it is for doing good. Isabella is a part of this now, and she needs to be given her place.”
Saoirse frowns. “I’ll discuss it with Connor,” she says irritably. “I’m not saying you’re wrong. But I’m not going to make that decision today.”
It’s clear Caterina has more thoughts about it, but she lets it go for now—much to the relief of the rest of us, who can all feel the rising tension. We all know she’s right, though.
It’s just a matter of Saoirse coming around to understand it, too.
Once the meeting is over, we all head back to the estate—sans Maggie, who promises to be there at eight for dinner and the party to follow—and we all end up in the living room again, cooing over Brigit and Sean. Brigit is clearly a handful—both in activity and volume—and it’s no wonder Ana looks as tired as she does. Sean, on the other hand, is a mostly quiet baby, with a shock of ginger hair that looks brighter than either Saoirse’s coppery red or Connor’s more auburn hair. He has his mother’s green eyes, and Saoirse swears he already has freckles, although she’s absolutely making that up.
It’s sweet, though, to see her more tender, maternal side. She’s different with Sean, softer. She and Ana seem to have bonded at least over their babies, the space between them melting away as they sit side by side on the sofa with their little ones. Caterina is over the moon to finally meet Sean, and Sofia dotes on Brigit.
Even if Caterina hadn’t said something about Brigit’s father to Saoirse, everyone would have known;I can’t help but think as I look at the adorable, tiny baby currently gumming her way through Sofia’s fingers. Her blue eyes are her mother’s, but the dark hair on her head couldn’t have come from either the corn-silk blonde Ana, or the fiery red Liam. There’s no question that she’s someone else’s, and though I know very little of that story, even from Caterina.
But it’s also just as clear that Ana doesn’t care. She looks at her baby with all the love and adoration a child could hope for, and I know from what Caterina has said that Liam feels the same. He might not be Brigit’s biological father, but he’s her father in all the ways that matter.
They’re all so lucky to have parents who cherish them so much.All of them will face difficulties later in life, being the children of mob families, born to fathers who are, at their core, criminals. But they are, at the very least, loved. And their mothers especially, having all known what it means to be at the whims of men, won’t stand for seeing them used as pawns—especially the daughters.
Connor and Liam both come home briefly to see their wives and say hello to Caterina and Sofia, before going back out to whatever they’re getting up to with the guys tonight. Meanwhile, as we relax in the living room, chatting and playing with the babies, the house is a whirlwind of getting ready for the party tonight.
Saoirse has never been someone to do anything halfway. There’s catering from one of her favorite sushi places in the city, as well as a charcuterie spread and plenty of alcohol. Around eight, just as promised, Maggie shows up in time to kiss the babies goodnight before the nannies sweep them upstairs, and the house is ours for the night, with no distractions.
“I vote we get Sasha drunk tonight,” Maggie says with a grin, brandishing the bottle of tequila she brought with her. “Didn’t you just turn twenty-one?”
“Twenty,” I tell her with a small grin, laughing along with the other women, who find Maggie’s comment hilarious.
“Same thing.” Maggie shoves the bottle at me. “I had thehardestweek at work, so I’m ready to let loose.” She heads for the food, putting a few pieces of fish on a plate as she glances toward the kitchen. “Who’s good at making margaritas?”
Sofia grins. “I think I probably haven’t lost my touch, although Ana—”
“I’m better at cocktails.” Ana shrugs, perched on the edge of the sofa. “Sofia, go blend us up something fruity.”
It takes a moment for the women to find what’s necessary to make drinks—they hardly ever see the insides of their kitchens—but soon enough, there are blenders and alcohol, mixers and fruit garnishes spread across the countertops as we make our way into the McGregor kitchen. It’s big enough to be an efficiency apartment all on its own, decorated in green, gold, and quartz. Those of us who aren’t on margarita-making duty lean against the counters, waiting to be passed our drinks.
The first batch turns out stronger than anything I’ve ever tasted in my life. “You’re not supposed to use the whole bottle all atonce!” Maggie squawks at Sofia, laughing as she takes a sip of her watermelon margarita and coughs. “It’s not bad, though. Hard to fuck up top-shelf tequila.”
We finish those in record time, as well as a second round. By the time we’re on the third batch, we’re all warmly buzzed and laughing, the grudges between any of the women mostly forgotten in the camaraderie of drinking and teasing each other. Almost all of them were friends at one point or another, their conflicts circumstantial, and it’s easier to put those aside for a while in the warm glow of tequila and sugar.
“What’s it like post-baby, with your husbands?” Saoirse asks, flopping back onto the sofa in the most inelegant way I’ve ever seen. “I haven’t been cleared yet, and Connor doesn’t want me to touch him at all—he says it’s ‘not fair when he can’t reciprocate.’ But I’mdying. I feel like we hardly got any time to enjoy actuallywantingto be married to each other before all the pregnancy symptoms started.” She lets out a sigh as she takes another deep drink of her margarita. “I even tried sneaking in the shower with him the other day when I caught him—taking care of things, if you know what I mean. And he kicked me out! He said it wasn’t a big deal, that I needed more time.”
“Viktor can’t keep his hands off of me.” Caterina snorts, refilling her glass from the pitcher Sofia perched on the coffee table. “We don’t reallyhaveto sneak, it’s not like our house isn’t big enough to just go up to the bedroom without the kids hearing or coming in, but I think he gets off on it.” She giggles. “Like heenjoyssneaking me into his office like we’re gonna get caught or something.”
“Luca is all over me, too.” Sofia shakes her head. “I love it—but he wants another babysobad already. We’re taking precautions, butallhis dirty talk is about knocking me up again.”
“Liam’s the opposite.” Ana blushes a little, taking a gingerly sip of her margarita. “He’s terrified for me to get pregnant again, after how difficult Brigit’s birth was. He doesn’t—you know—” she looks around as if someone other than the women already talking about their sex lives might hear. “He won’tfinishin me. He’s so worried that even if we use protection, I’ll get pregnant again too soon. And he’s so gentle. It’s still hot, but I can’t wait for him to get a little rougher again, you know?”
“See, this is why I’m in no hurry to have kids,” Maggie says, shaking her head as she tops off her drink. “For like—at least six months, your sex life is all over the place. And then there’s all the post-baby stuff. No thanks. I’ll stick with having fun for now.”
“You don’t even have a serious boyfriend!” Saoirse jibes, nudging Maggie with her foot. “Like you need to worry about having kids right now.”
“I mean, accidents happen!” Maggie laughs, taking a deep gulp of her drink. “I’m just trying to make sure theydon’t, while still taking the tour of Boston, if you know what I mean.”
“You should come to New York,” Sofia says, giggling. “There aresomany men who wouldloveyou.”
