Page 240 of Filthy Truth


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“Why? You like shopping. I don’t. Plus, she knows you. She doesn’t know me.”

“She’s your mother-in-law too,” Savannah argued. “How can she get to know you if you don’t spend time together? It’s not like we’re best buds.”

“Bullshit. You know you cream your panties every time Magdalena ‘wife of Irish Mobster Aidan O’Donnelly Sr.’ talks to you.”

“Firstly, ew. And secondly—”

“No secondly. You’ve been spending too much time with teenagers if you can say ‘ew’ without cringing.”

“Why do I like you again?”

“I’m not sure,” Star mused. “Either way, kitchens are your purview. Not mine.” She paused. “Bathrooms and living rooms too. If she needs a computer, then maybe I’ll help. But she has a son for that so go talk to Conor.”

“I don’t think you’re going to convince her of anything, Savannah,” I drawled, watching as Star arched a brow at me from the counter as I strolled into the kitchen after deciding it was time to break that conversation up before it devolved into an argument.

Aidan thought Savannah and Camden bickered but that was nothing on these two.

Star wiggled the coffee pot, prompting me to mouth, “Thanks.”

As she stretched to reach for one of the mugs in the cupboard so she could pour me some—revealing, in the process, a luscious sliver of CK panties that made me want to twang the waistband—she told Savannah, “Don’t you think we’re better off staying out of each other’s way?”

“That’s not how family works,” I answered before my sister-in-law could.

Her expression turned pained. “Is this part of that atonement thing?”

“If you want it to be, it is.” I smirked when she rolled her eyes, sensing that I was joking. “Teasing aside, you don’t have to like Ma. I don’t expect you to spend time with her. I only ask for your Sundays.”

“Such a sacrifice,” she retorted with a wink as I sidled up to her, my hand settling on the curve of her hip after I retrieved something from my pocket. There, I drew the wrapper along the tender flesh until she grinned and snagged the Baby Ruth from my grasp.

“You’re only arguing about this because if you do it, then you know I’ll expect you to talk to Mom,” Savannah grouched.

“Lorelei and I have nothing to say to each other.” She tore open the candy. “And it’s not just that.”

“Not just what?”

“I struggle with knowing what Magdalena and Aidan Sr. did, or didn’t do, to their sons.”

Her words came as no surprise to me. Some days, that was a struggle for me as well.

Savannah clearly understood her predicament because she didn’t immediately reply. Then, slowly, she verbalized, “Parents are humans. Humans make mistakes. I think if you spoke to Lena, she’d be the first to admit that she made mistakes. That there are things she wishes she’d done differently.”

“She does,” I confirmed, leaning beside Star. “I know there’s plenty she regrets.”

Star’s brow furrowed. “What do you want from me?” She tore off some of the Baby Ruth, chewing with consternation.

I shot her a smile. “Nothing.”

“To help out when I ask you to come along,” Savannah muttered, thinking the question was aimed at her. “Oh, that reminds me. She wanted you to fix something for her in the bathroom, Conor.”

“Since when am I the handyman?”

“Since Aidan got out of it by saying he had to meet with someone about a ball.”

“A ball?” Star repeated. “Like a ball with dancing or a soccer ball?”

“Soccer. Declan and he were arguing about players last night. He’s trying to get someone called Paco Perez to play for the Saturns. He’s with Paris or Madrid.” She hummed disinterestedly. “Maybe even Berlin.”

“Informative as always, Savannah,” Star drawled.

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