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“When did I ever say that I’d try to be helpful?” was her smartass reply.
Finn rolled his eyes.
“Are you looking forward to tomorrow, Savannah?” Camille asked.
“I am. I know there’ll be an argument, but I haven’t eaten with the folks for a while.” Savvie tossed a glower at Star who was keeping quiet. “Star’s promised that she won’t cause trouble.”
“It’s Conor who’ll cause trouble. Drooling into his food instead of talking like a regular human being,” Brennan mocked. “Still can’t get over that crush on noxxious, can you, Kid?”
I flipped him the bird. “It’ll be fine.”
“You’re meeting your idol as a son-in-law this time,” Eoghan mused, but he was hiding a grin. Jackass. “That’s a lot of pressure.”
“Never meet your heroes,” Declan agreed.
“Just try not to show me up,” Aidan retorted.
I huffed. “Thanks for the vote of confidence!”
“I know how you got the last time you met Dagger. I wasn’t sure if you were going to cry, collapse, or come in your pants!”
“Aidan!” Aoife hissed. “The kids will hear!”
He shrugged unapologetically.
“You’re going to miss dinner with Lena?” Inessa inquired, obviously trying to change the subject to something more manageable. “All of you? I’m surprised she didn’t invite Lorelei and Dagger over so that she wouldn’t have to do without her precious boys for a day.”
“She offered,” Aidan said dismissively. “I told her what I keep on telling her—our wives also have families.”
Because I was sitting so close to Star, I noticed the faintest tension emanating from her limbs. She kept it hidden, though, not just throughout the rest of the meal but all the way home too.
Only after we tucked Katina in bed did I confront her about it.
“We don’t have to go tomorrow if you don’t want to. We both know how you love Ma’s company,” I drawled.
Though she smirked, she didn’t look up from the computer where I knew she was multitasking between coordinating an event that was being held at the Four Seasons for the ATRF—the Anti-Trafficking Relief Fund—speaking with Goldstein regarding a Sparrow who’d only ever spoken to his compatriots in a code she’d broken this weekend, and slowly gaslighting Temper Black into believing that the Brothers were trying to have her eradicated.
All in all, it was a slow week for my fiancée.
“Your ma’s sole redeeming quality is her ability in the kitchen.”
I snorted. “Not the love she has for her family?”
“Nope,” she said, popping the P. “Just what she can do with some beef and potatoes.”
“We both know you’re dreading seeing Lorelei tomorrow.”
She sniffed. “I dread the upcoming apocalypse from over-dependence on fossil fuels, Conor O’Donnelly. I do not dread seeing the woman who helped raise me.”
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much.”
“You would.” She glanced at me. “You working on your spreadsheets?”
“You make it sound like a seventh-grade project,” I grumbled with a pout.
She chuckled. “Trying to predict the future is definitely something you think you can do at that age.”
“I’m not trying to predict the future. Patterns are everywhere. Particularly in Italy where match-fixing is done as a fine art.”
