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“You’ll adjust soon.” He looks at me, and I can see a hint of something unsettled in his gaze, too. We’ve come to know each other’s moods more quickly than I would have expected. However, I think some of Theo’s insight comes from years of experience with so many different people. For me, it’s simply being on a heightened guard, considering my circumstances. “The jet lag can be a lot, at first.” He smiles, glancing at the menu. “Did you enjoy your day of shopping?”
I nod, doing my best to push the memory of Adrik and the alleyway out of my head. The more uneasy I am, the more Theo is going to narrow in on what the cause is. It’s the downside, I’m learning, to having a husband who cares about whether I’m actually happy or not, rather than being alright with my merely being content and quiet. He wants to find the source of my unhappiness and fix it if he can, but in this situation, there’s nothing he can do.
And if he knows—
Cold fear rushes through me again, and I have to tamp it down quickly, before it shows on my face. “I did,” I manage, focusing on the drink list. “There’s a little coffee shop and bookstore I really loved. The Bookish Beanery, I think it was called?” I glance up at him. “It was so cozy. I could have spent all day there.”
“You’ll have to show it to me.” Theo smiles. “I can’t say I’ve been there, although there’s a couple of other bookstores in the city I’ve frequented.”
The server, a short man with a mustache and a receding hairline, approaches our table, and Theo gives him that same easy smile. “We’ll have the garlic prawns to start,” he says, glancing at me. “Is there anything else you want to start off with, Marika?”
I shake my head, still trying to settle on a drink. “I—um…a hard cider on draft?” I ask, seeing one listed. “That sounds good.”
“I’ll bring that right away.” The man smiles at us both, turning away to leave, and I sit back in the booth, looking at a menu for something else to keep my focus.
“Any other interesting purchases?” Theo asks. With anyone else, I would have thought he was grilling me about how much money I spent, but it feels as if he’s genuinely interested as to what I might have gotten.
“A pair of rainboots,” I tell him, laughing. “Since it’s apparently going to pour or snow the entire time we’re here. And a couple of cardigans.”
“You could have spent as much as you liked,” Theo says, taking a sip of his beer. “I won’t be poring over the statements, tallying up what you spend. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“I know,” I say softly. “But I didn’t want to take advantage.”
Something crosses his face then, an emotion that I can’t quite pinpoint. He smiles at me, soft and genuine, and glances at the menu. “Do you need help deciding what’s good?” he asks, winking at me. “I can’t imagine pub food is something you’ve eaten often.”
“I’m notthatspoiled,” I start to protest, but then I laugh, realizing that he is, in fact, right. “But no, I can’t say I’ve ever eaten at anything that could be called a pub.”
“Oh, I wasn’t calling you spoiled, lass.” Theo looks at me, that same soft expression still on his face. “I just wanted you to see—” he hesitates, pushing the menu aside slightly as he leans forward, reaching for one of my hands. “One of the reasons I like being here is that it feels—far away from who I have to be in Chicago. There, I’m a powerful and wealthy man, and here I am too, of course, but it’s less well known. The Dublin Kings and those who sit at their table don’t make themselves known the way the organizations in the States do. It’s a thing that’s known to those who matter, and kept quiet from those who don’t. Does that make sense?”
“I think so,” I say quietly, and Theo nods.
“It’s not power for power’s sake, aye? Or wealth that needs to be shown off. In Chicago, I couldn’t go to a place like this without it seeming odd. There’s a certain amount of expectation to keep up a way of living that fits with the sort of man I’m made out to be. But here—I can be myself. When I’m not in a meeting, I’m Theo McNeil, and that’s it. Aye?”
I swallow hard, nodding. It makes me wonder, hearing him, if this is the reason why my brother and everyone else seem to have him so wrong. If those appearances that he says he needs to keep up in Chicago is why I seem to be the only one who has seen this side of him.
“I’ve been thinking about how things could be, if we spent more time here.” He taps his fingers against the wood of the table, as the server drops off a plate of prawns in garlic butter and the hard cider for me. “Fewer expectations. A more normal life, for both of us.” He raises an eyebrow at me. “There was a time when I enjoyed having the appearance of so much power and wealth. I liked the fear, the respect, the luxuries, and the women that came with it. But now—I find that with age, it doesn’t mean so much to me. And I find that with you at my side, I don’t need so much, either.” His fingers trace over the back of my hand, and I feel that swell of guilt again.
“I still need an heir, Marika,” he says quietly. “For the Kings in Chicago to be alright with me taking a step back, with being more hands-off,especiallyif I intend to give Finn a greater role in standing in for me, they will need assurances that there will be someone to follow me.”
“You think they’ll let Finn stand in for you?” I ask the question without thinking, realizing a moment later that I don’t know if he wants his wife’s opinion on matters of business. But Theo just shrugs, leaning back with his fingers still brushing against my hand, as if it’s normal to him that I would ask something like that.
“In the past, maybe not. But there’s a precedent set now, from Boston, of men without the bloodline of the table having a seat there. The McGregor brothers are doing things differently. And while I might not want to take it to the same lengths they are, there’s something to be said for loosening the traditions a little.” He pauses for a moment, reaching for his beer. “I don’t think I’d go so far as to elevate Finn to the table—I don’t think he’d want it. But he’s more than capable of being my voice while I take a little more time away.”
“Why are you telling me all of this?” I ask softly. “You don’t have to. I don’t think most men in your position do—”
“That’s the point, Marika.” Theo takes a sip of his beer, looking at me pensively. “I know you have some hesitation about children. I can see that you do—and if you don’t want to tell me why, that’s your prerogative, although I wish you could be honest with me. But I know that this is the beginning of our marriage, too. I simply—”
He lets out a breath, as if he’s trying to think of how to explain what it is that he wants to say. “I want you to know that I’m hoping that this will be a new part of my life. A time to change my priorities. And if you fear that I won’t be an active part of this family, that I will be the way you’re perhaps accustomed to men behaving when it comes to their wives or their children or have been told to expect—if that’s what is making you feel hesitant about the prospect of children—”
My heart stutters in my chest, and I wish I could disappear. I wish I could go back to the beginning of all of this and tell Nikolai that I can’t do it, that I can’t marry Theo—not because I want to wish away the time we’ve spent together, but because I’m finding that I don’t want to hurt him, and at the same time that there’s no way around it.
“It’s just nerves,” I tell him as sincerely as I can manage, all the while hating myself for the lie. “All of this—it’s a lot to adjust to. That’s all.”
Theo looks at me for a long moment, and then he nods. “I wish I could give you more time,” he says quietly, his fingers running along the back of my hand again. “But I will be there for you in whatever ways I can be.”
The server comes back to take our orders—Theo gets maple salmon, and I order the shepherd’s pie—and another round of drinks. I sit there, picking at the appetizer and wondering how I’m going to get through this. I feel as if I’m being torn in two entirely different directions, between knowing I need to put a guard up between myself and Theo to keep from making this worse, and at the same time wanting to enjoy what I know could be one of the best nights I’ve had in a long time—if not ever.
Around the time our food comes, the sound of music starts to waft through the bar, and Theo grins at me. “They do live music fairly often,” he says, and gestures to a few couples starting to get up from their tables. “There’s a dance floor over there, too.”
