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Roisin doesn’t miss a beat, turning the tables with a hint of teasing in her voice. “I could say the same for you. Is that why you asked me out?”
I offer her a genuine smile. “Honestly? You’re the only person I can stand to be around right now.”
The maitred’ returns with our appetizers, giving Roisin a second to compose herself.
“How was the rest of the meeting?” She turns our focus away from herself.
I grimace as I relay the details. “Funnily enough, there wasn’t much more to say. They’re going ahead with the ambush of the shipment and doubling down on efforts to identify Jack Duffy’s allies.”
Roisin’s incredulous expression mirrors my own. “I just don’t get it. Is his pride really that huge?”
I give her a pointed look.
“Fair enough,” she concedes. “You would have thought he’d be over it by now.”
“Connor is… complicated. He was all alone for almost five years.” I look at the twisted expression on her face and backtrack. “I’m not saying he didn’t deserve it. It’s just. Well, you had your sister, and your father had his addiction. I just don’t think he’s ever had the opportunity to be proud of anything before now.”
“He runs an illegal mob!” she responds in disbelief. “That’s not exactly something to write home about.”
“Roisin... he’s proud of you. And your sister,” I reason softly. “To him, you’re the most important people in the world. God knows I’ve heard enough stories from him… He’ll stop at nothing to get you both back.”
Her brow furrows. “You’re defending him?”
“Maybe a little. He’s gone through hell trying to pick himself back up off the ground.” I shake my head. “Mostly I’m just trying to understand him,” I clarify. “So should you if we’re ever going to be able to convince him to take out Padraic.”
“I just wish I could just march into Padraic’s house and take him by the neck, you know?” Roisin’s frustration is palpable.
A wry grin tugs at the corners of my lips. “Now that, that I would pay to see.”
“You think I couldn’t do it?”
I meet her gaze with unwavering confidence. “No, I know you could; that’s what would make such a good show.”
The maitre d’ returns to clear our plates and present our entrees, detailing the ingredients in a soft, professional tone. But I can’t take my eyes off Roisin the entire time. The way she looks in this light is just unfairly alluring. The candlelight turns her into a precious sculpture, copper and emerald and gold, and the soft curve of her lips tugs at my vision. It’s like she’s hypnotizing me somehow.
The gift in my pocket feels like it’s burning a hole in my pants.
“So,” Roisin begins once we’ve been left alone once more. “What are you most proud of, Arnie?”
“That’s a very good question,” I admit, a smile playing at the corners of my lips.
When I don’t immediately respond, the question lingers in the air, a gentle probe into the depths of my own pride and accomplishments. I take a sip of champagne, using the moment to gather my thoughts.
She arches an eyebrow, her tone playful. “Not too date-y?”
“This is a date?” I feign surprise.
“Is it not?” she counters stubbornly, daring me to deny it.
Instead, I return to her original question. “I suppose... My track record? As morbid as that sounds.”
“That’s very morbid, actually.” Despite her words, I feel a small relief when Roisin doesn’t shy away from the truth.
“It’s just something I’m good at, I guess. I’m proud of the fact I was able to make something of myself outside my uncle’s shadow. However brief.”
“Would you... Will you do it again?”
“Probably,” I don’t hesitate in my response. “Does that make you sad?”
