AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Connor blushed a little and smiled, seemingly pleased by the state he’d reduced me to. He’d been very careful not to push the past week, following my lead but letting his intentions and feelings known at the same time.
And I was grateful for it. I loved him, but I still needed to take things slow and at my own pace. I wanted to do this right, and we'd both seen firsthand how devastating miscommunication could be.
Connor drew in a sigh, his expression growing more serious. Concerned.
“So…how're you feeling about the dinner tonight? Are you nervous?”
I bit my lip. His parents had been invited to dinner tonight…along with my father.
The conversation from the prior week hadn’t ended that night. Connor and I had continued to talk about our mutual worries and the way things had been handled, and as a result, one thing had been made abundantly clear—I had to confront my father and Tommy.
I'd had a good relationship with them once, and if I was really being honest with myself, it would be nice to have a relationship with them again.
At least one that wasn’t openly hostile.
Just like my relationship with Connor, mistakes had been made on both sides. I now understood their motivation to push the marriage with Connor, but I did not agree with their methods or the way it was presented to me. I still felt hurt and disgusted by it. And while a small part of me still blamed my father for my mother’s death and my brother's apparent complicity with it…another, maybe larger part of me understood the reality of it.
Because I’d placed myself and Connor in the shoes of my parents. My mother had accepted the consequences of being married to the mob, just as I was choosing the accept the consequences of Connor’s profession and be with him regardless. I imagined Connor’s devastation if anything would happen to me, and I could understand a little better what my own father had felt.
I took the cutting board of chopped tomatoes and pushed them into the pan as Connor stirred.
“I’m terrified,” I admitted. “It was so much easier to hate him, but to have this conversation and actually talk about what happened…”
I pressed my back to the counter, and took his hands in mine. “The last time I had an open conversation with my father about what happened was over five years ago, and it nearly ended in blows. I think we’ve both come a ways since then. At least I have, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous.”
Connor rubbed his thumb over my knuckles. “Whatever you want, whatever you need, just tell me.”
I huffed a laugh. “Maybe…maybe just keep the liquor and the guns locked up for tonight.”
Connor chuckled and pulled me into his arms, and I melted into his embrace willingly.
"Well, look what the cat dragged in." Tommy grinned as he clapped a hand on Connor's back. "We were wondering when you'd decide to grace us with your presence again."
"You might change your tune when Cass gets ahold of you, Tommy boy. She's been cursing your name up one side and down the other all week."
"What the hell did I do?"
I raised an eyebrow. "Let's just say your seamstress work leaves something to be desired. I think a remedial first aid course is in order."
Tommy grinned at me. "Why bother, when we have you? Alfie's already up on his feet, chasing after another skirt."
"I thought he'd pretty much tapped out South Boston by now," Connor said dryly. I couldn't miss the dark shadows in his eyes. I had a feeling Alfie and Connor’s day of reckoning was coming up fast.
Tommy shrugged as he took our coats. "Says he's moved on to South End. No accounting for taste, I guess."
Tommy was wearing a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, looking surprisingly polished as he ushered us into the living room. Even his faux hawk had been combed into some semblance of order. The whole situation seemed strangely formal, almost surreal, but maybe that was just the weight of the conversation ahead of me.
Or being back in my father’s home after all these years. He’d sold the house we had out in City Point, the one with my mother’s gardens. This new house, a cold conglomeration of steel and leather held nothing but bad memories for me.
"Are you all right?" Connor's hand was a soothing presence at the small of my back. I nodded, and his hand slid down to mine, grasping it firmly. A lifeline I could hold onto.
“Hey Cass.” Sloane leaned out of the kitchen and saluted me with a whiskey in hand. It looked like she was presiding over the efforts in the kitchen. I could hear her arguing with her mother over the sound of pots and pans rattling. She leaned back out of the doorway, breathless and beaming with a maniac joy that seemed in direct contrast to the ominously formal household. “You look much better, Connor. Sounded like you had one foot in the grave, last I heard.”
“I had a good doctor,” he said, giving me a knowing smile.
I felt my face heat, and I fought down a grin. "And good food--thank you for the recipes, again."
"Anytime," Sloane said. "Like I told you, if you can handle cutting up a human being you can handle making a bit of pasta,unlike some people--no, Ma! Don't put the garlic in now, it's gonna burn--"
