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"What about you?" I asked. "Are you close with your parents?"
Alfie's jaw tightened. "Not exactly."
"Brothers? Sisters?"
"Just me and my Ma. My dad went to prison for murder when I was young, and he died in a yard fight. My mom’s an alcoholic who seems to think every one of her problems in life can be solved by drinking, gambling, or cussing me out. I guess I look too much like my old man.”
It was so matter of fact, the way he said it, with a humorless smirk on his face. My heart broke for him. “I’m sorry, Alfie.”
“Don’t be. She made her bed, and she’s got to lie in it—Ma knew who Dad was when she married him.” He shrugged. “I should cut her off, it’s just…hard, you know? She’d drown in her own filth if I didn’t pick her up out of it from time to time. At the end of the day, she still my mom.”
I nodded. “It’s kind of like that for Luca. His parents were awful, but he still tries to support his little brother, even though he usually has to dodge a fist to do it.”
“Or an empty bottle of Jack, in my case.” Alfie shook his head, but then he looked at me. “So, should I be worried about thisfriendLuca?”
“Trying to size up the competition?” I teased. Alfie opened his mouth to speak, bristling like a peacock, and I hushed him with a finger to his lips. “It’s not like that. Luca picked me up when I was at my lowest and had my back when I needed it. He’s like a brother to me.”
“A brother, huh? Well, I guess I can’t fault a guy for looking out for you. Just as long as he keeps his hands to himself,” he growled. Alfie laid back on the grass and stared up at the brilliant colors splashed across the sky, chewing his bottom lip thoughtfully. “I guess I’ve got someone like that. A couple someone’s, in fact, although Tommy’s idea of helping sometimes leaves something to be desired.”
“Sofia can be like that,” I admitted. “She means well, though.”
“So does Tommy, but he’s a lunatic. Still, I’d probably be dead if it wasn’t for him and Connor.” Alfie pulled my hand onto his chest and weaved his fingers into mine. “I was an asshole of a teenager, always getting into trouble. Got mixed up with the wrong crowd. Dropped out of school. Connor made sure I had somewhere to crash and food in my belly, and Tommy made sure nobody gave me too hard of a time.” Alfie paused. “Actually, Tommy was more of a bad influence than anything else. Christ, the shit we used to get up to. I’m surprised Connor doesn’t have an ulcer, or grey hair, or something.”
I smiled. “A bit of a mother hen?”
“That’s an understatement.” Alfie frowned. “He’s always been that way, though, ever since Aiden died.”
“Aiden?”
“Connor’s cousin. He took Connor’s place on a run and got shot. Bled out in Tommy’s arms. It messed them both up pretty bad, though neither one will talk about it. Everything changedafter that. No more fun and games.” Alfie fell silent and stared up at the sky. His hand was warm on mine, holding my palm against the heart beating steadily in his chest. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you this. I don’t know why I am.”
“Because sometimes we just need someone to listen. Life is short, especially this one. Anyone can be taken. Just like that.” I smoothed my thumb against his chest, and he turned to stare at me.
“Yeah. That’s what scares me.”
The walls had completely retreated and saw who he truly was for the first time. The bruised, scared kid who had grown up to be a key player in the Irish mob, hiding his wounds behind a mask of swagger and sarcasm. And sex. Alfie had made no secret of his reputation as a player, but there was none of that now, and I realize that wasn’t really him—if it ever was. Lying next to him, stripped down and vulnerable in the grass, giving me ample ammunition to use against him.
Alfie was my family’s enemy. I wasn’t supposed to want this. I wasn’t supposed to trust him.
But isn’t that what love was supposed to be about? Handing someone your pain and fears and insecurities, and trusting that they won’t use them to hurt you? Love isn’t simple and it’s rarely straightforward. It’s messy and raw and maybe even something that you have to sacrifice for.
On the grassy hill near Fenway, beneath a technicolor summer sky, I decided that my Irishman was worth sacrificing for.
I kissed him. Alfie’s eyes fluttered closed, and he relaxed beneath me, sighing into the kiss. His strong, lean frame that was more than capable of pinning me to the ground was soft and pliable beneath my hands, submissive to my touch in a way that made me feel both cherished and powerful. His kiss held more depth than I could bear, than I could fathom. I wanted moreof it. I wanted more of him. I deepened the kiss, tugging at his bottom lip with my teeth.
That ignited something in him. Alfie pulled me on top, his hands gripping my thighs as I straddled him. He growled and twisted his fingers in my hair, whispering against my throat. "I've been dreaming about tasting you again. Only this time, I want to do it properly."
I shivered as his fingertips skimmed up my sides, his lips pressing against my shoulder. “What, the check-out counter wasn’t good enough for you?" I teased.
Alfie chuckled. "As romantic as that sounds...I'd rather have you in my bed."
Oh. I swallowed. Alfie must have mistaken my hesitance, because he pulled us to a sitting position, although he kept his arm wrapped around me. He fidgeted and stared out at the cityscape around us, suddenly uncertain.
"What?"
"Shit, Emilia. I’m not good at this whole relationship thing." Alfie scrubbed a hand down his face like he was frustrated about something. His voice was rough when he spoke. "I would never hurt you. I need you to understand that. But this thing between us--whatever this is--comes with a few more strings than most people have to deal with. I want you to trust me, but how can you when you're standing on one side of the line and I'm on the other?"
Alfie took my hand in his and interlaced our fingers. "Which is why I'm not going to do anything other than walk you home. Not tonight, anyway."
