Chapter Twenty-Four

Gabriel

 

For the next month, we drive lazily west, taking our time, stopping in motels and making love every night. I never knew what love was until I met Colleen. I would think about it sometimes, maybe, looking at other people and wondering how they could spend their lives committed to another person. It never made sense. But now it does; just looking at her fills me with fierce emotion, far fiercer than anything the Family ever provoked.

 

I track what’s going on back in New York, and it’s all good for us: the Italians are waging a civil war of their own, forgetting all about us, and the Irish are going about business as usual. Through one of my contacts I learn that Alma is pregnant with a second child; he tells me that the O’Rourkes have lost all interest in Colleen since then.

 

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, as we coast through the mind-boggling vastness of Wyoming, the trees standing like giants all around us. I never took myself for a man to be taken away by scenery, but when you’ve lived your whole life in New York, a little nature goes a long way.

 

“It’s okay,” she says, smiling at me. “You’re my family now. And look.” She waves a hand at the forest, which rises up onto a hill. Every couple of miles, houses sit right next to the trees, so close they’re almost in the gardens at times. “Isn’t this just amazing? I don’t want to be anywhere else apart from here, with you.”

 

I reach across the car and squeeze her thigh. “I feel exactly the same,” I tell her.

 

She makes an odd whimpering sound and turns to look out of the window, pressing her face against the glass.

 

“I something wrong?” I ask her.

 

“I just … no, everything’s fine.”

 

“You’ve been acting strange since we stopped at the gas station yesterday,” I point out. It’s true. Ever since we stopped, she’s been slightly distant with me. It’d make me worried if I thought there was any chance she was having second thoughts, but that doesn’t seem to be it. We made love last night and we were as close as we always are. Made love, goddamn … what a lady can to do a killer is one hell of a thing. “You know you can talk to me,” I go on. “Hell, who else are we gonna talk to, eh?”

 

“It’s nothing,” she mutters, a little testily. “It’s just … Wow, Gabriel, just look at that.” She points to a large house nestled in a miniature forest of its own. There’s a For Sale sign outside.

 

“Come on, then.”

 

I turn the car into the driveway and kill the engine.

 

“Why don’t we have a look around?”

 

“Are you serious?” she says, smiling now. Man, I live for the damn smile. If every day for the rest of my life is spent trying to get her to smile at me like that, I think I could die a happy man. “Really?”

 

“Come on.” I go around to her side of the car and open the door for her.

 

“What a gentleman,” she quips, kissing me quickly on the cheek. “Should we call the realtor?” she asks, nodding at the sign.

 

“No need,” I tell her. “We’re not going to steal anything.”

 

I walk toward the house: a large porch with an overhanging roof that looks like the sort of place a married man might live with his wife. It looks perfect, then.

 

“But how are we going to get in?”

 

“I’ve still got some tricks up my sleeve, princess.”

 

She scowls at me, nudging me in the arm playfully. “If you call me that again, I am going to hurt you. You know I can.”

 

I nudge her back. “You’re the most dangerous person alive,” I agree. I search all the windows, looking for one that has been left slightly open to avoid damp: an old trick I learned back in the Family days. It’s at the side of the house, barely half an inch ajar. But it’s enough.

 

“All right, wait here.”

 

I pry the window open and then walk through the house—high ceilings, large, open-plan, grand—and then open the front door.

 

“Come on in,” I say.

 

She curtsies, though she’s wearing pants so she mimes it in the air. “Thank you very much.”

 

We explore the house together, Colleen’s smile getting wider the whole time. It’s not easy for her after everything that happened, but if Alma ever truly thought that Colleen was weak in any way, she was dead wrong. Colleen is made of steel, even tougher than me. I’m proud to be her man. I tell her as much when we’re in the master bedroom, en-suite bathroom and tall vanity unit in the corner, the mirror-frame golden and decorated.

 

“I don’t know about that,” she mutters.

 

“All right, princess, what is it?” I grab her shoulders and turn her toward me. “Something’s wrong and you’re gonna tell me right now. It’s me and you against the world, remember?”

 

She looks down at the floor. “That’s what I’m afraid of. If I tell you …” She sighs, looks back into my eyes. “But you’re right. I can’t keep it to myself, not forever.” She laughs at a joke only she understands, and then tells me the punchline: “I’m pregnant, Gabriel.”

 

I lift her off her feet and spin her around the room, hugging her and kissing her more than I ever have before, kissing her forehead and her cheek and her chin and her neck and her chest, wherever my kisses land. I kiss her until she has to disentangle herself, giggling, tears sliding down her cheeks and face turning red as though unable to contain everything she feels.

 

“You’re glad?” she squeals. “Really?”

 

“What do you think about this place for a family home, eh?” I ask, unable to stop smiling. My face feels tight, I’m smiling so much.

 

She stops me with a kiss, rubbing her body against mine, and then leans back in my embrace. I hold all of her weight, as I always will.

 

“Do you mean that?” she whispers, tears sliding endlessly.

 

“I do,” I tell her.