Cillian saw the exact moment she shut down. Olivia crossed her arms over her chest and wouldn’t quite meet his eyes. Damn it, I pushed too hard. He sat back. “You know what? Never mind. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.”
Her shoulders went even tighter. “No, it’s okay.”
“Obviously it’s not.” Which only made him even more curious. What was this woman hiding that she froze up at the mere mention of her past? He wanted to know. Fuck, he needed to know. If that meathead Russian was any indication, there was at least an abusive boyfriend in her past, but if it was something more complicated, it could be putting more than her in danger. “Look, Olivia, we all have secrets. It’s okay.”
“I just…” She still wouldn’t look directly at him. “I grew up in a really rough family, and it took all the strength I had to get out—some days I wake up and wonder if I ever actually escaped or if it just bought me a stay of execution. It’s hard to talk about.”
“Then we won’t talk about it.”
She finally looked at him. “Just like that.”
“Just like that. If you haven’t noticed, I’m not looking for a quick fuck and run—not now. I’m willing to wait until you’re ready to tell me.” He kept his voice calm and easy, feeling like he was approaching a wild animal that would spook at any sudden moves. Not a deer or anything so mundane, but some kind of big cat—all claws and growls, but just as likely to run from what she thought was dangerous as she was to fight. He had a feeling that when her kid came into it, though, there was no hesitation. She’d go for his throat. “Tell me about your daughter.”
She smiled, though it was a little shaky around the edges. “She’s the best kid there ever was. I’m sure every parent says that, but Hadley is just…She’s a little ray of sunshine. It doesn’t matter what life throws at us, she bounces back with a grin on her face and so much energy I seriously wish I could bottle the stuff.”
His chest gave a funny thump at the way her face lit up when she talked about her daughter. “How old is she?”
“Fourteen months.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why they do that month thing up to eighteen months. Sometimes I think it’s just to confuse people. So, yeah, she’s a little over a year old.”
Just a baby, really. He tried to picture what a fourteen-month-old looked like and came up blank. The last kid he’d spent any time around was Keira, and he was only seven at the time. None of his siblings had started their own families yet, and the end result was that Cillian didn’t know a damn thing about kids. “That’s great.”
Olivia laughed. “Your eyes just glazed over. It’s okay. I love my baby girl, and I could talk about her for hours, but I won’t force you to sit through that.”
He might be out of his element with the topic of children, but he liked how she lit up. “No, it’s okay.”
“That’s sweet.” She turned her smile on the waitress who walked up with their food. Once she was gone, Olivia snagged a fry. “I wasn’t sure I wanted kids back in the day.”
“Why not?” He took a bite of his lobster roll.
“With my history, family comes with more complications than benefits. I didn’t like the idea of bringing a kid into that world. Plus, I was kind of the family outcast in a lot of ways, so adding to the list of things about me that they found wanting didn’t seem like a good idea.” She picked up her roll and took a bite. Watching the bliss spread over her face slammed him right back into that alley when he was the cause of it.
He shifted, trying to get his physical reaction under control. The whole point of tonight—in addition to getting to know Olivia better—was to prove to her that he wasn’t just after a piece of ass. Dragging her to the bathroom to finish what they started the other night in the alley wasn’t going to get that point across. He cleared his throat. Keep her talking. The reaction will pass…hopefully. “So what changed?”
“Hmmm?” She managed to drag her eyes open. “God, you weren’t kidding about this being the best lobster roll place in town, were you? This is downright orgasmic.” She shook herself. “Sorry, I’m getting distracted.”
“I’m not complaining.” He liked this softer side of her. It had started when she talked about her daughter, but it was even more pronounced now. The woman had more spikes than a porcupine, but once he got past those, she was…Hell, he didn’t even know.
But he wanted more.
She shot him a look. “To answer your question, it wasn’t exactly planned. I picked a guy…You know what? Never mind. You don’t want to hear this.”
It struck him that the goon he’d run into in that alley might be the father of Olivia’s kid. Cillian wasn’t sure why that bugged him more than the thought of the blond bruiser being an ex, but it did. He wanted to go back and punch the guy a few times for good measure. He took a drink of his water. “Do you still see him?”
“If I did, I’d be an asshole for sitting across this table from you, wouldn’t I?” She shook her head. “No, he and I were over about halfway through my pregnancy, but we officially went our separate ways right around the time Hadley was born. We wanted different things.”
What different things? And what the fuck kind of man left a woman who’d just had his child—especially a woman like Olivia? Cillian could barely wrap his mind around it. What would she look like pregnant with my child?
Damn it, that was out of line. He searched for something appropriate to say that wouldn’t come across like he was a caveman pounding his chest before he dragged her back to his place by her hair. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.” She took another bite, her entire face relaxing as she chewed and swallowed. “He’s not a great guy, but I got my daughter as a result. I know that sounds cliché—”
“It sounds like you love your daughter. That’s nothing to apologize for.” He tried to stop talking, but his mouth got away from him. “What you have with her is uncomplicated and that makes it even more special. You didn’t have her for political reasons.” Not like his parents had. They loved their children, though it hadn’t been the warmest household growing up, but it was impossible to forget that a good portion of the reason they’d had so many kids was because they were actively building a dynasty. They might never be the old money that held power in Boston officially, but if Seamus O’Malley had his way, his descendants would be running a decent chunk of the criminal enterprises until the end of time.
Uncharitable? Probably. But that didn’t make it a lie.
Her dark eyes were sympathetic. “Sounds like a cold reason to make that decision.”
“I think there was more to it, but it was definitely something my parents considered. I mean, fuck, there are seven of us.” He caught himself. “Were. There were seven of us.” A year later and he was still stumbling over that fact. There would come a day when he wouldn’t. He already mourned it.
“I didn’t mean to bring up a painful subject.”
“Life is full of painful subjects.” He tried to make his voice light, but didn’t quite pull it off.
Olivia saw. She’d have to be blind not to, but she did him the favor of changing the subject and not prodding deeper. “Do you want kids of your own?”
Did he? He took his time eating another bite before he answered. “I don’t know. I guess I’ve never really thought about it. Up until a year ago, I was all about living life to the fullest and not slowing down for anyone, so kids weren’t even on my radar.”
“And now?”
Painfully aware that he was talking to a woman with a kid, he picked his words with care. But he couldn’t lie to her. “I still don’t know. I like the idea of eventually settling down and starting a family at some point in the future.”
“You mean you aren’t going to follow in your father’s footsteps and try to repopulate Boston with more O’Malleys?”
He chuckled. “I think two or three would be much more manageable.”
“And you don’t have some sort of arranged marriage waiting in the wings?” She took a drink and held up her hand. “Sorry, that’s not really my business.”
“No, it’s fine.” Though he was now even more curious as to her connections to the kind of life he led. Most people considered arranged marriages a thing of the past—at least in this part of the world—so for her to broach the subject spoke volumes. He forced himself to temporarily let it go. She’d tell him when she was ready and not before. He wasn’t going to ruin a good conversation by prying, especially since she was already cagey about coming out with him in the first place. “I’m not the oldest son, so I have some freedom from that sort of thing.” His value lay elsewhere, in his bookkeeping skills.
She raised her eyebrows. “Your family sounds charming.”
“You have no idea. There are definite perks, and they’re mostly good people, but my parents don’t let a little thing like emotional attachment get in the way of their plans.”
“You don’t sound particularly bitter.”
“I’m not.” Not really. Not most days. “Like I said—I made my peace with my place in the world a long time ago.”
She tucked her hair behind her ears. “And what would your family think about you being out with me right now?”
He thought back to Sloan’s response. It hadn’t exactly been supportive, but that was more aimed at him than the woman across from him. He’d been telling the truth—when push came to shove, his skills with numbers were more valuable than any marriage he’d potentially make. That left him freer than most of his siblings. “It doesn’t really matter what they’d think. I want to be here with you, so here we are.”
For a second, she actually looked shocked before she managed to get an expressionless mask in place. Why was what he said so surprising? Sure, Irish mob families had a tendency to put family first and everyone else dead last, but as long as Olivia wasn’t some kind of sleeper agent or spy intent on bringing them all down in flames, there was no reason his family should have a problem with them dating.
In theory.
But he meant what he said. The more he found out about Olivia, the more he liked. He wasn’t about to give her up without a fight. Not now. Not until they’d had their fill of each other.
And what if that never happens?
He shoved the voice away. He’d cross that bridge when he came to it. “So, why don’t we try something easy? Tell me about your hopes and dreams and fears.”
She laughed again, the sound like the best whiskey. He could almost taste it if he closed his eyes. That night with her in the alley had been the first time he’d been with someone in…a long time. A seriously long time. Olivia picked up her water. “That’s your idea of small talk?”
“Sure. What’s wrong with that?” He knew damn well that it wasn’t small talk, but he liked that she was teasing him. He liked it a lot.
“Oh, I don’t know.” She grinned. “Everything?”
“Sit back, sweetheart. I’m about to school you.”
“This should be interesting.”
She had no idea.
*
Sloan had never been a big drinker, but she was thinking now might be a good time to start. Keira certainly hadn’t felt that five thirty in the evening was too early to begin tipping whatever was in her flask into her drink when she thought no one was looking. She caught Sloan’s frown and grinned. “Don’t look so disapproving. It’s after five.”
That logic was flawed in a seriously large way, but since her sister shut her down every time she tried to actually talk to her, Sloan turned to face the room. When Teague had invited her to the Sheridan residence, at first she’d thought it was going to be just the two of them going over the last details of her extraction. But, no, he’d invited all the O’Malley siblings.
She hadn’t realized when he said all he meant all.
Carrigan caught her eye, and Sloan immediately turned back to Keira. “I can’t believe he invited her.”
“She’s still our sister, even if she’s pretty much a traitor.” Keira swirled her drink, took a sip, and then added more from her flask. “Though Teague obviously doesn’t agree with our parents on that.”
Which was probably why their parents were noticeably absent tonight. She wasn’t sure if they’d gotten an invite or not, but she understood why they’d chosen not to come if they had been invited. She might have done the same if she’d known Carrigan would be here. “She’s with a Halloran. That’s inexcusable.”
“Is it?” Keira shrugged, taking another sip. “It doesn’t make Devlin less dead, either way.”
“Keira.”
“What? It’s the truth, isn’t it? We’re all so damn miserable. What’s wrong with one of us dredging out a little slice of happiness for herself? Maybe that’s why Mother and Father are so pissed—we’re so much easier to maneuver when we’re suffering.”
She was about to tell her sister not to talk like that, but she stopped herself. Wasn’t that part of the reason she was leaving? She was finally taking her future into her own hands and grabbing whatever happiness she could find. She nodded to where Teague stood with his arm around Callie’s waist. “Not all of us are miserable.”
“Well, duh.” Another sip. “You want to know the other thing that stands out with those two lucky little shits? They got out. Oh, not out-out.” Keira waved her hand. “But they aren’t under our parents’ thumbs anymore. Bet that helps with the whole happiness thing.”
It probably does. But she couldn’t say so out loud—not even here. No one could know she was planning on leaving. Their father couldn’t risk forcing Carrigan back into the fold and provoking a true war with James Halloran, but Sloan had no such power in her corner. Teague could get her out, but his first priority would always be Callie and the stability of the Sheridans. “You need to stop talking like that.”
“Why? Who’s going to hear me?” Keira made a show of looking around, her whole body tilting unsteadily with the movement. “It’s just us, Sloan.” Then she frowned. “Where’s Cillian?”
Sloan studied the room, only now realizing she hadn’t seen him. “I don’t know. Surely he was invited?”
“He’s been wearing his cranky pants lately. Maybe Teague decided to leave him out of it.”
She shot her little sister a look. “Because he was worried about you?” Considering her sister was obviously drunk and had decided that a pair of black leggings, combat boots, and an oversized white tank top that showed her black bra was appropriate attire for this dinner, Sloan wasn’t sure she blamed him.
“It’s none of his business. It isn’t anyone’s business.” Keira’s chin came up, a sure sign she was ready to fight. “He sent Liam after me, and I had to deal with a babysitter for the entire night. Talk about a buzzkill.”
Good. She worried about her sister’s nighttime activities enough as it was. It was good that Liam tailed after her when he could. Sloan was about to say as much, but Teague raised his voice. “There is a reason I asked you guys here tonight. If you’ll sit…”
Sloan followed Keira over to the couches situated around the living room, carefully choosing one between her sister and the arm of the couch so she wouldn’t risk sitting next to her other sister. She wasn’t ready to face Carrigan. It didn’t matter if every other one of their siblings seemed willing to forgive and forget—even Aiden from the looks of it. She wasn’t.
Not now. Maybe not ever.
Teague stood behind the overstuffed chair Callie had taken, his hands on her shoulders. “I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye in the past year—some of us more than others.” His gaze temporarily rested on Aiden before he looked at the rest of them. “But I’m hoping that we can set all the baggage aside for a night because I have great news.” His grin was downright blinding. “You’re all about to become aunts and uncles.”
Sloan blinked once, twice, a third time. Her mind churned, trying to make sense of his words, even though her gut already knew what he’d said. “You’re…Callie’s pregnant?”
Callie reached back to cover one of Teague’s hands with her own. “Yes. We’re due January eighth. I’m thirteen weeks pregnant on July fifteenth.”
Four days from now.
Oh my God. She forced a smile. Teague had always wanted kids, and to have them with a woman he was so obviously head over heels for was his dream coming true. She watched Carrigan push to her feet and hug their brother and then his wife, her thoughts a buzz of white noise.
She was happy. But there were other, uglier, emotions in there, twisting that happiness until it was downright unrecognizable.
She wanted what Teague had, and at the same time, she resented him for having left her behind to gain it. It was selfish and horrible and she hated herself a little bit for feeling that way, even if she couldn’t stop.
I’m not even going to be here to see this baby. I’m going to miss it. I’m going to miss everything.
She waited for something to rise in her, some sign that she should change her mind, but there was nothing but a growing determination to leave Boston and everything in it behind. I’m a monster.
She realized that most of her siblings had moved over to congratulate Teague and Callie, and forced herself to her feet. She had to fake it—for both of them. To do anything else would take away from his happiness today, and she wasn’t anywhere near monster enough to do that. Not yet. Because I’m leaving. They never have to know how conflicted I feel about this whole thing. How jealous.
So she hugged Teague and cooed over Callie and managed to keep a smile on her face through the whole thing. They were so busy with everyone else that they didn’t seem to notice she wasn’t totally on board.
Which was good, because she was counting down the minutes until she put Boston behind her, once and for all.