He snaps out of it, stretching in his seat. “Excuse me, ladies. Nature’s calling, and it has a three-gallon piss for me to depart in the jacks.”

He stands up and saunters to the bathroom. I realize he knows this house by heart—been here probably dozens of times. He and Kath share history, chemistry. I should feel happy that Kathleen might end up with a guy like Mal, if she ever manages to tame him. Funny and charming and handsome.

But for some reason, I don’t.

As soon as Mal is out of earshot, I shake my head and smile. “He’s a wild card, huh?”

Kathleen’s sweet smile drops. She plucks a tube of lip gloss from her handbag on the table and squeezes a generous amount onto her pinched lips.

“What he is and what he’s not shouldn’t matter to you. He’s mine.” Her warm voice is now a cold, pointy blade running along my neck.

“Excuse me?” I slant my head back.

She smacks her lips, lifts her teacup—pinky in the air—and takes a slow sip. “The problem with Malachy is he has a weakness for strays. No matter how dirty, no matter how rabid.” She narrows her eyes at me. “No matter how dangerous.”

I study the way her face twists in revulsion, my mouth parting in shock.

Fake.

It was all fake.

My sister is not nice or timid or disoriented. She is the devil.

She hates me. She’s always hated me. That’s why Father Doherty wanted me to stay away. That’s why he directed me to his sweet grandson. Kath just puts on a mask for Mal.

“You know, Da said he’d made a terrible mistake when he came from Paris and it became known he’d impregnated the American slag. But personally, I’ve always wanted to meet my wee half-sister. Until he died and it became clear you’d go after his money. I didn’t want to believe it. I truly didn’t. I even wanted to write to you.”

“Yet you didn’t.” I grit my teeth, holding her gaze now. “How convenient of you to say you wanted to reach out, but never did.”

I feel cold again. I want Mal to come back, to soak the room with his warmth.

She flashes a mocking smile.

“Fancy seeing you here a second after he drops dead.”

My nostrils flare, and my heart kicks up. Whatever she’s insinuating is complete BS and far removed from the truth.

“I’m not here for his money,” I hiss, narrowing my eyes and hoping to God I look as menacing as I feel. “I’m here to see his grave, where he lived and grew up. To take some pictures, so I can look back at them and tell myself I came here and connected to my roots. There’s half of me I don’t even know. I’m carrying a stranger’s genes in my body, for crying out loud.”

“Why not sooner, then?” She rolls her eyes on a sarcastic smile.

“I wasn’t of legal age to make that decision!”

“Is that why your mam sent a letter to my grandparents asking to see the will? So you can connect not only with your heritage, but also a nice Gucci bag?”

It’s a surprise my jaw doesn’t hit the floor. I want to kill Mom. Or at least I think I should. I don’t know what I’m entitled to or not. I don’t care. I’m not gonna use his stupid money. This is not what this trip is about.

“Listen, I—” I start, but she cuts me off.

She leans forward, clutching my hand in hers across the table. Kathleen squeezes painfully, crushing my bones, her plastic smile making an unexpected comeback. Now I know that when she hugged me at the door, she really did mean to hurt me. She looks like the kind of girl who’d drown her old dog to get her parents to buy her a puppy.

“No, you listen to me. You’re not going to see a penny from Da’s money. He left everything to me, and for good reason. I’m his legitimate child. You and the other poor sod who kicked the bucket, on the other hand, are nothing but mere unfortunate accidents. Also, you can shag Mal all you want for however long you’re here, but it is me who will marry him. So just remember that when you’re writhing underneath him and letting him use you. He’ll fuck you, because he can, but it’s me who will warm his bed forever. And that’s you in a nutshell, Aurora. A cheap version of me. In Da’s life. In Mal’s.”

Her grip tightens even more around my hand. I pull away, but she is strong, and I’m too stunned to move. Her lips twitch and widen. “And please don’t embarrass yourself by trying to pull your mother’s trick and get knocked up. Surely you know he won’t follow you to America, and if you expect to dump your spawn at my door, you’re in for a terrible disappointment.”

I stare at her, wondering how I could be genetically linked to this cardigan-wearing, fire-spitting green-eyed monster.

“You’ve got it all wrong.” I try to yank my hand away again, but she tugs harder, digging her manicured, neutrally colored nails in.

Usually, I’m a take-no-crap kind of person, but right now, the shock of being in a foreign land and hearing this from my only living relative besides Mom freezes me to the spot. Turns out, I’m not a fight, nor a flight type of person. I’m a let’s-sit-here-like-a-log-and-see-how-it-pans-out chick.

“Stay away from Mal. He is mine. The money’s mine. Everything you see here, everyone you meet, belongs to me. Leave.”

“You think I’m after the money? Your crush?” I spit the last word.

Moments ago, I’d have died before laying a finger on Mal. But right now? I would likely hump him on her dining table, preferably as she eats her dinner in front of us.

“I think you’re a gold-digging whore like your mother. She ruined my father and everything I knew and loved. You’re the reason I lost him for a while.”

A while? What does she mean by that? Pointless to ask, as she seems less than cooperative with me.

“You’re a bitch,” I retort.

Not the most eloquent of comebacks, but one that comes from the heart.

She smiles. “Well, I’m the bitch who owns everything you want, so I’ll happily take the title. Now, now, don’t look so riled up. Mal loves me more than life itself. If you tell him I said any of those things, he’ll kick you to the streets.”

Mal reappears at the kitchen door with perfect timing, plopping back on his chair. He notices Kathleen’s hand on mine. She pats the back of my hand in a motherly way and straightens her spine.

“Bonding. I like it.” He looks between us, yawning. “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing important,” she purrs, blinking in my direction with a sugary, meaningful smirk. “I just brought Rory up to speed.”

Eight years ago

Rory

“Know what’s ironic?” Mal asks when we exit Kathleen’s house.

I’m still shaken and nauseous from our visit. When I told Mal I’d had enough of our friendly chat, Kathleen altruistically volunteered to drive me back to Dublin. She really is a saint. Not. Mal, who has been blessed with the diplomacy skills of a soiled diaper, informed her that we were planning to spend the rest of the night together.

It was the first—and I hope the last—time in my life that I took pleasure in someone else’s misery. She could burn in hell at this point and I wouldn’t even hand her sunscreen.