Nic smirked.“Nice argument, Agent.”
Cam’s serious agent face broke, a smirk to match.“I do question witnesses for a living.”
“You’re also good at knowing when to let up, when to play good cop.”
Cam’s smirk grew into a smile, dark eyes warm as he rested a hand on his chest.“No, that’s just me being a good boyfriend.”
“Add cocky to the list.”
Cam waggled his brows and Nic pushed him back playfully, but not so far he couldn’t grab his boyfriend’s hand, walking together to meet Aidan and Lauren.
Lauren reached into her purse and pulled out a bottle of Maker’s.“Is it one of these sorts of dinners?”
“Three Irishmen present,” Cam quipped.“Yes.”
“I watchedThe Wiretoo, but I wasn’t sure if that whole Irish wake thing was real.”
“It’s real,” Aidan confirmed, accent thicker for effect before he reined it back in.“Though we’re not going that far.We have a full day tomorrow.”
Lauren swiped at her bangs and pouted dramatically.“You’re a terrible Irishman.Where do I report this?”
“I’ll be sure to give you the number of the home office.”
They all laughed as they crossed the street.
“But first, food.”Aidan glanced up at the open loft windows.“I can smell it from here.”
“Chicken marsala,” Nic said, the aromas of red wine, mushrooms, and seared chicken taking him back to his childhood.It had always been one of his favorite dishes, second only to Mary’s cioppino.
“Oh God, the marsala we used to get in North End,” Cam said, practically moaning, his accent more pronounced, something that had faded since they’d returned from Boston.Nic realized how much he’d missed it and how much that trip had changed them for the better.
Using the hand in his, Nic yanked Cam to a halt.Other hand around his neck, Nic hauled him in, stealing a quick, hard kiss.“You are a good boyfriend,” he whispered against his lips.“I wouldn’t want to go through this with anyone else, or alone.”That’s what the old Nic would have wanted, but the one holding Cameron Byrne’s hand, the one who knew he had someone to call, someone to tell his story to, someone to go home to after a no-good horrible day, wanted this man with him, always.
Cam’s dark, heated eyes stared back at him.“I’m with you, baby.”
As was his family.
And Nic wanted to be with them tonight too, more than he even wanted sleep.Hand in hand with Cam, walking into Mel and Danny’s condo to the smell of marsala, to Danny flirting with Mary by the stove, to Mel scowling at the bottle of whiskey Lauren offered, Nic relaxed for the first time since they’d left the house that morning.
Cam closed the door behind them, and Mary eyed them over her shoulder.“Cameron, kitchen now.”
Cam’s eyes twinkled.“The chef calls.”He loosened his fingers, gave Nic a smacking kiss on the cheek, then hurried into the kitchen like a kid at Christmas.
Mel appeared at Nic’s side, two glasses of whiskey in hand.“He took to Mary quickly,” she observed, offering him a glass.
Nic took a sip, smiling as two dark-haired, six-foot-plus Irishmen took orders from a five-foot-nothing slip of an Italian woman.“She’s actually a lot like Cam’s mom.And she cooks.”
Mel laughed.“Same reason Danny has taken to her.”
He glanced to the side, a streak of worry running through him.“Not you?”He was the one who’d encouraged this arrangement.He’d hate to hear it wasn’t working out for Mel too.
“Oh, I’ve taken to her.That woman has made my life a million times easier.I owe you.”
“Glad to hear it.”He tilted his glass for a clink, the toast capped by a “We’re ready” from Cam in the kitchen.Nic threw back the rest of his drink, set the glass aside, and followed Mel to the kitchen.
Mary wrapped him in a big hug.“Eat first,” she said.“We’ll talk after about arrangements and anything else.”
Arrangements,fuck.Nic had skipped right over that in favor of the case and the estate disposition.Something else to add to the list.For after.After was good.Otherwise, he wasn’t sure how much he’d actually eat, and he didn’t want to miss out on the food or this bright moment with his family.
