Striding into the room, I took in the work and had to admit, my crew and Inessa had done me a fucking solid.
The walls were a creamy pink, and the pale ash-blond office furniture had gold accents while the soft furnishings were cozy, but there were those box-type shelves that’d organize even the messiest of souls and that certainly wasn’t my wife.
It was already filled with her knickknacks and a bunch of her yarn, as well as drawers and a shelving unit that Inessa told me would help her keep her crafts separated.
There was a play corner for Roman, as well as a large sofa that would convert into a bed. Just off the room, a small hall led to a tiny kitchen and bathroom area.
Not that the practicalities appealed to her.
But her and Roman’s safety wasallthat mattered. Inessa had just prettied it up.
“Turn left,” I ordered so that she faced the wall of books.
For an endless amount of time, she gawked at it then she squealed again, and her mouth collided with mine.
Proof I’d done good.
Confirmed when the barrage of kisses continued into multiple minutes of her showing me her appreciation for the gift that had been tailored to her.
Her nails dug into my throat as she angled my head back, and then she didn’t just nip my bottom lip. She outright bit it. “Fuck a baby into me, Brennan O’Donnelly.”
And that goddamn Neanderthal in me didn’t give a shit about that conversation we’d just had. Didn’t care that medicine would prevent it.
I just did as any Fecker would on Christmas Eve…
I gave my bride precisely what she asked of me.
SEVENTEEN
TEXT CHAT
Brennan: Erase all CCTV footage from my elevator/private parking for the past thirty minutes
Conor: Camille blessed you, huh?
Conor: Is this your Christmas gift?
Brennan: Fuck off
Conor: You owe me. Again.
Brennan: When don’t I?
Conor: Where’s my ‘please’ and ‘thank you?’”
Brennan: At the bottom of the Hudson
EIGHTEEN
“Paddy,I’ve just gotten off a three-hour long Valentini gift-opening video call where all my nieces and nephews decided to surprise us with an off-key rendition of a horrendous Sicilian carol! I don’t have time for this. I have three girls to get ready, and as far as I’m aware, you know how to dress yourself.”
Not that you could tell from the heinous Christmas sweater he wore.
It looked like it had been made from the fur Pebbles’s shed.
Watching me tug the rollers from my hair, he wailed, “But Lena’s like you. She makes me dress right!”
“It isn’t a crime. Luc said he bought you a capsule closet. That means everything matches everything else.”
