“It’s fine, Celia,” Aidan breaks in. “It was just a joke.”
For a moment we all stand there frozen, and then I shove the alarm back in my pocket. “It’s time we get moving, Cee. Go find Marco and get him to bring the car around. You’ve done enough good works for today.”
Celia, her face red, turns on me. “You’reembarrassingme,” she hisses. She looks across to Aidan. “I’m so sorry, Aidan. I should never have brought him. I just wanted...”
Aidan gives his smile again, although he’s still very pale. He leans over to collect the papers and shuffles the newsletters into a pile. “I’m glad you brought him, Celia. I hoped we might clear the air about something, but I should have chosen my words more carefully. But, Finch…” He looks straight at me. “I meant what I said. If I can be of any help—”
I let out a laugh, wild and crazy, and Aidan flinches. “You?Helpme?”
“Let’s go,” Celia snaps, and stalks off down the hallway.
I turn to follow her but pause at the church entrance. Aidan has followed me out, all the way down the long middle aisle of the church. My heart’s still painfully pounding in my chest. Getting surprised like that has shown me that I’m still raw about…well, everything. But there’s one thing I’m sure about.
“I don’t need any help,” I tell Aidan, turning back to face him. “And certainly not fromyou. My husband loves me, and I love him.”
He leans against the doorway, arms crossed. He’d be attractive, sexy even, if it weren’t for everything else. “You don’t like me very much,” he says thoughtfully. “Not since the first moment you saw me, the very second Celia introduced you to me. So it’s not just about my uncle. What is it? The God thing?”
I snort. “You wanna know why I don’t like you? Okay. You’reIrish. I don’t like the Irish and I don’t trust them.”
“Butyou’reIrish.”
Marco has pulled the town car around to the front of the church, double parking and ignoring the furious honks of the traffic banking up behind on Fifth Avenue. Celia is waiting impatiently for me at the bottom of the steps.
I should go. But I can’t resist taking one quick step back towards Aidan, into his personal space, and something dark inside me wriggles pleasantly when I see him flinch.
“My name is Finch D’Amato. Does that sound fucking Irish to you?”
With that, I run down the steps and get into the car with Celia.
She spends the whole ride back bitching me out, and I let her, even though she should’ve known better than to take me with her in the first place.
“And why did we have to leave so early?” she finishes, looking at her phone. “It’s not like you have anything better to do.”
“Actually, I do,” I say casually, looking out the window at Central Park as we drive by it. I’ve discovered my outlaw sister has a fierce but fleeting temper, and it’s better to let the wave peak and crash than try to stem the tide.
“Oh, really?” she asks, skeptical.
“Really. Isn’t that right, Marco?” I say louder, and Marco looks at me in the rear-view mirror.
“That’s right, Mr. D,” he agrees.
At Cee’s glare, I remind her: “It’s Date Night.”
Chapter Three
Luca
Ihaven’t even been married a year yet, but I can’t imagine going back to my old life. Finch is my first priority these days, and I, in turn, am his. It’s worked well for us as we settle into domesticity, or our version of it.
I’ve never been beholden to anyone before, but I find that I like it.
Before Finch, I lived for work. I realize now how unfair that was for my brother. I dragged him out late, keeping him from Celia who waited at home, nervous and worried. It never occurred to me how much stress she had to deal with, but every morning when Finch kisses me and tells me to be careful, I can see the same look in his eyes that I’ve seen over the years in Celia’s when she says goodbye to Frank.
It’s fear.
Fear that it’s the last time he’ll see me alive.
I don’t like seeing that expression, but neither can I do what he once, tentatively, asked me to do—check in regularly, text, call, let him know I’m alright. In my business, it’s not wise to risk saying anything straight out or having predictable contact with anyone. It’s stupid enough of me to have the tracker in my wedding ring that I’ve had put in, but Finch is the only one who knows about it, like I’m the only one who knows about his.
