I’m faster than Rory and walk right to one of the chairs in front of the desk while she stares at Harrison like he’s a puzzle she just can’t figure out—and I can’t blame her. But eventually she sits as well. Right next to Harrison.
“Want me to do it, Dad?” Iris asks when he still doesn’t talk.
“No, it’s fine. I’m just waiting for Aurora here to absorb the fact that Eian trusts me so she can stop sending me that death glare.”
“Rory,” she says, her face transforming so swiftly no one who witnessed it would have any doubt her affable smile is fake as fuck. “Please call me Rory.”
My mouth drops a little at Harrison’s inelegant snort.
Harrison is . . . well . . . elegant, poised, powerful, contained.
I’ve never seen him relax in public, except when he’s with his husband or cheering for his football team, the New York Kings.
“All right, Rory. Let me tell you about a young Irish girl. She lived a pretty normal life. Her family was tough but she walked the line well. Her brother not so much. When that brother killed the man who was about to rape her, he was accused and ran away.” He’s definitely having fun telling this story but I’m still riveted. “Years later, she decided to go looking for her brother in New York where he had told her he’d always dreamed of going. She found him easily, since in those few years he’d taken control of the Irish mob and gotten married.
“Thrilled to be reunited with his little sister, the brother convinced her to stay in the city, but he didn’t want her to be a part of the mob, so he encouraged her to find her passion, to study. One day, while she was visiting Columbia, she stumbled into a man, and the way she tells it, he fell at her knees, in love with her in a millisecond.”
His smile—and Iris’s eyes, I realize when I turn to look, are sentimental and full of loving amusement.
“That woman was Nan, and the man she fell in love with was my father. So, Rory, if nothing I say will make you trust me, maybe knowing you’ve been having dinner with my ma almost every week for the past thirty-plus years will put you at ease.”
“Holy shit,” I whisper, unable to swallow down my reaction.
“I know, right?” Iris’s voice is right next to me, and I jump a little then laugh at myself. “She already loves you by the way, and can’t wait to meet the father of thatprecious angel, Maggie.” She mimics what I guess is her... grandmother? Yes, her grandmother’s accent.
“She’s also plain curious about what kind of man would make Eian fall in love.” Harrison’s tone is almost childish, like a middle-school kid making fun of his friend for having a crush.
I blush and feel stupidly embarrassed over it.
“I’m just . . . normal,” I mumble.
To my surprise, it’s Rory who snorts then.
“You’re anything but normal, Colby. And that’s coming from me.”
“Uncle Eian has told me a lot about you,” Iris says then, and when I look I see she’s talking to Rory. “He really does love you like a little sister, you know? Wants me to be like you—well,” she amends with a musical chuckle. “A bit less murderous, but you know... powerful.”
“And Bran brags about you too,” Harrison says softly. “I hope you won’t hold it against Eian, that we got to meet Bran before we met you.”
“What?” Rory asks, like that’s insane. “He’s your... well, not exactly your nephew, but close enough. I’m glad he has you.” She nods once, though her face is blank. I can tell it’sherface now. She’s not putting on a show.
“And he feels guilty about not telling you or Duffy.” Iris smiles softly at Rory.
“Man, I can’t wait to meet Duffy,” Harrison says, and he really does look excited.
“He’s going to ask you to buy him a car or a chopper,” Rory tells Harrison very seriously. “But you won’t.”
His mouth twitches with amusement, but he clearly tries to rein it in.
“I won’t.”
“Good.” Rory nods once, then stands. Done, apparently, with this meeting.
How in the hell she manages not to ask any questions, I honestly don’t know, but maybe it’s because she wasn’t inside Brent’s house. She doesn’t know Harrison was there.
“I’ll leave you to talk about whatever the second thing is.” Eian comes in right then, looking only slightly ridiculous holding a silver tray. “Are you going to tell Duffy, Mac, and Blake?” Rory asks him.
“I don’t know yet,” Eian mumbles. “Probably,” he adds after setting the tray down on the coffee table.
