The rest of the men hold up their glasses, and I do the same. I look Finn in the eyes as we cheer, and he holds my gaze theentire time. We continue our meal, and I can’t hold back the question any longer.
“Why is your dad still with her?” I ask Cillian.
“You should know, weren’t you raised Catholic?” Cillian questions.
“I mean, kind of. My pápa donated to the church, and we went on Easter and Christmas Eve, but we weren’t really practicing.”
“Dá was raised old school. Hell, divorce wasn’t even approved until nineteen ninety-five in Ireland. Even still, it’s a hard time getting a divorce.”
“So he thinks it’s easier to cheat on her than leave her?” I ask, confused if that’s what made her the way she is or if she’s always been a bitch.
Maeve brings out the dessert, sitting the strawberries and cream right in front of me. “Orla was always a selfish cunt. Seamus sleeping with other women just made her worse. Don’t worry, girlie, I might be a crotchety old hag, but I think you’re better than this lot.” She pats my head like one would a dog as she walks away.
“Can I get another glass?” I ask, holding up my wine glass. Cillian refills it immediately, and I down it all in one go. “It doesn’t seem fair that you all don’t inherit any insane in-laws on my side.”
“Your brother trying to kill us doesn’t count?” Finn teases with a smirk.
“Touché. I won’t lie, you standing up to your mom was kind of hot,” I blurt out, and I swear to God, this gigantic mobster blushes.
“It was long overdue. I won’t let anyone ever disrespect you.”
“How very Alpha of you,” I say, and he steeples his fingers, resting them on his chin.
“I’m trying,” he says.
Finn stands up, his fingertips brushing my shoulder, and I wonder if maybe, just maybe, Finn and I can be more than just friends.
31
ELENA
I’m notsure how kicking the O’Brien matriarch out of the house turned into a drunken night in the backyard, but here we are.
The firepit and the tiki torches are lit. We’re all sitting around the fire, drinking and laughing and enjoying each other’s company.
This is always what I wanted in a pack.
Maeve put out some snacks and told us not to be obnoxious assholes while she tries to get some sleep.
I’m drinking what I believe to be my fifth glass of wine, resting my head on the chair, and looking at Cillian.
I can’t help it when I push a dark piece of hair out of his face.
“Why do you have to be so beautiful?” I ask him.
“I think you’ve had enough to drink,” he replies, placing my wineglass on the stone.
“You’re probably right.”
His hand rests on my thigh, where he’s doing this really soothing rubbing-thing, and I nearly forget all our problems.
“I’m sorry I lied,” he whispers.
“Was any of it real?”
His hand comes over and cups my face. I can hear the other guys laughing, but I’m too focused on Cillian to listen.
“Every second. I just wanted you to want to be with me, I guess. I think we both wanted the same thing in the end.”
