“Let me know when it arrives. I believe your wife wanted a word with me.”
He picks up his phone. “Take a right out of my office and keep going until you hit the French doors.”
I check my phone once more as I wander down the hall toward the backyard. Still no messages from Father. My jaw ticks with impatience.
Two guards standing on the patio outside turn to assess me. I give them a nod of acknowledgment and keep moving toward the stunning display of flowers. I find Mary sitting on a bench in a rose garden. She’s arranging the flowers in a basket—yellow, peach, pink.
“Well, that was quick.” She squints as she smiles up at me. “I assume that means things went well?”
I sit down next to her, instantly encased in the sweet fragrance of roses. It makes me think of that saying:Stop and smell the roses. It’s been a long time since I did anything for pure enjoyment. Besides spending time with Lennon. “Very well, yes.”
She pats my knee like we’re old friends. But somehow it feels right. “I can’t wait to meet your Lennon.”
I like the way she phrased that. “You don’t harbor any hard feelings toward her?”
Her blue eyes are the same color as the sky, and they widen in alarm. “Of course not. A child is innocent. She didn’t choose to come into the world like she did. Besides,” she lifts a pink rose to her nose and inhales, “I knew when I married Mac what I was to him. A family merger. A means to an heir. He’s good to me in the ways that count, and I got three beautiful children out of it, didn’t I?” Her gaze slides back to mine. “Not that I don’t care for the old man. And I dare say I’ve won his heart over the years with my cookin’.”
We share a laugh.
“Anyway, the reason I ask you out here is to discuss Killian.” Her mood changes instantly. Darkens like clouds blocking the sun.
I sit quietly and wait. It takes her a minute of fussing with the rose petals, and trying to find the right words, before she finally speaks.
“When he was nineteen, he thought he was in love. Amber was her name. She was as wild as he was back then, reckless, self-destructive. He would’ve followed her off a cliff and in a way, he did.” Her eyes glaze over.
Her hand trembles and then a prick of red blood begins to seep from her thumb. She’s squeezing the stem of a rose.
I pull out a handkerchief. “You’ve pricked your finger,” I say softly, lifting her hand and pressing the cloth over her thumb.
She sighs and it sticks in her chest. “She was five months pregnant, sitting outside a café waiting for him when a drunk driver jumped the sidewalk and hit her. Them. Her and the babe. They were…” She swipes at her eye and straightens her back. Finally noticing the handkerchief in her hand, she pulls it away and stares at the spot of blood. “They were dead. It wasn’t instant. She suffered.” A tear falls. Her lips purse. “Killian showed up a minute too late. The wreckage, her bloody body lying in a pile of twisted metal and glass, seared into his brain forever.
"There was a doctor nearby, but Amber was too far gone to help. After the doctor declared her deceased, Killian wouldn’t let anyone touch her body for an hour. They had to place him in custody.” She turns to me. “I know I don’t have to tell you what that did to him.” She searches my face and must see what she needs. She nods. “He hides behind the joking and the don’t-give-a-shite attitude because his heart was crushed that day. It's been nine years. He’s never let anyone in again. I’m hoping having a connection with his half-sister will help him. Help him open up and trust again.”
I nod slowly. If anyone can reopen a heart that’s been closed for business, Lennon can. “I understand.”
Her eyes shine as she smiles softly. “I know you do.”
***
I’m in the back room at the Diamond Vault, designing a ring for Lennon, when my phone buzzes.
I dig it out of my jacket, which is draped over the back of the chair, and my adrenaline spikes. “I’ll be right back,” I tell the jeweler, and step out the back door for privacy. Despite the gray storm clouds crowding the sky, it’s stifling hot, and I’m immediately sweating as I swipe to answer the call from my father.
“Son.”
“Yeah.” I’m trying to decipher his mood in that one word. Trying to figure out my fate. “You have a decision for me?”
“I do.”
I close my eyes and brace myself.
“We voted and it was three to two… in favor of the alliance with the Irish.”
I blow out the breath I’d been holding and collapse against the stucco building.
“As long as what they are asking for is reasonable,” he adds.
“It is. Mac Donnelly just wants his two sons to work in our operation. His youngest son Killian wants to run a strip club and the other son we can use as we see fit.” I don’t mention Mac’s stipulation of walking Lennon down the aisle because that’s on me.
