We settled down, finally, and both of us stared at the two other halves of ourselves. I never would have guessed we’d ever have moments like this. We’ve all come a hell of a long way in almost two years.
“I’m innoway saying that this should happen right now…but since Pops isn’t here…”Oh, God…lay it on thick, you wretch.“You’ve got my blessing, Bridge. Marry that fucker. Or I’ll find out what being Kendall O’Dell is like.”
“Gross.”
CHAPTER 24
The Pawn
I don’t remember much about my parents. I’ve been reminded that my mother wasn’t very social, which is probably where I get my introvert nature. Father was a functional drunk, like an unfortunate number of Irish men. He worked hard, and was known to be a funny lad…while also atankthat brawled in pubs. But neither of them lived to see me grow up. I ended up on Callum’s radar pretty early on, and he did his best to raise me like his own. Once I started dabbling in useful trades…Ibecameone. I swore my blood. Inked my hand. Sold my soul. I did his bidding for the sake of having a family I could call mine.
…But it never really felt like home…
Walking through the front door of the house that Bridget and I built…that was unlike any other feeling I’ve ever known. A place we don’t share with a hundred other people. A place that feels likeus. A spot like the Greys own, that has the energy to make a family dinner become something unforgettable. Walls that’ll hear every laugh…and every fight. Rooms that’ll keep memories safe for those moments we need to look back and feel somethingreal. It’s shiny. There’s a shit ton of red. Bridget’s stuff is still everywhere, and the dishes are never done unlessIdo them…but this.This is home.
And this is the first Christmas tree I’ve ever decorated.
It fucking shows.
“You can’t put another red one there, stupid. You gotta spread ‘em out.”
She walked right into that. I cut her a look, smirking and wagging my brows. It earned me an elbow to the stomach—as it usually does.
“Bridget, the whole tree is fucking red, love. You do realize that, don’t you?”
Emmy popped her head around the other side of the tree. Her adult teeth have finally grown in, and she looks like the most adorable, pain in the ass chipmunk I’ve ever seen.
“Swear jar, Uncle Dec.”
“Extra dollar for the word‘stupid’,” Ruth added, moving the ornament I’d just painstakingly hung.
“We don’t evenhavea rutting swear jar!”
“You do, actually.” Seven shook a baby bottle as she handed Vivian a candy cane and shooed her away to hide it from Greg and Maggie. “It’s under the tree, wrapped in toilet paper because we’re classy bitches.Happy Christmas.”
Malek strolled into the living room, holding the baby in his arm and tucking a pink blanket around her as he raised her up and kissed her tiny head—a head full ofred hair. They named her Maeve. And Princess Maeve has turned every single one of us into mush. Some part of me envies them, sometimes. It might be because every time I look at the little lass…I see a piece of Bridget. I may not want it for a long time yet, and if Bridget’s taught me anything, it’s that the things worth having can’t be rushed. My job now, is tolive…and to keep my eagle eyes wide open so that all of us can continue to do so.
Through all the chatter, the spark of life, the craziness and the Irish insults…the blood…the skeletons in our closets. Through all our pitch-black darkness and the way we came together…I saw it. I saw it as I looked around the house that we built from all the ashes of what used to be.
Greg hoisted Vivian up to hang an ornament near the top of the Christmas tree, Maggie picking more out of the boxthat Em was digging through. Vernon held tight to Miss Ruth, now fully recovered, as they watched us and their precious grandchildren make memories. Seven and Malek sat close to each other on the sofa, feeding Maeve and squabbling over which one got to hold her while she eats…and it twinkled.
A penny Seven wore around her neck.
A reminder of how fuckingluckywe are to have each other…no matter what manner of madness brought us here. I glanced over, wondering if Bridget was thinking the same thing…and I got my answer. She stood at the fireplace, wearing her signature color and straightening a picture on the mantle. I crept up behind her and slid my arms around her slender waist.
“Permission tocomedown your chimney?” I snickered quietly, kissing her neck as I buried my face into it. She snorted, her eyes following the hands I let rove towards inappropriate areas.
“We’ve got company, pervert. Some of themchildren, in case you need reminding.”
“They’re fine. I wanna be the first to give you a gift. If you’re feelin’ sentimental, then it’s the perfect time to sneak away. Please?”
She turned in my arms and tugged my beard, gripping my chin in her tiny hand. “You need a shave…and you have five minutes.”
“Generous of you, lass…I never last that long.”
I took her hand and led her away, leaving the framed photo of Callum and Eve behind us on the mantle.
With Bridget’s shop becoming a hit these last couple of months, it’s kept her from the house a bit more…and given meenough time to pull the best fucking Christmas giftever, out of my arse. Don’t get excited. It’s not a skating rink she can wear on her painted finger…but it’s still a statement. It’s also a promise that’s just as important as if I were asking her to marry me. After all she’s been through, and all we’ve accomplished, it’s more necessary than breathing air. I’ve worked hard to get this done. To get it right, and to get itin herewithout her knowing a thing.
