“I’m moving to San Francisco.”
“I live in LA.”
“I’ll commute.”
“You aren’t my type.” Turning fully to face him, the back and forth has me ready to argue and fuck him in this bar.
“Good, then that means this time it will work out.” He holds up his glass and then downs it in a salute to his promise.
I refuse to take a sip of my own whiskey and Coke. I’m too busy trying to figure out why the hell I’m reacting to this man like this. Never in my life has a man felt so familiar so soon. Not even Charlie.
Before I can think of a comeback that squashes this whole attraction, Rowan grabs my arm and hands me another shot. By the time I wash it down, I’m happy not to return to what we were talking about.
Chapter 4
Itcouldbetheridiculous amount of alcohol I consumed, or the yelling that is making the walls seem like they are shaking, but something is causing my head to throb. I roll over and check my phone to see it’s 1:15 pm.
“Ugh,” I mutter.
The lack of windows is the only reprieve for my squinting eyes. The darkness shields everything in front of me.
“Come on!” I hear through the door jolting me a little more awake.
“What the fuck?” Someone else yells, prompting me to sit up.
Out of courtesy for the fact that I’m in someone else’s home, I have on a tank top and pants in lieu of the lack of clothing I usually rock to bed. My large titty still found a way to show itself, pouring out of the side of my top, floppy and restricted all at the same time.
I put it back in place and get up to turn on the light. Grabbing everything I need for a shower, I sneak down the hall to the bathroom.
Emerging an hour later, put together and ready to face the day, I turn the corner to the chaos of almost the whole family watching a football game.
There is Christmas music in the background, and the tree lights are twinkling, making the room feel chaotic and warm.
“Good morning,” Mary says.
She is seated on her husband’s lap while he rests in a recliner. His arms are wrapped tightly around her, holding her against his chest. His salt and pepper hair is the only thing that makes him look different from Callahan. They share the same big frame, square jaw, and striking eyes. When he smiles, I see that they even have that in common.
He pops up, easily placing Mary on the couch, and offers me his hand, his shake firm and tight.
“Nice to finally meet you. I’m Cormac. Did ya sleep well?” Unlike the rest of his family’s accents, his has more of an Irish lilt.
Rowan once told me he came to the country after meeting her mom. Even with more than thirty years here, his heritage still shows.
“I did sleep well. Until the game started.”
As if to prove my point, Conor yells at the TV again, drawing everyone’s attention.
“Let me get you some breakfast to make up for it,” Mary says, moving towards the kitchen.
“I’m going to save my appetite for dinner.”
Her lips pull down, making me understand why all her kids are so big.
“Join us in the kitchen, all the same,” she says.
“Move your ass down the field,” Cormac shouts while going back to his seat, distracted by the game again.
I follow Mary and see Rowan, Quinn, and another woman doing various cooking tasks. The woman introduces herself as Eliza, Finn’s wife, and continues to bounce the baby on her hip. Mary kisses his forehead before turning to me.
