Marcus doesn't love me.
Marcus is a murderer.
But right now? There's something about being in the large, warm, comforting kitchen at the McCarthy family home that makes me feel welcome in a way I don't think I ever have. I'm not used to this.
The camaraderie between the sisters. The warmth and welcome.
Their mother sweeps into the room, tall and majestic, with kindness in her eyes I can spot a mile away. She has dark-black hair that's silver at the edges, swept up in a messy bun that’s kind of cute. She wears a pretty but simple cream-colored lounge set. I want to hug her.
“Well, hello,” she says, giving me a bright smile. “Who do I have the pleasure of meeting?”
“Mam,” Bronwyn says‚ the youngest of all. She's rosy-cheeked and fair, with long blonde hair, and her eyes dance with merriment. “You're not going to believe this,” she says with a grin. “This is Bianca White.”
She pauses, as if waiting for her mam to have a moment of recognition. But she doesn't.
“The name's familiar,” she says.
“No, it's notwhoshe is that's going to surprise you. You probably wouldn't know… something about her father working for us. Right?” she says to me.
I nod.
Caitlin smiles back at me and winks.
“Then what's going to take me by surprise, lass?” she says, tipping her head to the side.
“It'swhobrought her here today,” Bronwyn says, as if announcing she just found the juiciest bit of gossip to share with her mother.
She looks at me. “Who'd you come with, Bianca? What alovely name for such a lovely girl.” There’s an authenticity in her voice that makes me warm inside.
No one ever calls me beautiful. No one except Ashland. I swallow.
“Ashland?” I say, and I don't know why it comes out as a question.
She stares and blinks. “Ashland? Are you joking?” She grins, walks over to me, and grabs both my hands, squeezing them. “You're with Ashland, love?That'swhy he's been so secretive.”
“Aye,” I say with a smile. “Things are complicated, but aye, I'm with him.”
“Oh,” she says, brushing the air as if the complications don't matter. “Every single relationship in our family is complicated, lass. That's what happens when you're, you know, the McCarthys. But wait. Oh, right. It was your da who managed the ring, wasn't it?” she says, as if cataloging the memories as she taps her lips.
“Aye.”
Bronwyn shakes her head.
“It's alright,” I say. “At this point, I think it's important to talk about the truth. You have to understand, Mrs. McCarthy?—”
“Please,” she says, reaching for my hand. “Call me Caitlin, lass. Sit down, have a cuppa. I always say there'snothing like a cup of tea to settle you, right? Have a seat, love.”
I take a seat, and tears prick the backs of my eyes. My throat is tight, and I feel like I'm going to cry. I need to, I think, but not now. Mam's always told me to suck it up, pull myself up by the bootstraps, and whatnot. But here, Caitlin's patting the table beside her and gesturing for somebody in the corner to bring a plate of shortbread.
I look over, and Erin's smiling. “Here,” she says. “Caitlin's right, Bianca. Everything in this family is complicated, so don't apologize for that. But I've been thinking…” She pulls a chair across from me. “I have some questions.” She shakes her head. “No, not now.”
“What is it?” I ask, looking at the shortbread. The other girls tuck in, and I take one myself.
While they talk, Caitlin pours me a bracing cup of hot tea. It's so hot, it nearly burns my tongue. But she's right—it does help. I swallow a bite of shortbread, and Bronwyn pushes the plate toward me to take another.
“These are the best you’ll ever have,” she says with a wink. “Mam’s got a mate in Scotland who keeps us well stocked.”
I smile back at her. “They're delicious.”
