Page 21 of Faithless Vows

A few more men stand after that, the toasts getting looser as the waiters keep coming around to top off glasses. Some offer advice while others take their shots at me, but each one ends the same way, wishing me and Alannah a good life. Just when I think everyone’s done,my da pushes to his feet, and the room goes quiet. My grip tightens around my glass, and I sit a little straighter.This is it.

“Most of you have known my son since he was a boy,” he says. “You’ve watched him grow up in this life. You’ve seen him do the work I’d expect from any man coming up under me, without being spared because he was my son. He’s learned this business from the ground up, done what needed doing, and shown he understands what comes with carrying the Byrne name. He’s earned his place in this organization, and he’s proved his worth.”

A low murmur of agreement goes around the table. Someone says, “That’s right,” and another calls, “Damn straight.”

My da waits for the room to quiet again before he continues. “Ronin’s getting married next week. Starting a family of his own. And when he does, he’ll be taking over as boss.”

The words land heavy, final.

I keep my face blank, but my chest tightens, pride and responsibility pressing against my ribs. My da came to Boston from Ireland, leaving behind everyone and everything he knew to build this business. Now he’s telling the men he trusts most that I’ll be the one carrying it sooner than either of us planned. Not years from now. Not someday. But in a matter of weeks, the shipments, the money, the men who answer to our name, every problem that lands at his feet first, all of it will land at mine.

And when it does, Alannah will be beside me. I can’t imagine anyone better suited to stand there.

“He’s ready,” my da continues. “And I’m proud to hand the business over to him.”

He raises his glass. “To Ronin.”

Chairs scrape back as everyone around me stands, glasses lifted. “To Ronin,” they echo, the words filling the room, and that’s when it really hits me. These are the men who watched me grow into this life, showed me the ropes, covered my back, and came here tonight to celebrate my stag dinner. Now they’re raising their glasses to me, showing their support as my da makes it official that I’ll be taking over soon. I push my chairback and make my way to my da’s side, setting a hand on his shoulder. “I won’t let you down,” I tell him, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Voices rise around us as everyone drinks, some calling my name, others raising their glasses to the Byrnes. My da covers my hand with his, and I hold his stare. My throat tightens at how sure he looks, like it hasn’t even crossed his mind that I could fail him. “I know you won’t, son,” he says.

I give him a small nod and make my way back to my chair. Everyone sits again, and dinner carries on, but I don’t have much appetite left. I finish what’s left on my plate because it gives me something to do, then excuse myself for the men’s room and step out, my da’s words still on my mind as I move into the lounge. My eyes sweep over the crowded bar on the way, and I stop mid-step when I see her.

Kathleen O’Malley. Or Kitty, as she always insisted I call her.

She’s standing near the bar, talking with Sully. I hadn’t noticed him leave the room. They’re too far away for me to hear what’s being said, but I can see her clearly.

Dark curls. Red lipstick. A dress made to show off her curves. Once, all of it would’ve caught my eye.

I haven’t thought about her in almost a year. Not since I told Mick I was done. Not since I proposed. Seeing her now feels strange, like seeing someone who belonged to a life I don’t live anymore.

Until now, I’d forgotten she had any connection to Sully at all.

They keep talking, neither of them noticing me. Kathleen plants one hand on her hip, the other moving sharply between them as her mouth moves faster. Sully’s face hardens when he says something back. It’s clear enough neither of them is happy, but whatever’s going on between them is none of my business, so I let it go and keep walking to the men’s room.

After I piss and wash my hands, I head back. As I pass the bar, I look over before I can stop myself, but Kathleen and Sully are gone.

Back in the room, the dinner plates have been cleared away, and a waiter is wheeling a dessert cart loaded with pies and cakes to a stop beside the sideboard. Seamus catches my eye and nods toward the empty chair beside him. I sit, and he leans in close enough for me to hear him over the noise of the room. “Alannah’s going to be over the moon when she finds out you’re taking her to Italy,” he says, grinning.

That’s what I’m hoping for.

I smile. “She mentioned once that she’d love to go,” I say. “So I made a point of choosing it.”

That seems to please him. “She’ll love it. You did good, lad,” he says. Then he looks past me to the dessert cart and grins wider. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there’s a slice of cherry pie over there with my name on it.”

He comes back a few minutes later with a plate in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, then drops into his chair and digs into the pie. He isn’t the only one. More men sit back down with plates of dessert and coffee, some still drinking something stronger. After all the drinks I took with the toasts, the whiskey has definitely caught up with me, and I doubt I could stomach anything sweet.

My da joins us with two cups of coffee, setting one in front of me before taking the chair on my other side.

“Thought you could use that,” he says.

“Thanks.” I pick up my cup and take a sip. The coffee’s good, strong, and black. My da does the same, and we both look over and watch as Seamus makes quick work of what’s left of his pie. Sitting there with the two of them, I remember I haven’t told them the decorator called or that I’m taking Alannah to see the house tomorrow, so I fill them in.

Seamus laughs at that. “Siobhán’s probably heard nothing else all evening,” he says. “That girl’s been waiting to see that house finished.”

My da leans forward to look past me. “Speaking of Siobhán, have you got your suit sorted yet, Seamus, or is she still after you about that?”

Seamus narrows his eyes at him. “I’ve got mine. What about you, or are you waiting on Eileen to pick yours up for you?”