Everything about his presence in my home makes me want to scream. Scotty and I used to be close friends. We grew up together, spending time with the Murphy brothers, but grew apart in adulthood. I joined the Army while Scotty joined the Navy and became a SEAL. When he came home, he did what was expected and became a bodyguard for the Murphys. He’s a Southie gang member while I came back from war to run a small pharmacy in Boston. We remained in touch, and that was the extent of our friendship. But now, here I am with a roommate in my home.
A roommate that I don’t want. He’s been forced on me because Paddy is convinced that someone wants me dead, and the only way I’m safe is if I have a shadow 24/7. It's quite literally the most annoying trait about Patrick Murphy.
Paddy is the second in command to the Irish Mob not only for Boston, but basically all of the factions in the States, and the fucker thinks he can control my life. Despite the fact we’ve been broken up for eight weeks. Despite the fact he cheated on me months ago and it resulted in a pregnancy with some bitch that’s associated withLa Cosa Nostrain New York.
Now I have a babysitter because, even though I dumped his cheating ass, he’s worried that someone will come after me for being associated with him. I’ve fought it for months, but no one seems to give a shit what I think or want.
“Why are you still here?” I ask, heading for the coffee pot.
“I told myself I wasn’t going to ask questions. But then your ex-boyfriend–or is he your current?” Scotty shakes his head. He sips his coffee slowly before speaking again. “I don’t know what Paddy did to have you so pissed off, but he’s not letting you give him the cold shoulder. It’s been two months. And I think he’s ready for you to give in.”
I glance at the clock on the kitchen stove. Eleven A.M. Damn, I slept thirteen hours. Turning back to Scotty, I say, “What?”
Give in? To what? There’s nothing to give in to. Paddy broke my trust. The only reason I’ve been allowing Scotty to stay with me is so that Paddy stops knocking on my door at all hours to make sure I’m okay. It’s rather exhausting breaking up with an anal retentive control freak jerk-off.
“Go see for yourself.” He takes a bite of his breakfast, then sips his water, head jerking in the direction of the living room.
I exhale an audible breath but take my coffee and head for the living room. Whatever Patrick’s done, I’m not forgiving him. I’ve put up with his shit for too long, and it’s time the spoiled mafia heir learns he can’t always have his way.
It’s not that he’s about to have an illegitimate child with a woman he was interested in for all of thirty seconds. I can overlook that. It’s that he cheated on me. That trust is broken, and it’s not something I can put back together.
I rub that place over my heart, the aching coming back. God, we were so young and stupid when we first got together. Not anymore. I’m at the breaking point. I can’t keep being a secret, can’t keep being his guilty pleasure. It’s not even that he hasn’t come out to his family.
I get that. I just don’t get the incessant need to invalidate what we had. To sleep with others when we were supposed to be together.
Patrick wants to wind up with a woman. And him leaving me to have his idea of a perfect family with Camille? It’s a knife to my already pierced heart. The babyshouldcome first. But I should come beforeher. Come before a woman that was only a warm hole.
That’s the one thing it always comes back to. The one thing I’m sure I can’t forgive. And I shouldn’t have to, damn it. It’s a boundary I didn’t think I needed to make so clear.
I enter the living room, and it's covered… no. That isn’t the right word for what the fuck this shit is. I can’t even walk. Every surface is littered with various flowers. Expensive bouquets of roses on the coffee table and couches. Daisies and whatever the hell else type of flowers in ceramic vases. There’s barely a path to walk. It’s like a garden fairy vomited rainbow flowers throughout my house.
Thousands of dollars’ worth of a useless apology. God damn, dating a man that’s exploring his sexuality is infuriating.
“He’s a fucking moron,” I grumble to myself as I head back into the kitchen.
“Make yourself useful and get rid of that shit,” I say, sitting across from Scotty at the table.
“I’ll have Cal’s maid send someone over. For the record, I warned him not to do it.”
Growing up, Scotty had been closer to Declan. Declan and Paddy never cared that our fathers were only soldiers. They treated us like their brothers. The four of us had always gotten into shit together, so it’s easy for us to joke together.
“I’ll bet you did.” I deadpan. It’s more likely Scotty told him it was a wonderful idea. Probably even encouraged it. “I’ll bet Saoirse could use some flowers.” I tease, shooting my shot for payback to get under his skin. “Shame for them to go to waste.”
He snorts. “The princess who eats men for fun? Yeah, she’d probably set them on fire right after ripping my heart out and feeding it to her dog.”
Scotty was on Saoirse’s detail for years while she was in college. He’d been there for every breakup, every exam, every heartbreak. He knows her better than her own brothers. It makes him like a big brother to her, and he knows that the woman doesn’t do committed relationships.
“Oof.” I laugh, shaking my head. “She’s on to the next one already, huh?”
“I’m sure. Haven’t sat with her since Callum met Haley. But old habits die hard.”
“I don’t get this, Scotty.” Scotty is the only person who knows about my… situation with Paddy. “Why does he fuck everything up?”
There’s silence for a while before he finally answers. “He’s trying, Griffin. This is hard for him. He loves you, but being with a man when you’re second in command… it’s a death sentence. Not just for him, but for you, too.”
I chew on the inside of my cheek, trying to force away the water forming in my tear ducts. “Sounds a lot like you’re on his side.”
Scotty sets his mug down, lifting his hands in a surrendering motion. “I’m not on any side. I’m just playing devil’s advocate.”
