Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85322 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 341(@250wpm)___ 284(@300wpm)
I looked over my shoulder to find Dad watching us.
“What the fuck?” I mouthed. What could I say to make this better? And to stop the roller coaster? ’Cause, frankly, I was ready to get off. Her mood swings were giving me whiplash.
“Maybe I don’t want the truth, and that’s why I need to ask for forgiveness,” she cried. “My sweet boy—you could not have done this. Promise me.”
She didn’t want the truth.
I smiled and cupped her face in my hands. “Ma. I had nothing to do with this. But I will tell you one thing. If I ever find out who did it, I’ll be the first to send them a big fucking bouquet of flowers, and I ain’t sorry about that. I’m glad they’re gone. They’ll never hurt you again.”
She sniffled and wiped fruitlessly at her cheeks. “Okay,” she croaked. “I want to heal now. I want to buy Christmas gifts for my grandbabies, and I…and I never want your father to be in charge of dinner ever again. I cannot handle more fast food.”
I chuckled and brushed back some of her hair.
She released a heavy breath. “I will not ask any more questions about this.”
“All right.” I hesitated, ’cause I did have one more thing to bring up. It was only a matter of days before the cops knocked on her door to ask questions. “Um. Just so you know, the police might stop by. You know. They’ll wonder if the Sons are involved, in which case it looks strange that…you know, I’m related to them, and to you…”
She cocked a brow. “You want me to play stupid and act like I didn’t raise a mobster. Yes? And guess what—I will lie better than you right now. I will also beg for forgiveness after.”
The wonders of Catholicism.
“You should come with me to church,” she repeated decisively. “Go eat your breakfast. We will leave in fifteen minutes.”
Oh, for the love of—
EPILOGUE 1
A few weeks later
December 29th
Alfie Scott
“Dada, up!” Kian demanded.
Finn took a swig of his pint before handing the glass over to Liam, and then he hauled his boy up on his shoulders. “You promise to sit still while Daddy plays the whistle?”
“Whoo!” was Kian’s excited response. He beamed at the crowd across the pub and waved to Emilia. “Momma, hi! Hi!”
I grinned and bent down to Ellie and Trip. “You remember what to say when we ask the question before the song?”
“I remember!” Ellie said proudly.
“Yeah.” Trip smirked and went back to sucking cocoa through a straw.
I kissed their foreheads, then gave West a smooch too.
“Enjoy the show,” I said against his lips.
He touched my cheek. “Second time seeing it, first time loving every minute.”
I smiled like the love-sick idiot I was then joined my mates on the little stage.
Liam handed me a microphone. Finn picked out a whistle from his case. Ted, some distant cousin who sounded like Josh Groban, threw back a shot of vodka. No tea and honey for that voice.
A few months ago, the four of us had performed this song at Mick’s back home in Philly. Life had looked a lot different then. It’d been filled with anxiety, hope, dread, and doubt.
Now… This pub looked a lot like Mick’s, proper Irish, only it was actually in Ireland. Killarney, the home of the O’Sheas. My daughter wore a dress that glittered, my boy had donned a bow tie, Colby was acting like he and the other teenagers hadn’t stolen beer, and my man was happy.
Kids ran between the tables, high on sugary mocktails and the New Year’s spirit. We were evidently celebrating the fuck out of life for three full days. We’d arrived the day before yesterday, and West and I hadn’t had a minute to ourselves. It was one event after another. Brunch at the pub, dinner at the pub, party at Emilia and Finn’s house, drinks at Shan and Kellan’s place…
Between Philly, Chicago, Boston, Dublin, Cork, and Killarney, about fifty or sixty relatives filled the pub. But thankfully, not all were invited to the private dinners. I mean, I was social and shit, but even I had limits.
Tonight was no private affair.
“Eric!” Finn called. “We’re waitin’ on your ass!”
Kellan cued up the song on the laptop. “Speaking of, how’s yours, Alfie?”
I scratched my eyebrow with my middle finger.
“Don’t make me leave the chat again,” Finn threatened. “You fuckers make me clench a lot.”
I laughed under my breath and spotted Eric emerging with his fiddle. For the special occasion and all. He hadn’t played with us last time, but he was apparently excellent with the fiddle.
Liam switched on his mic and stepped forward. “Everyone having a good time tonight?”
“Aye!”
“I’ve had better!” Kellan trolled.
“Barely any jet lag at all!” Oh, West was gonna be funny too.
“Hi, Daddy!” Ryan yelled.
I grinned and turned on my microphone too.