“It’s a date. Where should we go?” Devin asked.
Andrew bounced in his seat. “We can ride in it too?”
“Well of course. Maybe you can even spend some time in the cockpit with the pilot since you want to learn to fly.”
“Can I Mommy, can I? Please say, yes.”
I laughed. “If it can be arranged.”
Andrew turned back to Devin and climbed into his lap. At first Devin’s expression was surprised, but quickly he helped Andrew adjust to sit comfortably in his lap.
“Where do you go in your plane?” Andrew asked.
“Usually Europe. London. Paris—“
“They have a Disneyland there. Right Mommy?”
“I think so, baby. But there are some closer to us,” I said. I didn’t want Devin thinking he had to take Andrew to Europe.
“Did you go to Disneyland?” Andrew looked up intently at Devin.
“Never been. I’ve been to the top of the Eiffel Tower though.”
“What’s that?”
The two of them chatted about everything and nothing, and my guilt grew even as my heart filled with such love for the both of them.
“Will you push me on the swing?” Andrew asked Devin.
“Honey, Devin probably has other things he needs to do.”
“No, I don’t.” Devin’s eyes narrowed suggesting he didn’t like that I was trying to give him an out. “I’ll push you on the swing.”
“’Kay. Come on.” Andrew hopped down and took Devin’s hand, leading him to the swings. I watched them, wishing things could have been different. Wishing Devin had spent the last years knowing about Andrew and being a father to him.
Devin spent the day with us at the park, and then walked with us back to the apartment.
“Some limits can be overcome,” Devin said to me as Andrew trotted ahead of us, his arms out like an airplane.
“Some,” I admitted.
“About your job. I’ll just work with other planners in your firm and if they have a problem, I’ll find a new firm.” He took my hand. He clearly had been thinking things through which only made my deception worse. If he knew our real limits, would he still be trying so hard?
“And I’ll be fired for losing their biggest client,” I said, playing devil’s advocate.
“Then you’ll start your own firm and I’ll hire you.”
I smirked. “You have an answer for everything.”
“When I want something, I find an answer.”
My heart was both rejoicing and breaking. I wanted what he was saying he wanted. But I was going to blow it to bits.
“I’m tired.” Andrew wrapped his arms around my legs.
“We’re almost there,” I said.
“I’ll carry you.” Devin barely had the words out before Andrew stood before him with his arms up. Devin picked him up, settling him on his hip.
“I have a book of airplanes. Want to see it?” Andrew asked, looking Devin in the face. I wondered if Devin would see the resemblance. How long would it take him to figure out Andrew was his?
“Yes, I would.”
“We have to be at Grandma and Grandpa’s for dinner soon,” I reminded Andrew.
“You can come to dinner, can’t you Devin,” Andrew asked.
I shook my head. “I’m sure Devin has plans.”
“Trying to get rid of me?” He quirked a brow at me.
“Are you saying you want to meet my parents?” I retorted. Wasn’t that the last thing most men wanted?
He blanched slightly but then said, “Yes. Yes, I do.”
“We need to ask them too,” I said. “We can’t just invite a guest without checking.”
“They’ll say yes.” Andrew patted Devin on the cheek. “They think my mommy needs a boyfriend.”
I coughed. Devin grinned. “Do they now?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Yes, because I don’t have a daddy.”
Devin frowned. “Why not?”
Andrew lay his head on Devin’s shoulder. “He went away.”
Everything inside me stilled as I waited for Devin to put two and two together.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.
“Do you have a daddy?” Andrew asked him.
“Yes.”
“Did you like it?”
“I suppose I did.”
“Did he take you to the park and on airplanes?”
Devin’s face was unreadable as we neared the house. “Not so much. I had a nanny who took us to the park.”
“What’s a nanny?”
“It’s like a babysitter, honey,” I said, noting some sadness in Devin’s expression.
“Like Grandma?”
“Yes, I guess so.”
We reached my building, and Devin continued to carry Andrew as we rode the elevator and we entered my little apartment. I felt self-conscious about our humble abode. It was neat and tidy, and served its purpose, but I knew Devin was used to larger, grander living spaces.
“I’ll get my book,” Andrew said when Devin put him down.
“Do you want a drink or something?” I asked Devin.
He shook his head taking a seat on the couch.
“If you don’t want to stay for dinner, now is the time to tell me or I’m going to call my mom and let her know you’re coming.”
He smirked. “You can’t scare me, Serena.”
Andrew rushed in and climbed into Devin’s lap. “Want to see my favorite one?”
“I do,” Devin said with a wink to me.
I left them alone, going to the little kitchenette. I wanted to be alone to take a breath because I felt like I hadn’t breathed since Devin showed up at the park. If I thought I was playing with fire before, I was damn near burning in the flames now. I peeked around the corner to see Devin and Andrew looking at the book. My heart ached to tell him the truth and for us to overcome all those limits. Surely Devin would protect Andrew from his mother, right?
But would learning the truth change how Devin felt about me? And if so, what would he do in his anger? Ugh. My life had become an endless cycle of a catch-22 that I couldn’t get out of and eventually would blow up in my face.
I texted my mom to ask her if I could bring a guest. She responded with yes and wanted to know who it was. I told her it was a friend, as I knew she’d freak out if she knew a Roarke was about to have dinner at her house.
I cleaned Andrew up and then the three of us headed down to my parents’ apartment.
“My mom is probably going to freak out a little bit when she meets you,” I whispered to Devin. Andrew stood next to him and took his hand.
“Why?”
“You’re a Roarke. A famous prominent New York family.”
He rolled his eyes. “I don’t shit daisies.”
“Umm, you said a bad word,” Andrew said looking up at Devin.
“Sorry. I’m human like everyone else.”
“She’ll also probably try to marry us off, and I know how you feel about marriage,” I said, wanting to make sure he understood what he was getting himself into.
“It all depends on the in-laws,” he said with a cheeky grin.
If that was true, I’d be better off staying away from him, because I knew his parents wouldn’t accept me.
“We’re here, Mom, Dad,” I said opening the door.
“Come meet Devin,” Andrew said running to the kitchen.
“Remember, you asked for this,” I whispered as my father entered the room.
“I’m Graham Moore,” my father said, as he scrutinized Devin even as he extended his hand.
“Devin.”
He didn’t use his last name, which only meant he was concerned about my mother freaking out.
“Hello, I’m Alys—” My mother stopped short when she saw him. “You’re Devin Roarke.”
“I am. It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Moore.” He extended his hand to her.
My mother looked from me to Devin. “I …ah…if I’d know a R
oarke was coming I’d have cooked something—”
Devin waved her comment away with his hand. “Whatever you’re cooking smells delicious. Thank you so much for including me.”
“What brings you to our neck of the city?” My father was still frowning, like he didn’t quite trust Devin.
Devin smiled as he looked at me. “Serena.”
Both my parents’ eyebrows shot up to their hairline. Then my mother got this hopeful look. I glanced at Devin to see if he noticed it. In her mind, we were married already and probably had more kids.
“Remember, I helped with his parents’ anniversary party,” I said.
“Oh, yes, of course. But that’s done, isn’t it?” my father asked.
Devin gave his head a disapproving shake toward me. “The party was a success. Convincing Serena to see me in a non-professional situation has proven more difficult.”
“Oh!” My mother gasped.
I rolled my eyes.
“Serena is a smart woman who has a son to think about,” my father said, maintaining his fatherly duty.
“Andrew is a great kid.” Devin ruffled Andrew’s hair.
“Devin has an airplane and he’s going to take me for a ride, huh Devin?” Andrew tugged on Devin’s hand. Devin winced a bit, probably because it sounded like showing off to have a plane.
“I did say that.”
“Well…let me go get dinner finished,” my mother said, fluttering her hands about. “Honey, why don’t you help me,” she said to me. I knew that meant she was going to grill me.
Then again, that would leave Devin alone with my father who clearly wasn’t sold yet on him. Maybe he’d scare Devin away enough that I didn’t have to worry about his change of heart over relationships.
18
Devin
I meant what I said about being willing to see where this relationship with Serena would go. If over time, this draw I felt to her remained or grew stronger, chances were that I’d want to marry her. With that said, maybe agreeing to meet the parents wasn’t the best idea. My intentions were good in that I wasn’t using her just for sex. But I think she was right in that her mother was already planning our wedding and her father was ready to interrogate me.
At least Andrew was still around. Maybe he’d protect me.
“Want a drink, Devin?” her father asked. Was this a test? Should I say no, so I don’t look like a lush? Do I say yes to be polite?
“An Irish boy like you probably likes whiskey,” he said.
I nodded. “I like whiskey. You must be Irish too.”
He nodded. “Full bred. Alyse too.”
“Am I Irish, Grandpa?” Andrew asked.
“Through your mom, yes.”
I supposed that meant his father wasn’t Irish. I’d tried to push away thoughts of Andrew’s father. It was crazy how unsettling it was to think of another man touching Serena. And clearly, he didn’t respect her as he left her pregnant. What sort of dumb-fuck would do that?
I’d taught her a lot about sex the week I was with her five years ago, but she’d still be naïve about men, I supposed. And someone took advantage of that. I hated the idea of that too, although I could see she loved her son.
I wanted to ask about the boy’s father, but I knew I shouldn’t in front of him.
“What is Irish?” Andrew asked.
“It’s people who are from Ireland, or born from people from Ireland,” Mr. Moore explained, as he handed me a glass of straight whiskey.
“Are you from Ireland?” Andrew asked him.
“No, but my parents were as were your grandmother’s,” he said.
Andrew turned his inquisitive eyes to me. “Are you from Ireland, Devin?”
I shook my head. “No. My grandparents were. I’ve been there though. It’s very pretty.”
“Did you fly in your plane?”
Inwardly I winced, not wanting to flaunt my wealth. I didn’t want Serena’s parents thinking I felt I was somehow better because I had money and family prestige. “Yes. My ancestors started a pub there over a hundred years ago, and my grandfather moved here, opening one here.”
Andrew’s eyes narrowed in curiosity. “What’s ancestor?”
“That’s like a grandfather,” Mr. Moore explained, finishing off his drink.
“Dinner,” his wife called out. He held his hand out to direct me toward their dining table. Their apartment was bigger than Serena’s which felt too small for her and a small boy, but she seemed to make it work. I wondered if her focus on her career was to make more so she could get a larger place. She might do better to start her own business. Maybe we could add event planning to Roarke businesses. We hosted events set up by others all the time. Maybe we should get rid of the middle man. I wondered if Serena would be interested in doing that for us.
“Devin you sit there next to Serena,” she said. Serena smirked at me.
We all sat and Mrs. Moore made a thing out making sure I was served. “It’s just stew—”
“It’s not just stew,” Mr. Moore said annoyed. “It’s the best Irish stew in New York. The Roarke can’t even beat it.”
Mrs. Moore looked horrified. “Now honey, you know the Roarke has very good food.”
“I love Irish stew,” I said. “The Roarke doesn’t serve it anymore.” It was a change my mother influenced years ago when she decided stew was too low class for the clientele that the Roarke served. In fact, much of what the Roarke served could be best called Irish-ish, because it wasn’t truly authentic anymore.
“See, Alyse, the boy likes stew.”
I took the bread Serena offered me. “Can I dunk?” I whispered to her. My mother would be horrified that I’d dunk my bread into my stew, and I wasn’t sure if that was a snooty rule or not.
“Yes, absolutely,” Mr. Moore said.
I grinned, poking my bread into my bowl and then taking a bite. Delicious flavor of lamb and herbs coated my mouth. I groaned as it teased my taste buds.
“This is fantastic,” I said.
“I use mutton. Most people use lamb now,” Mrs. Moore said, smiling with pride.
“And Guinness,” Serena added.
“It’s wonderful. Really. I usually only have good Irish stew when I get to Ireland. Now I’ll just come here.”
“Come anytime you like, honey,” Mrs. Moore patted my hand.
“Suck up,” Serena whispered next to me.
I gave her a smug smile. Parents usually liked me. I suspected it was the money and family connections, but I could be charming too.
“So, you met through your parents’ anniversary party?” Mr. Moore asked. While Mrs. Moore seemed to like me, I’d yet to earn the respect of her father.
“Yes—” Serena started.
“Actually, I met Serena about five years ago.”
She flinched, giving me the impression, I wasn’t supposed to say anything about our past hook-up.
“Oh?” Her mother said intrigued. “How was that?”
“The St. Patrick's pub crawl.”
Serena closed her eyes, as if she was embarrassed.
“I was smitten and asked her to run away with me.” I grinned at her, enjoying making her squirm a bit.
“Devin is embellishing.” Serena glared at me.
“No, I’m not.” I looked at her parents. “I’m the one you had to talk her out of moving to Europe with.”
Her mother’s eyes widened.
Her father frowned. “When was—”
“Mom, you know if Devin loves this recipe so much, perhaps we can give it to him. He and his sister are looking at opening a club.” She turned to me, her eyes imploring me to shut the fuck up. “Will you be serving food there?”
I was slow on the uptake, but finally said, “We’re still working on the details. I’m all for a traditional pub, but my sister feels they’re a dime a dozen here in New York.”
I studied Serena wondering what I said that was such a big deal. She’d told me they’d been the ones to talk her into sta
ying. Surely, they’d known.
“It seems to me that a Roarke pub would compete well though,” she said.
“What’s a pub?” Andrew said, putting his milk down, after sipping it and getting a milk mustache.
“It’s a type of restaurant and bar. Wipe your mouth, baby,” Serena said.
Mrs. Moore reached over to help Andrew, who turned away. “I can do it.”
“So, what made you return to New York?” Mr. Moore asked me.
“My father was diagnosed with Parkinson’s—”
“We knew that, Graham. It was all over the papers.” Mrs. Moore glared at him. Then she turned to me. “Such a devastating disease. How is he doing?”
“He’s a fighter.”
“So, you’re running things now?” Mr. Moore dunked his bread into the remaining stew juice in his bowl.
“Yes, sir. Mostly. It’s difficult for my father to relinquish control especially since he doesn’t always like my choices.”
Mr. Moore’s eyes narrowed. “Why would that be?”
“Dad, Devin is our guest,” Serena tried to intervene.
“If he’s spending time with my daughter and grandson, I have a right—”
“No. You don’t.”
“Serena,” her mother admonished. “He’s just trying to look out for you, and Graham, butt out.”
“It’s all right,” I said. “I have ideas that my father sees as too new. I want to bring the Roarke and our other establishments into the twenty-first century. He doesn’t agree.”
“Mommy, is my daddy Irish?”
Everyone at the table went silent. Serena stiffened, looking at her parents and then me, before turning her attention to Andrew.
“Let’s talk about that later, okay baby? Have four more bites of stew and then you can have dessert.”
“Devin is Irish like you and Grandpa and Grandma. I want to be Irish too.”
“You are honey, you are.”
I was surprised at Serena’s apparent distress.
“In the end, we’re all Americans,” I said hoping to diffuse the situation.
Andrew seemed to think on it. “Are you an American, Mommy?”
“Yes. We all are.”
He gave a short nod and then scooped up a piece of meat from his stew.
Heart of Hope: Books 1-4 Page 38