Another crash sounded from the far side of the house as Holly sighed. “Ma, I sure hope that wasn’t important.”
“Oh hush, they are angels,” Fiona waved her off as if the eight kids wreaking havoc inside the house was no bother. Her mama surely would have had a heart attack by now.
“Whitney,” Fiona chimed, bringing her out of her perfect holiday haze. “How did you sleep, dear?”
Smiling shyly, she decided that she was going to enjoy today. She was going to take part in the perfect holiday that she had always envisioned. One that she was determined to give her child, and maybe to herself. “Excellent, thank you.”
“I’m so glad to hear,” Fiona smiled, wiping her hands on the apron that she had worn last night, not sure that the woman had even taken it off. “Come, come,” she ushered her into the kitchen. “What can I get you to eat for breakfast?”
“Oh nothing, thank you,” she declined. “I don’t eat breakfast.”
“Probably why she’s so skinny.” Erin smirked slicing another potato, her round belly bumping against the counter. She really was too kind. The baby weight hadn’t come off as quickly as she hoped. She had carried all of Quinn in her belly and bottom, not much of it felt like it had disappeared yet.
“Can I help with anything?” she offered while filling Quinn’s bottle quickly. “Please.”
“No, don’t be silly,” Fiona waved her off.
“Hey,” Holly and Erin both whined. “What are we doing then?”
Smiling, Fiona kissed Quinn on top of the head like it was the most natural thing in the world. The small sentiment making her chest warm.
“It’s because she’s Shayyyyyyyy’s girlfriend,” Holly and Erin both sang before chuckling.
“Oh no, we’re not-”
Waving her off with a potato slicer, Erin shook her head. “Save it. I have known that boy since he was nineteen years old. He has never brought a girl home.”
Agreeing, Holly measured out some milk. “It’s true.”
“Oh no, he just really helped me when I gave birth to Quinn is all,” she smiled quickly, her cheeks feeling flushed as she slipped a bottle into Quinn’s mouth. Looking up, all eyes were on her as Fiona’s hand froze up the turkey’s butt.
“Excuse me?” Fiona asked, her eyebrows shooting up.
Looking between all of them, she was confused. He really hadn’t told his family about her absolutely embarrassing display of stubbornness? Did these people not speak? “Shay,” she continued carefully before clearing her throat. “He got me to the hospital and held my hand when I gave birth to Quinn.”
Erin’s mouth dropped and it seemed to be a popular reaction whenever she told anyone the story. Yes, it was hard to imagine Shay Cunningham and babies, but he wasn’t heartless. Seeing him play with Nicky all night and how good he was with Quinn when she wasn’t getting sick on him, she found him to be quite good with children.
“Oh I’m going to need to hear this story,” Holly insisted, picking up her coffee mug and slipping onto the stool beside her.
“That makes two of us,” Erin agreed, pulling out the chair next to Holly.
After re-telling the story of sitting in a pedicure chair while having contractions, she filled them in on all the events prior to getting lost inside the Mavericks basement. She explained Shay’s horrified face when she informed him what would happen if he didn’t get her to the hospital and him barely being able to fit her inside his tiny sports car. Erin and Holly laughed to the point of tears and Fiona rolled her eyes before laughing herself. Recounting the gruesome details of her birth without medication, Erin and Holly shared their own horror stories with some of the children and suddenly she hadn’t felt so bad. She really hadn’t had anyone to talk to. Chelsea had been so wrapped up in wedded bliss and Liv’s delivery with the girls had been a special case. It felt good to talk to other women. She felt less silly. “Please ladies, let me help with something,” she urged, sitting Quinn in a small seat that Cian had brought up from downstairs.
“What’s your specialty?” Erin asked, plopping the potatoes into a large pot on the stove.
“Ah, well, cornbread and crawfish. Some Cajun gumbo, dirty rice and some sweet pralines,” she ran off with a smile. She loved home cooking. Hadn’t done enough of it lately because she just hadn’t had the time. “Oh, and my great maw maw’s beignets.”
Blinking back at her, they looked confused and for a moment she had almost forgotten where she was. “Banana bread?”
“Ahhh, yes,” Fiona smiled before going back to basting the turkey.
Getting to work on her bread, Whitney laughed beside the other women getting better acquainted with each child that ran through the kitchen. Some of the men sat inside the living room watching football as Rory walked in through the back door.
“Ma!” he barked.
For as closely as they resembled each other, Rory and Shay couldn’t be more different. Rory seemed more aloof than the rest of the brothers. It wasn’t hard to see that he carried a chip on his shoulder and just as her grandmaw had always said he looked like a man who could start an argument in an empty home.
Walking in behind him, Siobhan’s bright hair lit up the kitchen. “Can I help with something?”
Taking the plastic shopping bags from Rory, Fiona shook her head pleasantly taking the cans out of the bag. “I’m okay for now, dear.”
“Umm, I’m good too. Almost done,” Holly nodded, moving her stuffing bowl next to Fiona.
“I’m all done,” Erin dismissed, yelling at one of the kids again.
Turning to her, Siobhan smiled sweetly. She felt bad for her. She was a nice enough girl and really, what was the harm of her helping mix some ingredients. “Sure.”
Checking on her bread one last time, Whitney took the loaf out of the oven. It was perfect. The top a beautiful golden brown and it smelled almost as divine as her great maw maw’s.
“Mmmm,” Holly admired, picking up Maeve. “That smells delicious.”
Thanking her, she turned around as Shay strolled into the kitchen, a pair of grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips. Her breath stumbling, she watched him walk slowly across the kitchen, his blonde hair an unusual mess. He looked sleepy. And comfortable. And delicious.
Wait!
No!
Delicious was the bread she was holding. Shay was, well, he was something as she watched him open the refrigerator door. The muscles in his back tightening, she was able to get a good look at the tattoo between his precisely shaped shoulders, recognizing the trinity symbol with a script between each triangle. Pouring the orange juice into a glass, his body clenched with each smooth move he made before bringing the glass to his lips. Refocusing her attention, she placed her bread down on the cutting board before slicing it into pieces. Her hands shaking a bit, she felt frazzled. Chopping down again, the tip of the knife nicked her finger. “Daggone it,” she hissed, dropping the knife.
“Oh God,” Siobhan gagged loudly beside her, before running off. “I don’t do blood.”
Hissing between her teeth again, Whitney looked across the room as Quinn cried out, small drops of blood beginning to leak off her finger.
“Oh my,” Fiona said, grabbing a dish towel before pulling her hand under the water.
“I’m fine,” she insisted, clearing her throat. “Really.”
What a mess. If she hadn’t been so distracted by Shay’s unsuspecting need to walk around shirtless and barefoot than she would have been just fine.
“Here,” Holly said, ripping off the paper of a Band-Aid. “We have these things on demand in this house.”
“Thank you,” she smiled graciously before hearing Quinn cry again. Adding more pressure to her finger, Fiona fussed and she looked up as Shay took Quinn out of the seat. Holding her up at arm’s length away from himself, the two examined each other and it was all she could do to just watch. Walking around with her, he regarded her while Quinn shoved her fist into her mouth.
“There will be no
repeat of last time, chipmunk,” his eyebrows rose and Quinn giggled as if she knew. “You hear me?”
Thinking back to last time he had held her when she had gotten sick all over him, her cheeks felt warm. The few minutes following that incident had been him standing shirtless inside her kitchen.
“I think she’s hungry,” he said, holding her away from him, his sweatpants seeming to dip lower and she suddenly needed some fresh air. “But then again, she’s always hungry.”
“Give me that baby,” Fiona scolded, taking Quinn from Shay and lifting her up before kissing her big cheeks. Resting her inside her arms, a line of children came bolting through the kitchen.
“Whoa,” Shay grabbed Nicky, halting the others into a pile up before Fiona and Quinn went down. Every muscle in his arms and chest seized along with her breathing. “Watch yourselves.” Nicky jumped on his back as another boy she wasn’t completely sure she had even seen before clung onto his arm as Lena grabbed his leg. Curling his arms up, he pulled the kids towards the sliding door, as they all laughed. Shay was a natural with children and she had a sense that it took a lot more effort for him to just pretend not to relate to kids. He hid it and for the life of her she couldn’t understand why. Turning towards the counter again she picked up a new knife. Luckily the bread had been spared while she was busy getting dizzy over Shay. Every shirtless and sleepy part of him.
Which needed to stop.
Nothing good would come from getting close to Shay. They were from two different worlds and she knew him well enough to know that they surely didn’t want the same things.
Since when did getting too close to Shay even became a concern?
Carefully slicing the last few pieces of bread, she heard the sounds of the door sliding open. A crisp, cool air blowing through the kitchen, she rearranged the slices on the plate just as her great maw maw had taught her. Her body immediately went rigid and she didn’t need to turn around to know that Shay was standing over her shoulder. The mix of heat from his bare skin and the cold air he had brought inside with him, rolled off his body. Peeking up at him, she was taken aback again by his force. He always looked at her like that. Like he was trying to carefully figure her out. Picking up a piece of bread he examined it before popping it into his mouth, his eyes on hers. Lifting a brow, he pushed off the counter leaving the kitchen and she closed her eyes gently. Staying in Shay’s parents’ home was one thing. And spending the holiday with him was another. But allowing all the feelings that he was provoking to cloud her mind was completely and irrevocably unacceptable.
Removing a bottled water from the mini fridge, Shay unscrewed the plastic top taking a long pull. God that felt good.
“Did you set out to get wrecked last night, mate?” Cian asked, taking a pull from his large pint glass. “Or have you become a lush on us?”
Drinking at eleven in the morning may seem odd for most families, but not his. In fact, he never thought about it much growing up. It was just what they did. Looking back at his older brother, the one who had taught him everything from throwing the perfect spiral to tying a slipknot, he looked older than he remembered. Weathered lines ran across his forehead and around his mouth, making the resemblance between him and Pops even stronger.
“Please,” Shay snickered sliding onto the bar stool. But truth be told, the longer he was away, the more he realized that he, in fact, had become a lush. He thought he could hang. Keep up with his brothers and Pops drinking all night long, but he couldn’t. Looking around the room, trophies littered the walls from all four boys growing up. They were his Pop’s pride and joy. Every trophy and medal from peewee football to high school All-American to first grade academic achievement awards.
“Last time I checked I was at forty-nine,” Finn grinned, sliding onto the stool next to him.
“Still three shy of yours truly,” Cian announced, setting up the ring board. The same one his family had hauled all the way to the states with them.
Shaking his head, he was happy to see that some things hadn’t changed. It had always been a competition of who had the most awards on the wall. The wall that had covered their entire living room in the small, two bedroom house growing up. He had the most, but his Pops always liked to keep things fair; knowing that if he opened the storage door behind the bar, he would find the brown box his Pops hid of almost a decade’s worth of more awards.
“These are going to start getting replaced soon, eh?” Pops asked, wrapping his arm around his shoulder. “Time for the next generation to shine.”
He was right.
Nicky was already chomping at the bit to play ball and he knew all his nieces and nephews weren’t too far behind. Damn how time flew.
Coming through the sliding door, Rory dropped down some firewood shucking off his gloves. “Should be good now Pops,” he huffed, sticking his gloves in his back pocket. Watching Rory truck across the room, his limp seemed less prominent than he remembered. Throwing the wood inside the fireplace, his Pops ignited it. Rory took on the brunt of watching over their parents. Cian and Finn were busy with work and the kids and lived nearly an hour away. Rory, however, lived down the street and why he didn’t just move in with their parents, he would never understand, but then again, he did. Rory wouldn’t take a damn thing from him. Least of all, a place to live.
“Ahhh,” Pops smiled, lifting his glass. “A fire, some pints and all ma’ boys.”
Taking another swig of water he concentrated on the game on the television. Whenever he and Rory were in the same room, the tension mounted. It was why he hadn’t been able to get drunk fast enough last night. He had almost been able to forget all the reasons he avoided coming home when they had arrived which he hadn’t expected. Maybe he was too anxious about his family’s reaction, but really he knew that he had been too distracted by Whitney and Quinn. But as soon as Rory had shown up, years of tension and resentment filled the house again. It was suffocating.
“Mornin’ sleeping beauty,” Rory mocked, cracking open a bottle, before checking his watch. “Or afternoon.”
Ignoring him, Shay looked up at the television again. He wasn’t going to engage. Not today. The tension last night had been enough for him to drink himself into a damn near stupor. He was steering clear today.
“You look tired, Hollywood,” Rory leaned against the long cherry wood bar, tossing his beer in front of him between his hands. “What’s wrong? Are the accommodations here not up to par?”
“Come on mate, don’t start,” Finn griped, tapping Rory’s shoulder.
“What?” Rory asked, feigning innocence. “I’m just making sure that things are good enough here for our beloved baby boy is all. Wouldn’t want him to not come back to visit us again.”
“Enough,” his Pops ordered, throwing down the rings on the bar in front of them. “You’re up, baby boy.”
Standing up, he grabbed his water bottle, his eyes not leaving Rory. “Nah, I’m good.”
“Shay,” Cian yelled after him. “Come on.”
He knew his brother hated him and he didn’t blame him. If he were Rory, his two front teeth would have been knocked out by now. He got it. But it didn’t mean that he wanted to be reminded every fucking time he opened his mouth. But then again, that was what coming home consisted of.
Being reminded.
Opening the downstairs door, his mother’s cooking assaulted him the second he entered the kitchen. It smelled so good. Turkey and dressing and he could already smell her pumpkin pie lingering. Grabbing a cube of cheese off of a tray in the kitchen, he popped it into his mouth. Maybe he would take a nap. He was beat up and if he was going to get ragged for sleeping late, he might as well live up to the indulgent loser his brother believed him to be. Passing the living room, he stopped at the sound of Whitney giggling. Looking down at the floor, her long hair hung down her back, as his niece Cassidy sat across from her. Laughing at Whitney dressing up a doll, Cassidy’s blonde curls bounced in her face from laughing.
“Uncle Shay,” Cass
idy’s lisp traveled across the room. “Come plays too.”
Looking over her shoulder, Whitney’s mouth lifted fiddling with a doll. Cassidy’s baby blues, a Cunningham principle trait got him every damn time. Plus, there had been a hell of a lot he had missed out on lately. With Cassidy and everyone else. Walking through the room he pushed down to the floor lying down beside the two of them.
“Here,” Cassidy smiled throwing a doll in front of him. “You can be Ken.”
Picking up the plastic doll he inspected the thing. “What’s so special about Ken?” he asked checking out the guy’s tight pants and pink shirt. He was barely even built and drove a convertible for Christ’s sake. “You need a G.I. Joe,” he scoffed as Cassidy slid into Whitney’s lap.
“Ken is a gentleman, Uncle Shay,” Cassidy explained, laying all of the dolls out in front of them.
“Well a gentleman isn’t going to protect you if he doesn’t even look like he can carry a punch,” Shay explained, wondering how the hell he ended up having a debate with a five year old over a doll. “Plus, he’s too pretty. He’s too neat and tidy and looks like he’d go down with one shove,” Shay shook his head. These were the qualities his niece found vital in a man? Sissy boys instead of army soldiers? He really needed to come around more often.
“Careful there, baby boy,” Whitney grinned eyeing him. “Ken has a striking resemblance to somebody else that I know.” Her brow lifting, she chewed back a smile as Cassidy covered her mouth in a fit of giggles. Whitney’s eyes soft with humor, he felt the all too familiar hit to the gut.
“Me?” he asked, looking at the doll again as Cassidy shook her head laughing, nearly falling over.
Hail Mary (The Mavericks Series) Page 10