This Life 1

by Cara Dee

  Oh, she’d see. I deserved a fucking medal for sticking to my guns, though once we were married, all bets were off. Then I’d see about knocking her up too. Someway, somehow.

  “I miss driving.” I drummed my fingers along the armrest in the back seat and looked out at the shoppers on Market Street. I bet they could drive whenever they wanted to.

  “You drove yesterday.” Kellan frowned at me in the rearview and stopped at a light.

  “Yeah, but now I can’t,” I argued. With only a few days before the wedding, we’d made the decision that no one involved on Saturday should travel alone or be in charge of their own safety. Unfortunately, Pop had told me that included me. So Kellan was now my driver, and my Aston was resting in the garage at home.

  My firm’s new vehicles had arrived, and the drivers sure enjoyed the armored limos.

  “All right, we’re here, you whiny fuck.” Kellan pulled over at the valet and rolled down his window. “Oi, sir. We’re just picking something up.”

  He got out and opened the door for me, and I headed straight inside my jeweler’s shop.

  “Mr. O’Shea!” Old Harry broke out his best grin upon seeing me, and I shook his hand and glanced around his sparsely decorated store. Only a handful of displays stood against the red-painted walls, each one with spotlights aimed at big rocks, one bigger than the next.

  “How are you, my friend?” I asked.

  “Good, good, all good. I’ve got your items ready in the back. Just give me one second.”

  I leaned against the glass counter and eyed the diamonds and sapphires and rubies. Man, it made my fingers itch.

  Kellan joined me at my side. “Your firm does security here, right?”

  “Aye.” I wasn’t gonna do anything here, though. Harry gave us a discount, and my mother would have my ass. “Did you hear about the gig yesterday?” I spoke under my breath. “Almost made me wanna tag along.”

  Work continued even in difficult times, and we always had something going on. Last night, four of my boys had installed an alarm system in the middle of a family’s move to their new estate, and they’d walked away with collectibles and an ugly brooch worth a million.

  If the family eventually noticed the pieces gone missing, they would do what they all did: blame the movers.

  Kellan let out a low whistle after hearing the details. “Innit risky to pull that off while they’re on the scene officially?”

  Yeah, but we didn’t do that often. Most of the time, installing security systems just meant we had the means to shut them off too, which could be done whenever. Eric loved to tamper with footage.

  “They deemed it safe this time.” I closed the subject as Harry returned with my order. One of the boxes was weirdly big for holding just a wedding band.

  “Your lovely bride’s ring.” He retrieved the velvet box from its wrapping and opened it, revealing a thin platinum band that would go with Emilia’s engagement ring. There were tiny diamonds all around it, and an inscription on the inside where we’d put our initials and the wedding date.

  “Looks perfect. What’s the story with mine?” I jerked my chin at the larger box. While it’d fit in my hand, it wouldn’t look very good in my pocket.

  “Ah, I trust Ms. Porter told you…?” He looked half confused, and he removed the white wrapping—then stopped. Because he literally couldn’t open the actual ring box.

  “Is that a code lock?” Kellan leaned closer.

  I scratched my eyebrow. “What exactly was my fiancée supposed to tell me?”

  I swear to God, baby.

  It wasn’t merely a ring box. It was a tiny-ass safe that required a four-digit code.

  “She didn’t want you to see the inscription in your ring,” Harry explained. “She didn’t tell you?”

  “No.” I didn’t know whether to grin, send her flowers, or shake her. For a man who hated being blindsided, I had a stupid love for having her keep me on my toes. She succeeded every time, leaving me to deal with this…this bullshit. I was torn, yet falling harder every day, it seemed. “I reckon you don’t have access to the code.”

  “I’m afraid not, sir. I’d need Ms. Porter’s permission, and she would have to come in.”

  Great.

  I dismissed it and pulled out my wallet. “I need a little something for my parents too.”

  “Right away, sir. Last time Mrs. O’Shea was in, she did look at these quite a bit.” He carefully slid out a pair of amethyst earrings from the displays under the glass top.

  “Those are good,” I said. “Pair of cuff links for my pop, and I’ll be set.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Kellan clapped me on the back. “I’ll get the car ready, and you know we can have that safe open in twenty minutes.”

  Yeah, and I also knew better. I’d let Emilia have this one. I had bigger, more pregnant fish to fry.

  Half an hour later, we picked up Emilia at home, and at the sight of her excited expression, I decided not to mention the rings.

  All the way to the airport, she talked animatedly about her final fitting, how much she liked her dress, and how beautiful the bridesmaids would be, each one with a dress matching…something; I tuned out, but there was a mention of the colors of the bouquet.

  I nodded and commented in all the right places. First of all, I wouldn’t even see the bridesmaids on Saturday—hell, I barely knew who they were. Secondly, I was betting they’d served champagne at the fitting.

  “You’re a little flushed, princess.” I pinched her cheek.

  She batted me away and grinned without a care. “I had bubbly.”

  “You had bubbly,” I repeated with a laugh. “I’ll say.” Draping an arm around her shoulders, I leaned down and nuzzled her neck. Her skin was so soft and bitable. “You know what I wanna talk about?”

  “Uh-uh.” She shook her head and put her hand on my thigh.

  “Us. Getting married.” I brushed my thumb over her engagement ring. “Did you think about what I said about our vows?”

  I could admit I was doing this to save myself. On Saturday, I fully expected to be a nervous wreck, and the odds of me either having memorized my own vows or being able to hold a note with them written down—without fucking shaking—weren’t in my favor. Therefore, I’d suggested we pick something to read together. It would make it slightly more interesting than doing only the traditional vows, and I wouldn’t look like an idiot ’cause I’d make Emilia hold the note or whatever.

  “I did.” She smirked, half shy, half proud, and played with my fingers. “I talked to Grace about it, and she said she’s gonna send us some short prayers we can go through. Is that okay?”

  “More than okay.” The shorter, the better. I kissed her quickly before straightening in my seat. My hand remained in her lap, and she ghosted her fingers over the spot where I’d wear my own ring in a few days. “I have some bad news, by the way.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  Good timing. We were almost at the airport, and I’d need a hasty exit if this didn’t go well.

  “I gotta shave before the wedding,” I stage-whispered.

  Oh, the fucking horror in her eyes. I wanted to laugh.

  “What? No, but you… I mean, no, you can’t!” she spluttered. “What if you have a baby face?”

  Whoa, lady, harsh. “What the fresh hell—I don’t have a fucking baby face.” I withdrew my hand and scoffed, more insulted than I should’ve been, maybe. Did I have a baby face? No, screw that. My jaw was goddamn cut. My beard, while I liked it, was a trend. “Listen, you’re just gonna have to manage. For all I know, a beard will make me look like a slob in twenty years, and then what am I gonna do with our wedding pictures? Am I supposed to tell our kids I was a homeless person who photobombed your wedding and pushed out the groom?” Perhaps I ranted too heatedly, but fuck it. I pulled out my smokes from the inside of my suit jacket and lit one up.

  “Oh, Finnegan.” In that short little whisper of hers, I heard how close she was to laughing, and it wasn�
��t funny, goddammit. “There’s something I want to tell you, but I have to wait.” See if I cared. I didn’t. “How about you shave tonight or tomorrow? Then you’d have a little bit of scruff on Saturday.”

  I side-eyed her.

  She smiled and pressed her lips to my shoulder, only because she was still struggling to hold back her giggles. I could see it in her eyes.

  “Fine.” I looked away from her again.

  The airport might be the one place where I didn’t feel the necessity to surround myself—or Emilia—with extra eyes and guns. There was always someone watching, and the place was heavily patrolled.

  “We’ll be back within twenty,” I told Kellan, buttoning my suit. Then I extended a hand and helped Emilia out of the car. “I reckon you can just circle around while Emilia and I go in.”

  “You got it,” he replied and coughed. “Later, baby face.”

  I shot him a murderous look. Oh, unclench, mate. Fuck. I blew out a breath and smacked him upside the head, a little harder than intended, and gave him a smirk. “Keep it up, Ford. Keep it up.”

  Emilia was looking away from me, though one had to be blind not to see her shoulders trembling with laughter.

  This day was going bloody well, wasn’t it?

  Hand in hand, Emilia and I headed inside the airport, and the Murrays’ flight had already landed. I suspected the only reason John hadn’t flown private was because he was trying to show he had faith in me. I’d sworn he would be safe, and not showing trust would destroy his chances of earning mine.

  “Hey. I don’t want you to be cranky with me, Finnegan.”

  “I’m not cranky.” I kept watching the screens for the arrivals and did the math. My aunt and uncle weren’t the types of people who got their own luggage, so they would come straight through.

  “Finnegan.”

  “That’s me.”

  She sighed. “Whistler…?”

  Like that was going to work. Remembering how she’d reacted to my playing for her didn’t thaw me up one bit. Not one—okay, maybe one, but sure as hell not two.

  Emilia cranked it up a notch and positioned herself in front of me, and she slipped her hands up my chest and around my neck. Too bad, shortcake, I could see over her. I was marrying a gnome.

  “Those twenty years…?” she said softly, “I want them too. I want us to have everything you mentioned. The kids, the wedding pictures we’ll look back on.”

  I cared more than one bit.

  “Really?” I muttered, sparing her a glance.

  “Really. It’s up to you, Irish boy.” She lifted a finger and smoothed out the spot between my brows. “I’ll honor my vows for as long as you honor yours.”

  Yeah, see, that wasn’t very reassuring, now, was it?

  I was gonna fuck up. I was gonna hurt her.

  Thing was, I could sense her limits by this point. She’d learned fast that we told each other some shitty lies in my family sometimes, and she’d accepted it. She’d adjusted and made it her way too.

  She had patience in spades.

  What she didn’t have was a biological mother, and I couldn’t tell her the truth that would give her one. Not yet. And definitely not before we learned more about the Avellinos. From where I was standing, Elena Avellino wasn’t on our side. She literally slept with the enemy. But to learn that Emilia wanted what I wanted… Fuck, this was gonna blow.

  “I will never intentionally hurt you,” I murmured.

  Never before had I wished I could promise more.

  “Tush!” And never before had Alec’s timing been worse.

  I suppressed a sigh, and Emilia tugged me down for a quick kiss. Then she turned around to greet the Murrays with her best smile.

  “Alec!”

  He flew into her, hugged her hard, and spun her around. The little Casanova was gonna be trouble one day. No one in the family could resist his dimpled grin, fedora, shorts, and suspenders.

  Emilia laughed and demanded he put her down, and it was a sight that drew smiles from everyone, including this cranky fucker.

  Nessa skipped over to me, stealing Alec’s hat on the way, and I pulled her in for a hug.

  “Welcome back, doll.”

  “Thanks. This feels like a second home now.” She smirked up at me, and I chuckled.

  Alec was next, and he hugged me tightly too. That was how he won hearts and could get away with too much. He was affectionate and cared about his family.

  “Good to have you back, cub.” I ruffled his hair and kissed his forehead. Hell, he was taller than Emilia now. It was difficult to reconcile. To me, he was still five.

  “Good to be back, boss.” He smiled crookedly and stole back his fedora from his sister. “Mum said we’re staying in your building.”

  “Aye, we’ll be neighbors.” I cuffed him on the chin.

  He grinned goofily.

  “Finn, me boy!” I heard John call. Oh boy, he’d changed since the last time I saw him. He’d always been a stocky man, almost as tall as me, and now his hairline was receding while his gut was growing.

  Instantly, Emilia was back at my side, her smile more forced.

  I circled a hand around her waist and acknowledged the five or six men surrounding John and Anne. They were dressed casually and keeping their distance, but they weren’t discreet whatsoever, and I bet they felt naked without their guns.

  “Welcome to Philly, sir. It’s an honor.” I shook his hand firmly before stepping forward to kiss Aunt Anne’s cheek. “Lovely as ever, Anne.” I had a feeling her newfound youth came with injections. She’d dyed her hair blond for whatever reason.

  “It’s good to see you, Finn.” She smiled politely.

  “You too. I want you to meet my beautiful fiancée—Emilia Porter. Emilia, my uncle and aunt, John and Anne Murray.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Murray.” Emilia played her part like a pro, never failing to make me proud to be at her side. “I hope you’ll enjoy your stay here.”

  “Oh, she’s a treat, lad,” John murmured to me. “You’ve done well.”

  Fuckin’ hell, Emilia’s filthy liberal ways were rubbing off on me. Before meeting her, I wouldn’t have the urge to tell him I had nothing to do with her being who she was.

  With the greetings out of the way, she and I were separated for a minute while John and I walked ahead toward the exit.

  “Everything’s been set up,” I told him quietly. “Your condo’s on the small side, but I figured you’d rather have three neighbors than one.” Because his security would be staying there.

  “I’m sure it’ll be just fine, son,” he said. “Business tonight, but then I wanna catch up with my family and enjoy the wedding festivities.”

  Patrick was right. John was ready to kiss ass. He hadn’t given a flying fuck about family before.

  Kellan was waiting right outside, bitching with airport security, who wanted him away from the curb.

  “Christ, we’re leaving.” He flipped the guard off behind his back, then circled the car to pop the trunk. “Good to see you again, sir,” he told John. “Finn’s got something for the gentlemen. Their car is arriving in a minute.”

  John peered into the trunk, no doubt seeing the briefcase with handguns. “Ah, good lad. Good, good.” He gestured for his men.

  In the meantime, I opened the car door and let Emilia, Anne, and the kids inside.

  I followed once John was in too, and we each ended up with a twelve-year-old between us.

  I eyed Alec, amused.

  “She’ll be mine one day,” he whispered.

  I pulled his fedora down over his face.

  Chapter 28

  Finnegan O’Shea

  “Is it wrong I’d rather stay at home and have a movie night with Patrick, Sarah, and the twins—oh shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were on the phone.” Emilia returned downstairs while I uncovered the receiver on my phone.

  She wasn’t intruding. Liam was just letting off some steam by ranting about t
he dumb-as-shite crews he’d dealt with in Chicago. Which evidently got more taxing when he was in prison.

  “And on top of it all, I’m gonna miss yer wedding,” he finished irritably.

  “Are you done, dear?” I drawled.

  “Fuck you!”

  I laughed and threw a tie around my neck. “You’ll be out in a couple months, mate.” Leaving the closet, I went downstairs to seek out Emilia. “We’ll throw you a big party.”

  I found her in the kitchen, looking gorgeous in a dark red cocktail dress. She’d mentioned the words chiffon and A-line. I was sure it meant all great things.

  “I love you, Finn,” Liam said, “but you can’t plan a party that tops two big weddings.”

  I exchanged a smile with Emilia and went up to her with my tie. “Sounds like a challenge to me.”

  She fixed my tie for me, adjusting it just so, and smoothed down my shirt. Business meant dark colors, and I’d gone with a standard black suit and a dark blue button-down. Black tie. Emilia seemed amused by it, and she whispered that she used to wonder who’d died whenever I showed up outside her run-down house.

  I smirked and touched her cheek. It was the first time I’d seen her wearing red lipstick, and it was fucking sexy.

  “Are you listenin’ to me, Finn?” Liam asked.

  “No, sorry, I stopped a while ago,” I replied. “It happens automatically when you sound like a woman on the rag.”

  Emilia raised a delicate brow.

  “Don’t start with me,” I whispered. “You’ve infected me with your liberal germs enough for one day.”

  That filled her eyes with laughter, though then she merely snorted and left my ass in the kitchen.

  “I gotta go, Liam.” I interrupted another rant of his. “We’re having dinner with your delightful parents.”

  He scoffed.

  Ironically, one of the O’Shea strongholds in downtown Philly was a restaurant that was Italian, and that was where we took Uncle John and Aunt Anne for dinner. The dinner itself was a prelude of inane bullshit leading up to our sit-down, but it was how we’d done this for decades. Wives had the ability to lower the blood pressure where work was concerned, and their presence reminded us that once the sit-down was over, we still had to suffer through holidays and christenings together because we were family.