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He squeezes my shoulders and bends to kiss the top of my head. “Nonsense. I wanted to give us a moment, to enjoy each other’s company with no distractions. You’ve made several comments in passing that make me think that your husband didn’t cherish you as he should have. I will set that right.”
I’m still such a jumbled mess inside that the mention of Marco threatens to set me off, but after the day I had, I’m not going to let it. Marco Moneta is in my past. Maybe he’s alive or maybe not, but he is no longer my concern.
Moving to take his place on the opposite side of the little table, Tag settles in. His gaze locks with mine, earnest and open. “Would you like some wine before dinner?”
“Yes. That sounds lovely.”
“White or red?”
“I think white tonight, if that’s all right.”
He pours, and I accept the glass, swirling the contents in the wide bowl at the bottom. “A day in the countryside has done you good. You seem much more at peace.”
I sip against the edge of my glass and swallow. “I am. With a little distance and a long conversation with my newfound cousin, Patrick, I was able to put a few things into perspective.”
Tag sits back and sips at his glass. “Anything you want to share?”
“I’m still sorting through it, but I’m closer.”
He takes another sip. “You’ll find not only am I an incredibly patient man, I’m also a good listener.”
“I have no doubt.”
But while I’m not ready to get into all that, I’m happy to tell him about my great aunt and my cousins and the quaint home on the little country property in town. “And my mom’s boyfriend from back in the day will help me find the perfect place to spread her ashes.”
“I’m sure he’s honored to help.”
“I think so. He seemed very moved by the whole thing. If it wasn’t so long ago, I’d say he might still hold a torch for her.”
Cora wheels in a serving cart with two silver heating domes over our plates. “Shall I serve, Sir?”
“Unnecessary, Cora. I’m sure we’ll manage.”
Cora dips her chin and steps back. “I’ll bring coffee and dessert after a while, then.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
When we’re alone again, Tag makes quick work of setting our plates before us. “Ginny came by this afternoon, and I asked her what you fancied trying on the menu. I’m hoping she was paying attention.”
I stare down at the chicken curry with jasmine rice and mango chutney. A long inhale fills my senses with the glorious scent of it, and my stomach growls in appreciation. “It smells delicious.”
I’m still processing the yumminess of my dinner when his words sink in. “Ginny was here? Did she find my mom?”
“Aye, she returned the little urn, your jacket, and your purse, safe and sound. I set them up on your dresser myself. Your purse is a little worse for wear, but the urn is unharmed.”
Tag’s perfect face wavers behind a wall of tears and I lift my linen napkin to my face to pat them dry. “That’s such a relief. Thank you.”
“Of course. It’s my pleasure to reunite the lovely O’Neill ladies once again.”
There’s so much emotion packed into my gratitude that I focus on dinner rather than getting swept away by the kindness of Tag Quinn.
Thankfully, he seems to sense I need a moment, and we set our sights on our meals. The next time I look up, he’s staring with a dazzling smile dancing in his brilliant green eyes.
“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Honestly, it’s the first time in years that a lady at my table has been so consumed by her meal that it was like I wasn’t even in the room.”
I set my cutlery down. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore you. My mind is?—”
