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“A lot,” Dierdre says, smiling at me. “That’s what the recipe calls for.A lot. I figure they’ll be hungry when they get back, and I should make sure I have enough for everyone.”
I nod at Ronan’s mother and sip the wine she poured. I can tell she’s doing her best to stay calm for me, and I really appreciate how hard she’s working. But Ronan’s her son, and she’s got to be worried about him just like I am.
“Back when my dad was alive, the family would go on jobs all the time,” I tell her, not really sure why I’m saying it. “I worried a little, but I never really thought my dad would get hurt, you know? He mostly did the planning anyway. It was unusual when he actually went out in the field.”
“It’s a hard thing, watching people you care about put themselves in danger and not being able to do anything about it.”
“Back then, I sort of just put it out of mind, you know? I wasso sureeverything would be okay. Right up until it wasn’t, and I was devastated when it happened. Maybe now I’m just being more realistic.”
Deirdre stops chopping and watches me. She’s got a sad smile, and she leans back in her chair. “You love him,” she says.
I don’t bother trying to deny it. “Yeah, I really do.”
“And he loves you?”
“I think so.” I chew my lip and laugh lightly. “I mean, yes, he loves me too.”
“That’s good, dear. That’s why I invited you over tonight. I remember back when I was young and first married to Ronan’s father, how hard that was whenever he went out on his little jobs late at night. I always wished I had someone around to help take my mind off things.”
I blink a few times as tears threaten. It takes a few seconds to gather myself enough to speak. “Thanks. That means a lot.”
“It’s nothing, dear. I was going to be up and cooking anyway. I like to have something warm and comforting for the boys when they get back from whatever dangerous crap they’re getting into. In my head, I think that if they have something to look forward to, they won’t take as many risks. They’ll want to survive and come home to me. I’ve been doing it for years.”
“That’s a really nice tradition.”
“Good. I’m glad you think so. Maybe you’ll keep it going.”
I raise my eyebrow in surprise. “You’d want me to?”
“Dear, you’re going to marry my son. No, don’t look at me like that, you two love each other. Maybe you don’t realize that it’s forever, but it’s forever. I can see it already.”
I try to picture myself as Ronan’s wife. I see little Irish babies in our future, weekend breakfasts, all his cousins and uncles giving me shit in their good-natured way. I hear laughter, I feel smiles. And all at once, I know she’s right.
I can’t bring myself to answer because I’m honestly surprised at how badly I want to be Ronan’s wife, and Deirdre drops the subject. We talk about light things, easier things, mostly she tells me about the various uncles and aunts and such, and I get a primer on their family history. It’s as detailed and rich as my own family, and I tell her a little bit about my father. That hurts—but it also feels good to share. She seems happy to hear it.
We get a big Irish stew going. It smells incredible, and by the time the front door opens, it’s a little bit past three in the morning and the food’s nearly done. I’m beside myself withworry, and the only thing keeping me sane is Ronan’s mother, and a never-ending glass of wine.
I rush into the living room as soon as I hear that door. Niall’s first inside and he greets me with a smile and a nod. “You good, Val? You look a little flushed. Been hitting the drink?”
“Don’t tease me right now. Where’s Ronan?”
But Niall doesn’t have to answer, because he’s in next.
He’s whole. He’s alive. There’s no blood, no misery. His face is serious, and I can tell whatever happened didn’t feel good, but he’s here. He’s with me.
I throw myself into his arms and kiss him.
He chuckles as he kisses me back. “You good, love?” he asks gently. “You and my mother get along?”
“You have a very good mom, you know that?”
“Yeah, I know, she’s all right.”
A flood of cousins comes in next. Each of them greets me warmly. A few uncles follow them through, and they give me a kiss on the cheek. I don’t remember when it started to feel like this, like I belonged in his house at Ronan’s side, but nobody even flinches to see me holding their boss’s hand and leaning against his side.
I don’t need to ask him what happened. We head into the kitchen, and I spend the next hour pouring drinks, serving meals, and laughing at jokes. Ronan keeps catching me and kissing me, and I swear I don’t go five minutes without him putting a hand on me—my arm, my legs, my hips, my ass at least a few times, which gets a loud laugh from Niall when I swat itaway. The sun rises as the boys eat and drink, winding down from a stressful evening, and I lean against Ronan’s arm fighting off sleep.
“It’s done,” he says, the first time he decides to speak about what happened.
