Page 19 of Dirty Legacy

“Good, I’m so proud of you. Pick a new one, please, or I’ll do it for you.”

I take the folder and flip it open. Inside is a series of print-outs on high quality paper showing designer jackets, slacks, and shirts. I choose at random and Sinead seems to approve.

She shuffles some pages as the waitress brings over appetizers. Yet again, Sinead has anticipated my needs, which is a goddamn miracle considering we’ve spoken barely a handful of times. The woman has a steel trap of a mind.

“Now, I know you don’t care about the majority of this stuff, but you’re going to sit there and listen anyway. Do you need anything else before I get started?”

I sit back, sipping my drink. “If half my employees were as efficient as you are, I’d be fucking rich.”

“The world would be a better place if there were more of me around, that’s for sure.” She gives me another one of those crinkle-smiles and begins talking about the wedding.

Every detail is covered. Flowers, seating arrangements, decorations, how long the cocktail hour will last, what will be served, everything. Frankly, she should be a damn general, based on these impressive logistics. I give her as much attention as I can manage, but everything seems to trigger my memory of Angie, and it’s like a kick to the throat each time.

When Sinead comments on dresses, I see Angie in a skin-tight outfit, the back pulled up to show her ass.

Sinead shows me plates, and I’m picturing Angie in her little kitchen, sitting on her counter top, tits out, mouth open, legs spread.

Even a mention of music gets me thinking about Angie’s hips jerking to a rhythm as she rides me, again and again, nearing completion⁠—

I’m a bastard and I know it.

But Sinead either doesn’t notice or she doesn’t care. She continues to talk about the wedding while I picture another woman the whole time. And a part of me wonders who Sinead is thinking about. There’s no way in hell she wants me to stand up there as the groom; there’s got to be someone she’d rather kiss and spend her life with. We don’t talk about that though, because what’s the point?

This is our future. I can keep obsessing over my angel, or I can delete those three photos and move the fuck on.

“I appreciate you indulging me.” Sinead gathers her things after an hour is finished. Neither of us has a full meal. Instead, it’s mostly drinks. “My father says I’m wasting my time. He says you’re a man, after all, but I want you to be informed. And if you have any opinions⁠—“

“I’ll keep them to myself, where they belong.”

She laughs and touches my arm as we leave the restaurant together. “I don’t want it to be like that. We’re partners, right? Yes, I understand that I am doing the vast majority of this wedding, but I’ll listen if there really is something you care about.”

Guilt smashes into me. Sinead is kind. After all this, after my lack of interest, my one-word answers, my half-attention, she’s still trying. Maybe because she’s not stupid and realizes we’d better make this work.

While I’m still resisting.

“I appreciate that,” I say honestly as we linger out front. “I’m being awful about this, I know.”

“It’s fine. Honestly, most of this stuff—“ She lifts her fancy dossier. “I’ve had it since I was twelve.”

“I believe it.”

“You know, Connor, we don’t have to fall in love.” The way she says it so simply sends a jolt of pain into my chest. “I don’t harbor any illusions about that. But at the very least we can be civil with each other. We’re going to be married, right? We’re going to make a family.”

That pain turns to a sick horror.

Goddamn children.

I know what’s expected of me. She clearly does too. Speaking our vows is one thing, but the only way to build a lasting alliance is through blood, and blood means babies. Sinead is already thinking about carrying my offspring and she’s clearly resigned herself to our situation.

The least I can do is try to be in this with her.

“You’re right.” I take her hand. It’s smooth and warm. I’m surprised by the smile she gives me. It’s genuine and she twines her fingers through mine. “Look, I know I’ve been a piece of shit about this process, but I’m here with you. We can be more than civil.”

Her eyebrows arch like she’s sharing a joke. “Are you flirting with me?”

“You’d know it if I were.”

Her other hand touches my chest. “Maybe try it sometime. Like I said, we’re going to be married.” Her palm lingers over my beating heart, and god damn, she’s such a gorgeous woman. Any man would kill to have her like this.