took another sip of my orange juice, studying Da.
Finally, he whipped his head to look at me.
“You were right, Aisling.” He put a butter knife streaked with marmalade on the side of his plate. “It was him. The cufflinks. The poisoning. The pictures. Barbara, obviously.”
My heart hurt so much it felt like he ripped it straight out of my chest, breaking a few ribs in the process.
Why, Sam, why?
“Why?” Mother asked tentatively, echoing my thoughts. Da turned to look at her.
“I’ll tell you in a little bit, my sweet, when Aisling leaves for work. I’ll give you the truth. Nothing but the truth. I swear. But first, I want to tell you something.” Da turned back to me.
Smiling and trying my best to appear calm, I waited for more.
“I was wrong in forcing you and Samuel apart. I thought I was doing you a favor. To be honest, I still think I did. Your brothers and I knew you liked him from the moment you saw him, and we wanted someone better for you. You deserved nothing but the best. But if what you want is less than the best, if your heart desires Sam…” he took a deep breath, as if he was about to rip a Band-Aid “…you have my permission to be with him, honey. I will not stand in your way, and I will not pay Sam an extra fee not to touch you. You are free to do as you please. Frankly, it’s been a long time coming, considering you are showing signs of being the smartest person in the family.”
I waited to feel all the feelings I thought I’d associate with this speech.
Relief, happiness, and elation.
But all I could feel was the bitter taste of irony exploding in my mouth.
Because Da’s acceptance of my relationship with Sam was too little too late.
Sam would never be mine. He’d made that perfectly clear. Even if he was open to some sort of a relationship, he wouldn’t offer me love, and I wasn’t going to back down from my demand—it was all or nothing.
Besides, what kind of woman was idiotic enough to be with a man who wished to see her family burn?
Standing up, I excused myself, curtsying like Ms. B had taught me, and gave them the one-on-one time they needed.
“That is very nice of you, Athair, and I appreciate you finally seeing the error in your ways, but I’m afraid it doesn’t matter anymore. I will not be touching Sam, dead or alive. Have a great morning.” I grabbed my coat and dashed out to the freezing cold of winter.
To the lonely arms of heartbreak.
Later that evening, when I came back home, Sailor, Belle, and Persy were waiting for me in my room. They were wearing Christmas-themed pajamas. An unholy amount of takeout food and wine was sprawled on my bed, stinking up the place.
Merde. Christmas was only a few days away. How did it slip my mind?
We hadn’t made any plans together, so I was caught off-guard by the spontaneous meet-up, but after a long day at work, I couldn’t exactly be mad at them for providing a much-needed distraction.
“Hi?” I dropped my backpack, scanning the three of them huddled in my bed like kids, watching It’s a Wonderful Life, stuffing their faces with maple-covered popcorn.
“Hey, girl! We brought Vietnamese.” Persy drummed chopsticks over takeout boxes, wiggling her brows.
“And good spirits,” Sailor added, showing me exactly what she meant by waving around a bottle of gin. I laughed.
“And sexual innuendos,” Belle murmured around a mouthful of popcorn. “But first take a shower and join us in a pre-Christmas celebration. These bitches didn’t chain their husbands to their babies’ cribs for nothing.” She tossed a matching pajama set my way, and I noticed there was a red lettering on the green PJ’s: 69% Nice.
I scurried to the bathroom and enjoyed a quick but steaming hot shower. When I got out, they were already settling all the food on the floor, including plates and utensils. Belle cracked open a bottle of champagne, leaving the gin unopened behind her back. I frowned.
“Are we celebrating something? Did you finally sell Madame Mayhem?”
Belle was the owner of a nightclub, much different than the one Sam was running. Recently, though, she wanted to sell it and soul-search across the globe. Travel. See things. Taste things. She always went against the grain, always did things her way—independently. Belle shook her head.
“This has nothing to do with me.”
“What’s going on?” I looked