“Get your arse on there.”
I’m moving faster than my self-respect should accept, sitting myself on the couch obediently and tucking my feet up under my ass.
“Can I get you anything?” Esther asks, heading out of the lounge. “Dinner?”
Danny pauses a beat, clearly thinking as my eyes bounce between mother and son. “We’ll eat,” he says curtly. “You’ll join us.”
“What?” Esther says what I’m thinking, though I choose not to make a big deal of it.
“You’ll join us,” he repeats, stoic. “Go relax. I’ll take care of it.”
I look at his profile as he studies his mother’s uncertain form, silently wondering what’s changed. My curious stare is concentrated; he must feel it, but I get nothing, no acknowledgement, so I turn my eyes onto Esther. She looks perplexed. “Who will cook?” she asks.
Danny shrugs, as if it’s nothing. “Me.”
I balk. Esther balks. “You will?” she asks.
“No man’s a man unless he takes care of the women in his life.” He says it with absolutely no emotion in his voice. But he doesn’t need it.
Esther tears up, and Danny moves in and takes her in a hug. I swallow to shrink the lump in my throat as Esther melts into him, her body jerking from her quiet sobs.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers into her hair. “For everything.”
“Me too.” She furiously wipes her tears away when he releases her, smiling through her sadness. Then she leaves quietly, and I turn into Danny when he settles on the couch. I see peace reflecting back at me. “What’s changed?”
“Everything,” he murmurs, slipping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me close.
Chapter 27
DANNY
* * *
Forgiveness. It’s a medicine that I’ve only just come to taste. One that I never once entertained trying. Not before now.
Music plays in the background as I sit at the table mindlessly chewing through the pasta dish I cooked, Esther and Rose chatting like I’ve never seen either of them chat. I try to comprehend the drastic change in direction that my life has taken. I’m struggling. I have priorities that I never once thought I’d have. I have a woman I adore. And a mother.
I even have a fucking conscience.
And . . . a heart.
My life isn’t about power anymore. I don’t feel strong. But I feel alive. I’m weak because of Rose, but I feel so alive. Typical, when at this moment in my life, I need to be the strongest.
“Are you finished?”
I look up from my forkful of pasta and find Esther standing, an empty plate in her hand, and Rose watching me as she takes a sip of her wine. Am I finished? I look down at my bowl. My dinner has hardly been touched. But I have no appetite. Not for food. Just for freedom. I rest my fork down and hand her my bowl. “Thank you.”
“You’ve hardly eaten,” Rose says, setting her glass down and pinching the stem. “You should have some more.”
I quirk an interested eyebrow at her, taking my own wine and easing back into my chair. “I asked you to marry me. That’s not a free ticket to nag me.”
Her scowl is adorable. So is Esther’s light chuckle as she carries the dirty dishes to the dishwasher. Rose seals her lips, though the twist of them is evidence that she’s finding it tricky to hold back her retort.
“I didn’t know you could cook,” Esther says from across the room.
“Neither did I,” Rose adds.
“Or me,” I admit. “Life’s full of surprises.” I level Rose with an accusing look. Another adorable scowl. Something stirs within me, and it’s not the need to rush her up to the bedroom. Pushing my chair out, I pat my lap in silent order. Her scowl remains firmly in place as she slowly stands from her seat and leisurely makes her way to me. As soon as she lowers to my thighs, I kiss that scowl away. “Ease off with the dirty looks,” I order, holding her around the waist as she links her arms over my head.
“You’ve made a woman very happy,” she says quietly.
“You’re welcome.”
“I don’t mean me.” She looks across the kitchen to Esther, who’s happily loading the dishwasher. “She has a twinkle in her eye.”
She really does. And she’s humming to herself while she potters around, a certain lightness to her steps. And she looks younger, far nearer her forty-seven years. “And what about you?” I ask, nudging Rose to win back her attention. “Do I make you happy?”
Her eyes are questioning, her smile unsure. “That’s a