Page 27 of Lucky Strike

“Good morning,” I murmur. “We just got going.”

“Good, because I have an appointment at ten. Liam’s jiu jitsu class starts at eleven.”

Flustered, I check my phone. It’s nearly nine thirty.

The rest of Tuesday goes by in a blur. Liam’s understandably cautious at first, the rapport we established yesterday gone, but that’s okay. A lot of kids need time before letting their guard down. I was that way as a kid, myself. By late afternoon, though, we’re golden. Conlan finds us in Liam’s room, acting out an epic storyline starring his dinosaurs and most of his stuffed animals. His gaze is a warm, tangible thing, but I focus on Liam, playing the part of the goofy stegosaurus who wants to be friends with Liam’s new brachiosaurus, Brax.

“Daddy!” Liam jumps up, throwing himself into his father’s arms. “Hi, Daddy.”

“Hey, buddy,” Conlan says, eyes closed as he snuggles his son. It’s sweet, so sweet my chest aches, and I look away, letting them have their moment. “Were you a good boy for Bria today?”

“Yes! We had French toast for breakfast?—”

“Again?”

“Yes! And we went to jiu jitsu and we went for a walk and then we watched a Natch-ah-nell Gee-graphic movie about dinosaurs and then I had to take a nap, and Dad I hate naps. And then we had grilled cheeses and then we made a puzzle, the new one, remember the Jurassic Park one from Uncle Tristan? And then we played dinosaurs.” Liam takes a big breath and rushes back to our play scene. “Wanna play, Daddy?”

“In a little while, Liam. I just got home.” Conlan smiles a bit, eyes darting to me. “Everything went okay, then?”

“We had a great day,” I assure him, nodding. Liam’s already back in his imagined world, on his belly as he whispers to himself.

“Good. We usually eat around six thirty.” Clearing his throat, he steps back out of the room. “I’ll be in my office.”

I sink into my new role over the next few days, despite Conlan treating me like a stranger he tolerates instead of one of his sister’s best friends … a friend he used to tease and kiss and confide in. A friend who, for a few wonderful months, was his girlfriend. Thankfully, he’s rarely around, either at his firm downtown or locked away in his home office. I tell myself it’s better this way. I can’t feel the absence of his warmth when he’s not around to withhold it.

Needing solo time before Liam awakes, I’m up early most mornings. I do yoga in my room then get dressed and have coffee with Nola in the kitchen. Sometimes we chat, sometimes she does a crossword while I read, Bacon and Shelby warming our feet under the table. At some point, Conlan always comes back from the gym and Nola insists on making him coffee while we ignore each other. The house begins to feel more like home, and less like anArchitectural Digestspread.

I don’t know when I’ll be able to start grad school at this point, but I have a good job and a place to stay. I can pay my bills and send money home to Ma and Grammy. Right now, that’s enough.

8.Lucky

Now

Istarted boxing in Belfast, at a no-frills gym owned by a friend of a friend. Crewing and hockey kept me fit in high school, but boxing elevated me to new heights. Physically. Mentally. I liked the discipline of it, the brutality. You couldn’t zone out during a fight. You couldn’t fuck up, else your nose or your ribs paid the price.

I liked the camaraderie, too. I might’ve been an American, but most everyone there knew my family. They treated me like one of their own.

When I got back to Boston, my brother took me to Callaghan’s, his spot in Southie. It’d been a boxing gym for decades, but the owner’s son had recently expanded into mixed martial arts. Tristan had been wrestling and competing in Brazilian jiu jitsu since we were kids, and by college he’d evolved into MMA. He spent his days at Callaghan’s, training, fighting and even teaching. He could fight professionally, traveling and getting paid big bucks, but he’s never done it for the money—we’ve always had more than enough of that. Tristan just does it because he loves it. Besides, he likes to keep it local “for the family.”

By the time the sun comes up Monday morning, I’ve made my morning pilgrimage to Callaghan’s and back. Shelby and Bacon followme from the bathroom to my bedroom, watching as I get dressed. “Ready?” I ask, smiling as their ears quirk in tandem.

Quiet murmurs drift from Liam’s room as the dogs and I make our way down the hallway. I glance at my watch, a little surprised. Usually he’s up by now, holding court in the kitchen and demanding something ridiculous for breakfast. Affection blooms in my chest. I grew up in a tight-knit family. I’d kill for Tristan and Maeve. For my parents.

But none of that comes close to the way I feel about Liam. The first time I held him, it was like I’d died and been reborn, all in the space of a millisecond. I’m always thinking about him, even when I’m thinking about something else. I hate being away from him every day, but I do what I do for him. For my family. Like my father did for us, what he’d still be doing if he wasn’t dealing with heart disease.

I push the thought from my mind, not wanting it to mess with my mood, and stop outside Liam’s door. Bria’s in there, sitting on the side of the bed as she rubs his back. Beautiful Bria, first girl I ever had real feelings for. Early morning light streams through the open curtains, illuminating her profile. The curve of her nose, her lush, full lips. The curls that have escaped her thick braid.

I can’t make out what she’s saying, but whatever it is must appeal to Liam because he throws himself into her arms with a roar. A dinosaur roar, probably. He’s obsessed with them. Maybe with Bria, too, by the looks of things. I’m not sure how I feel about that. Of course, I want him to have people in his life he’s comfortable with—people who put him first, who protect him and love him. People like my family. But Tristan and Maeve work full time and our parents won’t be around forever. Liam’s my responsibility—not theirs. No matter how much they love him.

Still, bringing someone else on, especially someone that isn’t blood, hasn’t been easy for me. The nature of what I do requires a degree of privacy that might seem excessive to some, and there just aren’t many people I trust. Deep down, though, I know I can trust Bria to keep her mouth shut. And with Liam’s safety. I just don’t know if I can trust her with his little heart, which he seems to be offering up after just one week. Like father, like son, I guess. She better stick around.

Liam scrambles to his feet with another roar and Bria steadies him, saving him from the tangle of blankets around his legs. “Oh good,you’re up,” she says with a chuckle. “Let’s have oatmeal with peaches for breakfast. Or do you want eggs and toast?”

“Eggs!” He jumps on the bed. “And toast! With jelly! And peaches!”

Smiling, I duck out of the room before I interrupt their morning routine. I need food, and another cup of coffee.

Tristan sits back,one leg over the other in a figure four as he lounges on the couch in my office, looking over a proposal the Laurent family sent this morning. Mom’s Nantucket winery is wildly successful, known for its maritime vineyards and award-winningVidal BlancandCayuga. My parents always loved visiting Laurent’s during trips to Nantucket, so when they learned that the owners were selling, they made an extravagant offer no one could compete with.

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