Page 13 of A Dark Mafia Christmas

I have no choice but to follow.

Before I even set foot inside the kitchen, I can hear the squeals of excitement. Auntie Clare and Auntie Erin are already checking out the ring while my mom busies herself filling the kettle and setting it on top of the stove to boil.

My dad and his brothers Uncle Sean and Uncle Ciaran are playing cards at the huge pine table while the two grannies are seated at the opposite end, a ball of thick creamy wool on Granny Nina’s lap. Fianna is hovering near the women, waiting her turn.I haven’t seen her in almost a year, and she seems to have transformed from a teenager to a woman in my absence.

I’m guessing she’s around Mary’s age, and if Mary is going to bond with anyone, it will be my cousin. Only, I don’t know if that will work in my favor or against me. What if Mary confides in her what’s really going on? Can Fianna be trusted to keep our secret?

My dad is on his feet and pulling me into a bearhug before I’ve barely crossed the threshold. “Congratulations, son. I’ll need to drive into Laragh later to pick up some more booze. Ye could’ve given me a heads-up.”

“Aye, sorry. It was all last minute. I didn’t think.”

“Never mind your dad.” Uncle Sean claps my back with his meaty hands. “You know he’ll stop off at Jake’s and celebrate with a few pints of Guiness while he’s at it.”

Uncle Ciaran shakes my hand warmly. This is how Christmas always looks in our home. Everyone comes to stay until the new year. Everyone is loud, excited, and often drunk, and I usually can’t wait to get back to work once it’s all over.

“Congratulations, Emmett.” The gentle lilting voice belongs to Fianna, standing in front of me, looking up at me with her brother’s eyes. “She’s perfect.”

My gaze instinctively flits towards Mary, who is watching me with bright eyes. I can’t tell if she’s loving or hating the attention because I’m trying to see her through Fianna’s eyes.

My cousin was always the quiet one, but she withdrew into a rigid-backed shell when her brother Oisin died. According to my parents, Fianna went through therapy to help her deal with her grief, but I only ever saw her at Christmas, and it never seemedlike the right time to ask her how she was feeling. Then, I realized that I’d missed the boat. Too much time had passed with no communication, and guilt prevented me from reaching out.

“I’ll have someone on my side when I want to watch cheesy movies,” Fianna says as if reading my mind and diverting the subject.

“No one wants to watch cheesy movies.” Her dad, Uncle Sean, resumes his seat and picks up his card hand.

“I saw you scrolling through the Christmas movie channel last night, Sean.” Mom fills a teapot with boiling water. “You thought no one was watching.”

“Aye, Dad. Don’t bother denying it, I caught it on camera.” Fianna slides her phone from her pocket and waves it at him.

“Fecking hell.” Sean shakes his head, but his grin is wide. “Can no one keep a fecking secret in this house?”

Everyone laughs. I catch Mary’s eye, her expression unfathomable, as the twins come barging into the kitchen, yelling, “Jamie caught a toad. Can we keep it as a pet?”

“Not in here, you can’t.”

Mom is already shooing the boys back towards the door as Granny Mary says, “Fill a bowl with water and let them keep it for a while. They take after their grandpa; he once kept a whole toad family in a bucket when he was a lad.”

While the women are distracted, my dad gestures for me to follow him to his study. Inside, he half fills two crystal tumblers with whiskey and sits behind his desk. I sit opposite him and sip the whiskey, feeling it burn as it goes down.

“Congratulations, son.” Dad’s eyes are moist. “I didn’t think that you were ready to take over from me yet, but I’m proud of you. You’ve had your fun, and now you’ve found a decent Irish girl to settle down with.” Pause. “Does she know?”

This is what I was dreading. I thought I might’ve bought some time with it being Christmas, but my father must be eager to step down and hand over the reins. He’s kept it peaceful between the Irish families for the past twenty years, but it doesn’t mean it’ll stay that way when they learn there’s a new Don at the helm.

Am I ready?

It was inevitable, but I feel like the hole I dug when I proposed to Mary to save her ass is getting tighter, squeezing me into a shape that doesn’t quite fit. This is the way it goes: get married, take over the family helm. It’s the reason I never get involved. I’ve been stalling all these years because the thought of introducing the woman I love to a life of bodyguards, blacked-out windows, and one eye over her shoulder isn’t exactly how I pictured starting married life.

Sure, my mom and my aunties take it in their stride, but they came from similar backgrounds. It’s the life they were born into. I love them for it, but is it what I want for my woman?

My dad watches me closely, sitting back in his seat, one leg crossed over the other.

“No. Mary doesn’t know.”

“Don’t leave it too long, son. The best marriages are built on trust and honesty.”

I smile. Mary and I are fucked then.

“I will tell her.”

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