Page 35 of A Dark Mafia Christmas

My tears start flowing. “I can’t, Emmett. It isn’t right.”

“Why don’t you let me worry about that, eh?” He kneels on the floor by the sofa, takes my hand, and slides the ring onto my finger.

It’s so different to his first proposal, the fake one on the roof of his office building, that I start choking on the sweet creamy liquid. Two proposals, and I’m still not getting married.

He takes the cup from my hand and sets it down on the coffee table. “I’m sorry, Mary.”

There goes my heart again…

“Sorry for what?”

“For … everything.”

I want more than this. My heart is going thump-thump inside my chest, waiting for him to take back what he said yesterday, when I already know that he hasn’t changed his mind. He gave me back the ring to keep his granny happy, not because he has suddenly decided that he can’t live without me.

Get real, Mary, for chrissakes.

“It’s fine.”

It’s a million miles from being fucking fine, but I won’t beg him to like me.

“My parents will want to know what happened. I’ll tell them that we had a fight, I said some terrible things, and you didn’t want to spoil their Christmas.”

I blink back tears. He’s only sorry that I ran away and made life more difficult for everyone. I should’ve just stayed here, played the part of the doting fiancée, ate all their food, drank their champagne, and flashed Granny Mary’s engagement ring all over the place. Perhaps Emmett would’ve been happy then.

“Do you think they’ll believe you?”

“I’ll make sure they do. I’ll tell them it was all me, Mary.”

I want to say that itwasall him, but I don’t have the energy.

An image of the man at the bus shelter pops into my head. Was he trying to help? I was too frightened to read the situation, but Emmett threatened to chop his fingers off if he touched me againanyway. A shudder travels down my spine. I’m grateful to be safe and warm, but his reaction was a tad extreme.

I sense that Emmett is about to join his family in the kitchen, but there’s one more thing I need to say first. “You called me your woman. You said: stay away from me and my woman.”

I watch him closely as a lopsided smile appears on his face. “It was a figure of speech, Mary. I was angry.” He stands up. “I’m going to see if Mom needs any help, and then I’ll be back. Don’t move, okay?”

“Okay.”

I follow him with my eyes as he crosses the room. He stops in the doorway and turns around to face me, the same smile still playing on his lips. “No one has ever been more my woman than you, Mary Chrysler.”

He leaves before I can say a word.

“I wantto hand out the presents.”

“No, it’s my job.”

“Boys, you can both do it.” Clare must be so used to the twins’ constant bickering that it no longer fazes her. Perhaps she doesn’t even hear it, tuning it out like she can somehow turn down their volume.

Sinead places a warm hand on my arm. “I’m so sorry we didn’t get you anything, Mary. Blame my son for not warning us that you were coming.”

I smile. “It doesn’t matter. Christmas isn’t about gifts.”

“Yes, it is.” Joseph or Jamie—I can’t tell them apart—frowns at me like I just grew a second head.

Everyone laughs, and I’m glad the attention isn’t on me. I’ve taken up enough of their time today; I just want to melt into the background and watch them from afar.

Their piles of gifts grow, the boys excitedly dumping presents onto people’s laps as they dip back and forth beneath the tree until every gift has found an owner. Then they sit down and tear the paper off two identical gifts. Scooters.

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