Page 52 of A Dark Mafia Christmas

“Ugh, guys, I’m standing right here.” Fianna’s voice interrupts us.

This is how it is when we’re together; it’s as if no one else exists in the world but us, and I can’t wait to include our babies in our bubble.

“It’s okay, Emmett is keeping his distance.” I flash him a mock warning glance and he raises his hands, palms facing outward, in surrender. “Nothing is going to spoil this evening.”

“Thank fuck for that.” Fianna inhales deeply. “I mean giving birth in one of the rooms would be publicity, but someone will have to clean that mess up.”

I laugh, and Emmett grimaces. “On that note,” he says, “I’ll go check on the food.”

For the first few months of the year, Emmett divided his time equally between Ireland and New York much to his mom’s joy. Sinead should’ve had a whole Brady Bunch of kids, but she had a medical condition that brought about early menopause shortly after Emmett was born, so he literally got her undivided love and attention his whole life. She’s going to be an amazing granny to our children.

Emmett moved back home to Ireland permanently when we discovered that I was pregnant. I was more shocked than he was—my cycle had never been regular, and it didn’t even occur to me that I might be carrying his baby when I was a couple of months late. Even with the nausea in the mornings that destroyed my love of a peaceful early-morning coffee while looking out on the waterfall.

We’re staying at the family home for now until our own home is built. Sinead cried when we told her that we’d be moving into our own place when it’s ready, until we pointed out that she’ll be able to see it from the conservatory window. She has already figured out that our children will be able to run across to granny’s house after school for homemade cookies and milk and is planning their first trip to Lapland for Christmas as soon as they’re old enough to appreciate it.

They are the family I always dreamed of, and I wake up every morning feeling like the luckiest woman alive.

A 4x4 pulls up outside the hotel and Sinead and Patrick climb out, closely followed by Fianna’s parents, Erin and Sean. Clare and Ciaran pull up behind them on the driveway—they arranged babysitters for this evening, afraid that the twins would break something or spill juice on the carpets before the first guests even check in.

Sinead hurries over to me, kisses my cheek, and holds me at arm’s length, eyes narrowed. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.” I smile. “No twinges, no pains. I feel … amazing.”

“I can vouch for that.” Fianna joins us. “I had to force her to sit down earlier. I found her on her hands and knees fitting mousehole decals to the baseboards in the Christmas room.”

“I couldn’t resist them when I found them in that new shop in Laragh yesterday. They’re so cute.” I realize that Sinead is still watching me closely. “Don’t worry, I haven’t been overdoing it.”

“You were in the nursery until late last night.”

“I found some decals for the babies’ room too.” I hesitate. “I know they’ll sleep in our room for a while, but I just wanted to get it finished.”

“Your belly has dropped.” Sinead looks around for Clare and Erin who come straight over. “Do you think she has dropped?”

They both eye my belly critically while a blush creeps steadily across my face.

“Aye.” Clare places a hand on my belly.

“She’s been nesting too,” Sinead adds.

“Don’t worry, Mary.” Erin smiles. “We’ll keep an eye on you. We’ve all had babies, so we know what we’re doing.”

Patrick walks around the women and places an arm around my waist. “Come with me, Mary. My granddaughters will come out when they’re ready.”

We wander through to the dining room where the table is covered with canapés and silver champagne buckets. Patrick hands me over to Emmett, the O’Hara men protecting the future generation.

“Everything okay?” Emmett’s eyes instinctively drop to my swollen belly too.

“I’m fine. No need to fuss.”

Just then, I get a twinge that starts somewhere deep and low inside me and grows, my belly becoming hard as rock. It keeps growing, blocking out my surroundings and forcing me to breathe deeply while I grip the back of a seat.

“Mary?” Emmett’s clear blue eyes are filled with concern.

I blink the room back into focus. “It’s fine. Braxton Hicks contraction.”

He pulls out a seat and eases me into it. Suddenly, the realization that I have to get these babies out sneaks up on me, and my eyes fill with tears.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” He kneels in front of me the way he did the day he proposed in the same room although it isn’t recognizable now.

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