Page 128 of On The Rocks

“She should’ve kept her mouth shut,” he muttered. “She’s always lurking and listening to my business. I should’ve known she’d catch a clue about all of this; it’s not like we were discreet. Look, I’ll get the deeds to the bar changed into your name and courier them to you, then you can?—”

I rounded on him. “You think I give a fuck about the bar?” I pointed at the door. “My wife’s fucking devastated because of what we did. You and my da started a chain of events and now we’re all suffering for it. You couldn’t fucking help yourselves, could ya? Always interfering.”

“She’ll come around,” Patrick assured me. “You just gotta man up and show her who’s boss.”

“Sweet Jesus,” I muttered frustratedly. “When will you get it through your head that I’m not you, and I’m certainly not my da.”

“You’re a Doyle. And Lorcan was, too.”

I let out a humorless laugh. “No, Paddy. I’m an O’Shea, and so was my da. It’s why he left New York. He didn’t want to give his family a life where we all had to look over our shoulders, and neither do I. All I want is Maeve and the rest of my family, then one day—God willing—I want a couple’a kids and to raise them where it’s safe. You keep trying to involve me in shit I’m not interested in having. I’m not yours or Da’s to manipulate, and neither is my wife, so leave us be.”

“I could give you a good life,” he argued. “You’re smart, quick-thinking, and you hold yourself well. The men would respect you—hell, they already do. You’d be the perfect second for Liam. I could make you a very rich man, Callum. You and Maeve would want for nothing.”

“Like Maeve’s da? Did he want for nothing?” I asked, dipping my chin and holding his stare. “Wasn’t her aul fella your second when he died?”

Plan flashed in the back of his eyes, and for the first time ever, Patrick Doyle, the ruthless, hard-man Mafia boss, gave me something of himself. “Yeah, he was,” he croaked. “Grady was my second. Point taken.” He snorted, though there wasn’t a trace of humor in it, and his stare drifted over my shoulder while one side of his mouth tipped up. “Heya, love.”

I craned my neck, the ache in my chest intensifying when I saw Maeve standing at the door with her long sleeves covering her hands, hugging herself.

“I’m ready to go,” she announced in a flat, expressionless tone, her eyes not meeting mine. “Tristan’s just left.”

“Okay, baby,” I murmured, moving toward her and holding my fingers out for her to take.

She looked down at it as if I’d just shit in my hands and clapped. She tossed her hair and walked ahead of me, pausing to stick her head around the living room door. “Bye, Ma, we’re off now.”

Ma came bustling out into the hallway, with Aislynn following close behind. “Come here, love,” she crooned, holding her arms out wide.

Maeve walked into the warmth of her embrace, her chest heaving as she stutter-sighed. “I’m sorry for disrupting your Sunday.”

“We’ll have none of that,” Mam told her indulgently. Her hands went to Maeve’s shoulders, and she held her away slightly, giving her a sympathetic look. “You’ll ring me tonight.” It was more of a statement than a question.

Maeve blinked and nodded.

Ma’s stare came to me and hardened. “You go to the truck, love,” she murmured, her tone turning into a hiss when she continued, “I just need a quick word with my son.”

Heart pounding, I handed Maeve my keys and nervously began chewing the inside of my lip when she took them without even a glance at me.

I had my work cut out, but at least she was coming home instead of refusing to deal with me at all. The thought of not being with my wife, not sitting in the same room with her, and not lying by her side at night made the ache in my chest so intense it took my breath away.

The front door snicked shut softly behind Maeve.

“Ya bloody eejit,” Ma bit out. I looked around just in time to see her open palm jerking upward, and she smacked me hard upside the head. “You’re a cocky little shit you are.”

My hands went to the back of my skull, and I rubbed at the painful sting while the sound of the stinging slap still ricocheted through my ears. “Jesus, Ma,” I protested.

“Trust you to bollocks everything up,” she screeched. “I should’ve known you were up to something. I thought that one of my sons had finally grown up when you announced you were getting wed, but you did it to line your pockets, didn’t ya?” Her head swiveled to face Patrick. “And as for you and Lorcan cooking up your stupid ideas. You should be ashamed of yourselves. That poor, sweet girl’s been crying her heart out for the past thirty minutes because the two men in her life she’s meant to be able to trust the most can’t keep the lies outta their mouths.”

I rubbed the spot on my head where Mam had clipped me. “I’ll make it up to her, Ma. I’ll prove to Maeve she can trust me.”

“You better,” she grated out. “Or a clip around the ear will be the last of your worries.” Her eyes darted back to Patrick. “Now, what’s all this about a loan?”

He had the grace to look sheepish. “I’ve written it off.”

“I bet you have,” she spat. “You’ve written off a loan that probably only existed on paper because it was made up between you and my dead husband to makehim,” she jerked her thumb at me, “get his head out of his arse. Well, you can turn back around, walk inside that study, and write out a letter of intent saying the bar belongs to Callum. Then, I want the deeds back in his name within the week.”

Patrick’s lips twitched, and he nodded.

“Well, get,” Ma ordered. “And you, too, Callum. Go home and see to your poor wife. You’ve got some major groveling to dobecause, after this latest stunt, your marriage is well and truly on the rocks. If I lose my Maeve because of this crap, I’ll make you sorry you were born.”

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