Page 140 of On The Rocks

She patted my hand. “I’m not making excuses for my son, Maeve—he knows right from wrong—but it just goes to show how we’re all products of our environments in some ways.”

Holding my cup to my mouth, I took a sip of tea, peering at Ma over the rim. “You’re right, Maureen. It doesn’t excuse Callum keeping important stuff from me, but it does explain a few things. I thought he lied because he didn’t trust me or didit as a way to undermine me. At least I know now that’s not the case.”

“He hurt you,” she bit out. “Don’t make light of how that made you feel.”

“I know.” I smiled flatly. “But he didn’t set out to hurt me or do it with bad intentions. Something inhimmade him lie, not something inme. That’s the difference.”

She nodded understandingly.

Placing my cup gently on the table, I wondered how I’d broach the next subject.

When I threw Callum out, I didn’t think of how it would involve everybody around us. I was so glad and grateful for the support of my friends and his family, but I never wanted him to be ostracized by them. It was Christmas, he’d be alone, and it didn’t sit right with me.

“Ask Callum to dinner,” I urged softly.

She cocked a determined eyebrow. “No.”

“Mam,” I murmured. “It’s Christmas. Ask him to dinner.”

Her lips pursed, and she stuck her nose in the air. “I’ll think about it.”

Biting back my smile, I quietly sipped my tea, allowing Maureen time to let the idea sink in.

There was no denying Callum had pissed me off, but I didn’t want anybody suffering for it, even him. I adored Callum and always would, and we would always be family, even if we weren’t together.

As much as I still had to work through what happened between us and needed time, it was Christmas Day, and if losing my parents had taught me one thing in life, it was that holding onto family was important.

Maureen calledCallum and asked him to dinner, but he had to decline. He explained how he’d already made arrangements to open the Shamrock for a few hours and wouldn’t have time to come here, eat, and get back to the bar.

I didn’t know why a wave of disappointment washed over me. Callum not coming was probably for the best. But still, being there with his family without him didn’t feel right.

I was desperate to see him, but apart from the night my friends made me go to the bar, I’d resisted his pull. It terrified me that all it would take was one cocky grin, and I wouldn’t be able to leave. But this was different. I wasn’t a bitch, and Callum needed somebody, too.

So, I made a decision.

“You sure you wanna do this?” Tadhg asked.

I stared out the windshield at the bar and inclined my head. “Yeah.”

Tadhg opened the car door and went to the trunk while I got out of his car and reached into the back seat for the bag loaded with containers full of steaming hot food. Then, we picked our way over the icy ground toward the bar, where T opened the door and ushered me inside into the warm.

The lights were low, and Christmas music played softly through the stereo system. Two men sat on stools at the bar, talking to Callum, while two others lounged at one of the tables off to the side.

Callum’s eyes passed over me, and he did a quick double-take. A bright grin split his face, and he leaned forward, elbows to the bar, calling out, “This is a nice surprise.”

My stare swept over him, and my heart dipped.

He looked good but seemed tired. The slight thinness in his face indicated he’d lost a little weight.

I held the bags up. “We were worried you’d starve to death. I know what a terrible cook you are.”

He chuckled. “Come show me what you’ve got.”

“I think there’s enough for everyone if we’re careful,” I announced. “Your ma packed enough food to feed us for a week. The turkey was humungous, and she baked a massive honey roast ham, too.” I dumped the bags on the bar and sat on a stool. “There’s roast potatoes and mash, brussels sprouts, parsnips, carrots, and peas. She also did some homemade sausage stuffing and thick turkey gravy.”

A squeak left the throat of an elderly gentleman who sat at the bar, and I smiled, thrusting my hand toward him. “Hi! I’m Maeve. Would you like to join us for Christmas dinner?” I glanced around the room and raised my voice to include everybody. “We can make it stretch.”

He took my hand and shook it eagerly, replying in a thick Southern drawl, “Well, there’s an offer I can’t refuse. It’s not every day a pretty redhead asks me to join her to eat.” He took his cap off, revealing a head full of tightly curled grey hair, and bent forward in a theatrical low bow. “Ezra Jones. At your service.”

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