Page 61 of Puck of the Irish

His lips actually curl up at the edges. “Not even close, actually. He came totellme that he was marrying you and essentially to get my head out of my ass.” I can’t help but huff out a laugh at that and his smile grows ever so slightly before he turns serious once more. “After he left, I grew a bit…introspective, I guess you could say. He made some compelling arguments, I’ll admit. I ended up going through my box of letters from your mom—it’s what I do when I need a bit of grounding, to get lost in the conversations with the love of my life and the greatest friend I ever had—and I found an unopened one. It was from a few months before she died and I somehow missed it. I swear it was like she meant for it to happen, like she hid it until the moment I needed it most…” He shakes himself, a small smile pulling his lips upward. I’ve never heard him talk about mom—or life in general—this way. There’s something different about him I realize now, like I’m seeing him for the first time or like he’s taken his armor completely off for once.

“In it, she told me how unhappy you were in New York and that if I didn’t stop trying to push my own vision of your life on you, one day I would push too far, that I’d push too fucking far and I’d lose you forever and it would be the worst mistake of my life. And as usual, she was right. She thought she would be there to help us find our way through it, of course, but…well, the world is cruel sometimes.”

I swallow hard, my eyes burning with tears now. He clears his throat and takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry, Natalie. I shouldn’t have tried to force this life on you when you so clearly didn’t want it. I had a vision for how I thought your future would be, our future, together, and you know how hard it is for me to let go of a goal once I set my eyes on it. I wouldn’t be here, wouldn’t be the person I am or have the empire we do if I wasn’t this way. But, I shouldn’t have pushed so hard, especially not after you told me it wasn’t what you wanted. And I never should have said those things that day at the house. That was entirely out of line, and I apologize.”

I stare at him, not sure I’m really hearing him right at all.

“What the hell did AJ say to you?” What could possibly have brought this on?

“He reminded me that I have a choice here, and I don’t want to choose to walk away. I don’t want to choose to not have my only daughter in my life. Willow would be disappointed if she was here, but not in you, Natalie. Never you. She’d be beyond disappointed inmeand the way I’ve been acting. I think…” He exhales roughly and rubs the back of his neck. “I think that I’ve been so focused on your future and getting you back at the company because it helped me cope with losing her. Like if I just kept blinders on to everything but the future I was so damned determined to control, then I wouldn’t have to think about what we lost, about how much I miss her every single day. It wouldn’t be real…” His voice cracks at the end and so does my heart. I knew he was hurting but I never realized how much and how alone he was in his grief. I should have known, shouldn’t I? I should have tried harder.

“Dad,” I whisper, tears falling slowly down. He clears his throat and meets my eyes.

“I can’t promise that I’ll do everything right all the time, but I am going to try, Natalie. I promise you I’m going to try if you’re willing to try with me.”

“I…” I dare to let myself believe his words, dare to let myself imagine a life with dad in it without us at each other’s throats over every little thing. I see a future of all of us spending holidays together, of him playing with his grandkids one day, and I want it. It’s all that I’ve ever wanted. “I would really like that, dad.”

He lets out a long, shuddering breath, and the weight of the world seems to have been lifted from his shoulders. He smiles then, a real, soft smile that crinkles the skin around his gray eyes. It’s a smile that I rarely see but that warms my entire heart.

“Well let me see the damn ring,” he says, and I can tell he’s trying very, very hard not to cry. I huff out a laugh and walk forward holding up my hand so he can see the ring. He lets out a low whistle. “I’m impressed.” He meets my eyes again. “I’m impressed with the man, too.”

“He’s a pretty damn good one, shirtless selfies notwithstanding.” He laughs at that, and it’s been so long since I’ve heard him laugh like this that I think I must be dreaming.

“Come here, kiddo.” He holds his arms out and I sink into them, wrapping my dad in a hug, the first real hug we’ve had in too long to remember. I really hope that this is the start to a new beginning for us. And it’s all thanks to AJ. God, if I wasn’t already completely in love with the man, I sure as hell would be now.

As if reading my thoughts, dad adds quietly, “Now, I’m not giving him all of the credit, mind you. I was already trying to find a way to swallow my pride and fix this, but…well, he gets the win for giving me the push I needed.” I laugh lightly and Dad squeezes me so damn tightly. We both hold on for a long, long time. It’s the most cathartic hug in the history of the world, I think.

We eventually pull away and I smile.

“Come on. I want to introduce you to my friends.”

Hours later, AJ and I lay tangled up together in his—our—bed. We’d celebrated both our engagement and St. Patrick’s Dayhard, starting with entirely too much green beer and ending with an accidental flash mob rendition ofFrom Now OnfromThe Greatest Showmanin the middle of downtown. It was epic and the best night of my entire life for so many reasons. I’m engaged to the man I love more than anything in the world. I have amazing friends who have turned into family, who love me and all my crazy choices. I really feel good about the place dad and I are in for the first time in my adult life. No one ended up kidnapped or shot or in the hospital.

Best. Night. Ever.

“So, mom wanted me to invite you on our next Ireland trip before I even told her I was going to propose.” AJ runs his fingers lazily through my hair and I want to purr like a cat.

“Really?” I can’t help but grin. The immediate acceptance and love both of his parents showed me since the very beginning makes my chest clench every time I think about it. They’re seriously amazing and though I wish so badly that my mom was here with me, I’m so grateful that Muriel is already a willing substitute.

“And I was thinking…there’s this castle in Belfast that I’ve always loved…”

“Are we buying a castle now??” I ask with a smile and he huffs out a laugh.

“If you want a castle, baby, I’ll buy you a fucking castle, just say the word. But actually I was thinking it would be a perfect place for a wedding.”

I press myself up onto my elbows and look down at him. He’s so damned handsome that I could cry. His hair is a tousled mess, his lips a touch swollen from our kisses, his five o’clock shadow looking incredibly sexy in the low light. He reaches out and pinches my chin gently between his thumb and forefinger.

“What do you say?”

I know how special Ireland is to him, the deep connection to family that it’s always meant to him, and the fact that he wants to marry me there and make me a part of that makes my chest twist from pure happiness. My lips curl upward.

“I think I could be persuaded to marry my Irish thirst trap in an Irish castle.” He smiles that heartbreakingly perfect smile and shifts his hand, sliding his palm over my cheek and pulling me down to kiss me softly.

“Have I mentioned how fucking lucky I am lately?”

“Hmm, not in the last five minutes, no.” I say with a smirk. He rolls so fast that I can’t even yelp, pinning my body with his. My hands run up his sides and across his lower back, and he makes a low, appreciative sound that rumbles through his chest. He leans down and kisses me slowly, the deep deliberate sweeps of his tongue making my pulse race and my toes curl. His St. Christopher pendant rests gently on my chest, just above my heart, and the cool metal and familiar weight has become a comfort in these months.

“I love you, Natalie Morgan.”

I wrap my hands around his nape, tangling my fingers into his hair.

“I love you more, Anthony Rizzo.”

He kisses me once more and grins against my lips.

“Not possible,” he argues. “But one thing’s for sure: I am one lucky bastard.”

---