Page 117 of Broken Blood Ties

Summer has settled into my heart, and I’m fixated. The need to convince her to stay is overwhelming, but the idea of forcing her into something she doesn’t want is just as tormenting.

With a blush on her face, Summer walks in to greet Lizzy. They hug each other, then move to the bar where Oliver is getting everyone a drink before lunch.

Cormac laughs at something Finn says while Aoife runs around the bar to help Oliver put her special cherries in her juice. Hands tucked into my pockets, I sigh. This is right. It feels right. I can suspect it’s because Summer completes the picture; one I’ve been dreaming about for a long time.

A few servers come out and bring traditional dishes, plus mac and cheese and chicken nuggets for Aoife. As people sit down, I watch as Summer takes Aoife’s hand and leads her to a seat, pulling it out and helping her up into it. She then takes the seat next to her.

While I’m sure Lizzy had planned on me sitting at the head of the table as per usual, I gravitate to the chair on the other side of Summer and plant my arse there. Cormac assesses me from across the table, and before I know it, everyone’s seated and dishing their plates full of bacon and cabbage, Shepherd’s pie, soda bread, and more.

Aoife points to the dishes she would like, and Summer forgoes her own plate, scooping macaroni and cheese and several nuggets for her. She even manages to bribe some roasted carrots on her plate.

Finn nudges me, passing the potatoes, and I drop a few on my plate before adding some to Summer’s. I repeat this for several dishes while Summer is busy making sure Aoife is settled.

Something in my chest swells. She’s so good with her. Summer is good with all kids, I knew that seeing her wait with Aoife and how she handled her kids on the field trip. Though, witnessing her nurturing ways withmydaughter makes me want to wrap her in a hug and take care of her.

Conversation kicks up all around, and I take a sip of my whiskey, listening. Summer finally takes a minute while Aoife is munching on nuggets smothered in ketchup to glance at her full plate.

She looks at me, smiling. “You filled my plate? Thanks!” She forks a potato with a carrot and moans when it meets her tongue. I bite my lip, shaking my head, then put my fork down in favor of watching her eat.

Mouth full, she glances back at me. “What?” she says, but it’s muffled.

“Ye’re amazing.”

She chokes, grabbing for her glass of water and chugging it while working the rest of her food down.

“As always your timing is impeccable, Kieran.”

“Probably should’ve waited until ye weren’t mid bite,” I say, grinning at her reddened face.

“Well, you know what they say …” She trails off, biting her lip. I strain toward her, not wanting to miss the next words that come out of her mouth.

“What do they say?”

“Compliments go down easier without food in the way.”

I can’t help it. I laugh. That made no sense whatsoever, but my head whips back and I crack up. It bubbles up from somewhere deep inside me, unrestrained. I can’t hold back, my body shakes, and the more my shoulders bounce, the more joy lightens a weight from my chest. I’m not thinking about how I look or who’s watching—there’s just the simple pleasure of her words in this moment. The initial comment she made seems to have opened the floodgates to something more. It’s not only about her words, but how she makes me feel. So present, so playful, andsoalive. Hell, I think I’m in love with her.

I snap my mouth shut at the thought, and for the second time today everyone is shell-shocked into a stupor, staring at me from around the table. Well, except for Aoife who’s giggling right along with me. Thank goodness I have one person who doesn’t think I’ve lost it.

The rawness of the moment—the feelings spilling over the deep reservoir within. I’m hyperaware of my racing pulse and the silly grin still on my face.

Slowly the awkwardness fades into the background as those around the table go back to eating except for Summer. She places her fork down on her plate and turns toward me.

“So do I get credit for that laugh?”

I lean back, twirling my whiskey glass near the edge of the table. The liquor sloshes up the sides as I let out another tiny chuckle.

“Credit? Ye should get an award. Haven’t laughed that hard in ages.”

Her smile breaks wide into a grin and a piece of hair falls over her eye. Quickly, I reach up and tuck it behind her ear, only for it to fall out again.

“Careful,” she says, “or I might start thinking I’m actually funny.”

I lean over to her. “Who say’s yer not? Ye’ve got a talent for making me feel.”

“Glad to know I can keep you entertained.” She chews at her upper lip and picks at a few flowers on her dress.

“Aye. But ye do more than keep me entertained, love.” I move my hand to her knee and give it a light squeeze. I want to confide in her, tell her how I feel. It’s been years since I’ve felt this way for a woman. But the fear she’ll run away like Laura did keeps me from saying anything more, especially since I know it’s not her plan to stay.

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