Page 31 of The Irishman's Christmas Gamble
The three men did a respectable job of echoing the Gaelic toast before they returned to the discussion of politics she’d interrupted. The exchange was lively because these were intelligent, worldly men, but she couldn’t summon up enough interest to contribute to the debate.
Gavin, of course, noticed her distraction. “Frankie, I fear we’re boring you.”
“Not at all,” she said, before sipping her whiskey. “I came to listen.”
“And drink,” Gavin said, as she refilled her glass for the second time. He was far too astute an observer. She should have avoided him.
“I can drink all of you under the table,” she said. “It’s in my DNA.” There she went with the Irish thing again.
“Didn’t I see you on the news with the new coach of the New York Challenge?” Nathan asked.
The remembered happiness of that day sent a jab of loss through her. “I know Liam from Dublin.”
“I hear good things about him as a coach. I wish him luck.” Luke smiled. “Wrong kind of football, but I won’t hold that against him.”
“He said the same thing about you,” Frankie said.
“What did you think of Suicide Hill?” Nathan asked. “Was it as dangerous as it sounds?”
“Suicide Hill?” Gavin asked.
“That’s what they call the sled run at Riverside Park and 91st,” Nathan explained.
Gavin’s gaze turned to Frankie. His gray-green eyes saw too much. “Frankie Hogan went sledding?”
“I was reliving my childhood in Ireland.” A lie. She’d never once ridden a sled in Finglas.
“Ah, childhood. A dangerous time. No wonder you chose Suicide Hill to relive it on.” Gavin’s voice had turned sardonic.
“Let the lady enjoy her sledding,” Luke said. “Not everyone has such a jaundiced view as you do.
“Because your youth was idyllic. All those picturesque longhorns and bouncy, blond cheerleaders,” Gavin needled.
“I’m no more a poster child for a happy past than you are,” the quarterback said.
Nathan swirled his Scotch in his cut crystal glass. “I suspect that our childhoods brought us to where we are, so maybe we shouldn’t regret them. We certainly can’t change them.”
“I detect the hand of a woman in this sudden philosophical bent,” Gavin said.
The CEO remained unruffled. “Chloe helped me make peace with my father. Now I can move forward.”
“Can you?” Frankie asked, her voice sharp. “Can you leave your past behind?”
She felt the weight of their gazes.
Luke frowned as he considered her question. “You can learn to live with it. Not to let it make your decisions for you.”
“How do you do that?” Frankie asked.
“Face it,” Nathan said. “Understand how it formed you, so you can control your reactions now.”
Gavin made an abrupt gesture with his hand. “Pretty words, but the past can be a slippery beast, slithering out of its cage and winding its coils around you like a boa constrictor.”
He was a writer so it shouldn’t surprise Frankie that he described her feelings so vividly.
“That’s when you reach out.” Luke’s famous icy blue eyes warmed, and Frankie knew he was thinking of the woman he had declared his love for on national television. “The past is tough to handle without an outside perspective.”
“And there you have it.” Gavin lifted his glass high, his eyes flat with cynicism. “Love conquers all.”
Frankie touched her glass to Gavin’s before she swallowed the entire contents, hoping the burn of the liquor would counteract the chill that ran through her.
She loved Liam with every ounce of her being, but even he couldn’t save her from her past.
