This Life II

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This Life II Page 13

by Dee, Cara


  The twins had only visited once, a couple months ago when they turned thirteen. We’d held a party for them here and ended the evening with a movie night slash sleepover in the living room. It was when we’d bought the two air beds.

  Pop came and went more. He was struggling with grief, and unlike Pat and me, he couldn’t channel it. He couldn’t use it to fuel his anger the way we did. So he was here sometimes, crashing on the couch or sleeping at a nearby hotel, or he was in his flat in Dublin.

  He’d bought a new one. He couldn’t bring himself to go to the house he’d shared with Ma in Killarney.

  “Boss?” Eric stood in the doorway, and I nodded in what’s up as I brought the air beds down from the shelf. “I got a text I’ve been waiting for. I’ll be in the office. You can start eating without me.”

  “All right. Let me know—” I was cut off by someone pounding on the front door, followed by muted laughter and yelling.

  “Open up, Finn!” That was Nessa. “Your favorite people are here!”

  Eric and I exchanged a chuckle, and while he disappeared into the office, I left the air beds on the floor and headed out into the entryway.

  Soon, I was wrapped in two tight hugs from Alec and Nessa, and it made my heart soar to see them so happy. Staying in Ireland—away from their wretched stepmother—was doing them good. They were surrounded by family who checked their attitudes when affection toward adults had somehow become lame; that’d been a fun story at their birthday party in October.

  “Good to see you, doll.” I kissed the top of Nessa’s head once she’d ripped off her beanie. “You too, cub.” I gave Alec another hug and squeezed his shoulder. “You’re getting taller by the fucking minute.” What was he now, five-ten, five-eleven? At least half a foot taller than his sister.

  He smirked crookedly. “Me latest hobby is to put Nessa’s homework on a shelf she can’t reach.”

  I laughed. His accent had become stronger, I noticed. It was endearing—and made me miss Killarney.

  “Because he’s a jerkface,” Ness sang and left the hall. “Emilia! Where are ye?”

  Alec was also eager to greet Emilia, so he darted after his sister and left me alone with Pop.

  He looked tired, but there was a new light in his eyes I hadn’t seen in a long time.

  “How you doin’, old man?”

  “Better.” And it showed. He wrapped his arms around me, and I grinned to myself and patted his back, ending the embrace with a firm squeeze. “Good to see you, son.” He smacked my cheek and smiled. “I’ve decided to move your mother to Killarney.”

  My brows flew up. “Okay…?” I hadn’t seen that topic coming, but now I could tell it’d been a weight on his shoulders. Had that decision made him feel better? It was his choice, though I wished I’d be able to visit her grave more often. We were usually only in Ireland once or twice a year.

  For me, it’d been less than that. I’d only been there twice since I’d gotten out of prison.

  At the end of the day, I could imagine my mother liking Pop’s call. They’d lived there, spent years there, and it was what we all, ultimately, felt was home. A place I wanted to retire to one day.

  “She’d like that.” I gave him a firm nod.

  Pop’s eyes flashed with relief. “I think so too.” Then he took a step closer and lowered his voice. “How are things going with Emilia? I had a friend send me new placebos if you need them.”

  I grinned widely and had to suppress my laughter. Check out my dad. He’d been so against this at first. I’d hounded him for a fucking month before he relented and gave me one blister pack of fake pills. And now… Bless him. He was as desperate as I was. He figured, if Emilia were knocked up, she wouldn’t seek out danger and adrenaline rushes.

  “I’m good throughout December,” I chuckled. “She thinks she’s getting her period soon, though. So, no luck yet. She complained about cramps yesterday.” That was when she’d put her foot down and announced it was time to see a doctor.

  “Ah. Well—” he gave my shoulder a squeeze “—sometimes it takes a minute. You two will bring us beautiful children soon.”

  “That’s what I pray for.” I nodded toward the living room. “Let’s get a drink. Dinner will be ready at seven.”

  “Finn!” Eric hollered.

  I set down my coffee on the table in the living room and kissed Emilia’s temple before excusing myself. It was possible I got off the couch with a grunt that didn’t belong to a man my age. That was how much I’d eaten earlier.

  Heading down the hall, I pushed up the sleeves of my pullover and wondered when dessert would be served. I’d spied a cake in the fridge before we ate, and there was always room for cake.

  Eric was in the office, two of the six screens lit up on the wall, and he nodded at them. “Check this out.” He hadn’t touched his dinner. Emilia had left his plate on the desk. What the fuck was his problem? We didn’t waste fantastic food in this family. “Remember we couldn’t find the birth certificate for Gio’s mother?”

  “Yeah?” I slid my gaze from the food to Eric and sat down next to him.

  “I found his maternal grandmother’s marriage license, though,” Eric replied.

  I focused on the bottom screen. The photocopy of an old Italian certificate introduced us to a Constantia Avellino, which was her maiden name, and we already knew this. She’d married a second cousin or some shit.

  “Now, take a look at this.” Eric changed the top screen to reveal a piece of paper. It was old too. And dated. It looked like a page from an ancient journal. Eric highlighted something written in Italian and zoomed in. “I had Mikey translate it.” The only thing I could decipher was something about a convent and… I squinted at the small, cursive text. Was that a name? “I don’t know who wrote it—this was all we found—but it mentions Beatrice.” The name of Gio’s mother. “She spent five months in a convent the year before she moved to the US. Three years before she gave birth to Gio.”

  I scrubbed a hand over my mouth as it dawned on me. “She had another kid. She had a child out of wedlock.”

  Eric nodded. “Then, go back to Constantia’s marriage license. And don’t focus on their incestuous marriage. What’s her middle name?”

  My eyes flashed to the name automatically, and my stomach dropped.

  Holy fuck.

  Elena.

  Constantia Elena Avellino.

  “I know it’s not proof, but…” He trailed off.

  “Jesus Christ.” I flew up from my chair and ran a hand through my hair.

  Eric spoke again. “We have to consider the possibility that Elena isn’t Gio’s wife. She might be his older sister.”

  And if that was true, Emilia was directly related to Gio. He was her uncle.

  I scanned the documents again, my mind racing to draw conclusions—other conclusions. I didn’t want this to be true. So, what did we know? We knew that old Ennis fucked an Italian woman—kept her as a mistress—back in Chicago. We knew Gio was born from that relationship. We also knew that Ennis later had Uncle John within his marriage—and my mother.

  We knew the Italian mistress was chased out of Chicago, and she returned to Italy—with Gio. And then, at some point, Ennis wanted to know his bastard son. Gio traveled back and forth for years. He’d lived in Chicago permanently for the better part of a decade in his teens and twenties. His mother never came back, though. His mother, Beatrice. Who, it turned out, already had a daughter back home. A girl who might’ve been named after Beatrice’s mother.

  “I want a more direct link,” I said, even though I already believed…

  The pieces connected right before my eyes. For months now, we’d studied the pictures from the Avellino villa. And it wasn’t fucking weird that Gio and Elena never appeared overly affectionate with each other in the photos, because those were the days and customs. My grandfather would, at most, kiss my grandmother on the cheek in public.

  “If Beatrice gave her child up…” I started.

&n
bsp; Eric shrugged. “It’s not unheard of that they either get custody back—or, more likely, she went to the convent to give birth—”

  “Away from her family,” I filled in with a nod. “When she came back, it was like nothing had happened—she’d never been pregnant—and suddenly a close aunt or parent was raising a new kid as their own.”

  History was fucked in the head. We didn’t have to go back very far for that to have been the norm.

  I blew out a heavy breath and scrubbed my hands over my face.

  “Somehow, Elena ended up in the US,” I said tiredly. “It wouldn’t be farfetched to say she went to the US and stayed with Gio. They’re clearly close if they live together.” It made me wonder two things. One, had Ennis known of her existence? Two, was this why we’d noticed the guest room in the Avellino villa? It’d been decorated and had photos on the nightstands as if someone lived there. For all we knew, Gio had his quarters on the second floor, while Elena lived on the third. “Eventually, Elena follows in Mommy Dearest’s footsteps and has a kid she leaves behind.”

  Eric offered a weary glance. “You have to tell, Emilia, boss. Because sooner or later, she’ll find out.”

  “I know.” It looked like I couldn’t postpone it either.

  If there’d been a chance to bury this forever, I probably would have. I knew Emilia loved me, but love wasn’t unconditional in real life. People had limits. I’d already been forgiven for lying to her, and she accepted the white lies where work was involved.

  This…

  This would break her.

  Fuck my life.

  12

  Finnegan O’Shea

  I stuck it out through the weekend. Alec had looked forward to his visit to London, and I didn’t wanna ruin it. Especially since I doubted Christmas would be something to write home about. Would Emilia be able to put a smile on her face for the others? Would she refuse to be in the same room with me?

  As my wife, she couldn’t go wherever she wanted. She couldn’t piss off to the Caribbean like Aunt Anne had done, giving no fucks about John’s whereabouts or how Alec and Ness were doing. Emilia couldn’t join Aunt Viv and their family in Killarney either. Being married to me didn’t only grant her protection; it made her a target that could put the others in our family at risk. She had to stay here with us.

  On Sunday morning, we dressed up for Mass. I buttoned up my charcoal pants as Emilia fixed her hair. She sent me a smile in the mirror of our bathroom. I tucked in my shirt and shrugged on a vest while she put on lip balm. My gaze was glued to her, and she probably mistook my stare for something sinful when she swiped a finger across her bottom lip.

  I was merely soaking it all up. She could be wearing a nice dress, like the green number she had on today, or she could be in workout shorts and one of my tees she’d tied at her hip. She could be flushed and sweaty, or she could be dolled up with perfect makeup. She could be shaking her ass like a dork when she cooked, or she could smile elegantly and slip her hand into mine before we stepped into church.

  She was so fucking beautiful. Graceful, feisty, loving, accepting…

  The chunk of guilt weighed heavier and tightened my stomach.

  When she was done in the bathroom, she came out and helped me with my tie. It was the same dark green color as her dress. She liked it when we matched.

  So did I.

  “So handsome,” she murmured.

  I mustered a faint smile and touched her cheek. “Stunning.”

  Her dark hazel eyes gleamed with amusement. “What did you call us, Philly’s next power couple?”

  I chuckled quietly.

  “There. Perfect.” She smoothed her hand down my chest and tucked my tie underneath my vest. “I love you.”

  “I love you more.” I leaned down and kissed her quickly, and another set of hazel eyes flashed before my closed lids. It made me reel back some, but I managed to compose my expression before Emilia noticed. “Let’s go.”

  A photo of Elena burned in my pocket. Her dimpled grin that she shared with her daughter, those eyes, that hair. Holy fuck, Emilia would never forgive me.

  I despised Elena almost as much as I hated Gio and Uncle John. She didn’t deserve to smile so genuinely in the pictures we’d seen. She’d abandoned her daughter, and yet… Because I had lied, I wasn’t sure Emilia would see Elena’s deceit for what it was. What if she tracked her down once all this had blown over? What if she forgave her mother? Who knew what bullshit excuse Elena would come up with.

  While Emilia took a seat with Pop and Autumn, Eric and I brought the twins up to the altar and took a knee in genuflection in front of the tabernacle.

  It made me smile to see Alec take it seriously, and I watched his lips move with his prayer before I closed my own eyes. I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. My mother’s face appeared in my mind, her soft grins and kind eyes, and I prayed she’d found peace. I prayed for my family and begged for forgiveness for my selfishness because all I craved was the forgiveness of my wife. The need clouded my brain and kept me from expressing gratitude to the power of my faith.

  I asked for patience and promised to repent when I’d found the strength.

  Then I made the Sign of the Cross and stood up. I straightened my suit jacket and waited for the others, Eric and Nessa finishing slightly before Alec. With a hand on his shoulder, I gave him a nod of approval before we joined Emilia and Pop down the aisle.

  It was a beautiful church, but it wasn’t mine. Despite the lit candles, despite the wreaths with red bows at the end of every pew, despite the smiles people greeted one another with, I couldn’t feel the warmth. I missed Father O’Malley and our church in Philly.

  I took my seat next to Emilia and felt her hand on my leg. I gave her hand a squeeze, and she asked if I had any butterscotch today. She was trying to be funny. Had I not been facing my death sentence, I would’ve laughed at her poking at me. As it was, I just barely managed a wink.

  Pop was returning to Ireland with the twins after the service, and Eric was taking Autumn to brunch and a trip to the Disney Store. He knew I was planning on telling Emilia everything, and I was grateful, even though I hoped someone would interrupt with work shit. Fucking hell, I was a coward.

  Mass began, and I threaded my fingers through my wife’s.

  I was going to tell Emilia the second we got back to our flat. If I didn’t, I’d find a reason not to go through with it.

  Ironically, today’s service focused on cleansing our hearts so we could enjoy the holidays with our loved ones.

  Fuck me.

  “We have to talk.” With just four little words, my pulse went through the roof, and I broke out in a cold sweat.

  Heading up the old, rickety elevator had been like walking toward my own execution.

  I could work around the tightest security, put my men and myself at risk, face a fucking gun…no problem. But stand the risk of losing her? I wasn’t sure I could cope.

  Emilia looked up at me, confused, and shrugged out of her coat. “Everything okay? I noticed you’ve been quiet today. The twins will be back soon, baby. Just a week and a half till Christmas.”

  I couldn’t reply. I merely took off my shoes and jacket, then nodded at our bedroom.

  “Should I be nervous?” she asked with a teasing laugh. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold outside, and in another universe, one where I wasn’t a lying scumbag, we’d sit down and cozy it up in front of a fire now. Or prepare lunch together.

  “I have to tell you something.” I swallowed hard and entered our room. She followed, and I closed the door behind us. Fuck. How was I gonna get all the words out? My chest felt tight all of a sudden, and nausea wasn’t far off. “You’re not gonna like it.”

  Worry was etched across her features, accompanied by wariness. “Something’s happened. Is everyone safe? Did someone get hurt—”

  I shook my head minutely. “It’s not—that’s not it. Everyone’s fine.”

  She grew impossibly still, and
hurt was already seeping into her gaze. She clenched her jaw. “What have you done, Finnegan?”

  I blew out a harsh breath and pushed past the rising nausea. “I want you to hear me out—from start to finish. That’s the only thing I ask of you. And—fuck.” I couldn’t ask for her to trust me. She had no reason to. “Look. Once I’ve told you everything, I beg you to believe that I would never use you. As soon as I fell in love with you, I knew you’d always have my loyalty. You’re the love of my life, and it’s…it’s scared me. It still does. For chrissakes, I’m practically obsessed with you, and losing you is the one thing that can bring me to my knees.”

  She was running out of patience, and I was just running my mouth.

  Fuck.

  I ran a hand through my hair, frustrated and goddamn desperate. But I’d dug myself this little hole, and now I had to see if I’d ever get out of it.

  “You’ve stayed loyal to me?” she asked tightly.

  I furrowed my brow. What? “Of course I have. What?” Wait. Did she think I’d done something…? Oh, sweet fucking irony. “Never.” I couldn’t even laugh at it. My throat was closing up. “Christ, no, never. It’s something I’ve kept from you.”

  “Oh.” Some tension left her shoulders, and she sat down on the edge of the bed. “Go on.”

  I swallowed and took a step toward the bed, then quickly changed my mind. I couldn’t sit down for this. Instead, I started pacing, and then I word-vomited. “I gotta start from the beginning,” I told her. “When I was doing my time—I think I had about two years left of my sentence—I began formulating plans for how to get rid of John. It was what kept me focused. And I had countless questions I wanted answered, so I called Aunt Viv. I asked for her help since my parents stayed in Ireland during that time.”

  One glance at Emilia showed me she was back to plain confused. As if she wasn’t expecting anything bad anymore. Or anything too bad.

  “I wanted to know everything. Check every angle, around every corner—I wanted information.” I cleared my throat. “I made a list of Uncle John’s weaknesses and knew the Italians were one of the biggest. So I thought, I’ll dig there. Maybe I’ll find a threat, maybe I’ll find an asset or an ally. I had no expectations—I literally just wanted to know.”

 

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