by Dee, Cara
“I have my session with Father O’Malley in five minutes,” I answered, stowing away the milk and cereal. “By the way, if you accept any deliveries, don’t look inside the boxes.”
Christmas presents were starting to arrive.
“If I hear something ticking, I’ll know it’s from you,” he joked.
I rolled my eyes and walked out of the kitchen.
I had to have a semblance of normalcy in my life, and it included making plans for a nice Christmas. Autumn had helped me pick out some baby-related gifts for Finnegan. There would be a white onesie that read “Daddy’s Good Luck Charm” and a coffee mug with the words, “I was up till three feeding a hellion.”
I’d picked out a thin gold chain for him, too, with a new charm. He already had St. Christopher, the protector of travelers, but I thought it was time for Joseph to take its place, the patron saint of fatherhood.
The news of my pregnancy had traveled faster than the speed of light, and two people stood out with their reactions. Finnegan, he seemed to grow another foot taller whenever the baby was mentioned. And Sarah… She barely spoke to me.
I’d entertained the idea of keeping the pregnancy a secret until the second trimester.
I got it; I was a moron. Finnegan practically had “I’m gonna be a father!” written across his forehead.
And I secretly adored it.
It was reassuring too. He truly did view all children as blessings, and I’d already seen him with more than one textbook about pregnancy in his hands.
Closing the door behind me in my room, I let out a breath and grabbed my laptop from the foot of the bed.
Whatever Eric had done to it, I didn’t notice. The laptop ran as usual. Finnegan had mentioned something about bouncing locations and protecting the webcam with a…something. Either way, I got comfortable in bed, placing the laptop on my lap over the duvet, and I called Father O’Malley, who answered on the second ring.
His sleepy, warm smile met me on the screen. “Good morning, dear child.”
“Morning.” I smiled back. He was in his cozy little kitchen, and there was a Santa on his coffee mug. He was dressed for work as always, aside from his collar that sat on the kitchen table next to his coffee.
He lit a candle off the screen. “I can’t convince you to join me in a prayer first, can I?”
I chuckled. “Still an atheist here.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled, and he tapped his nose. “You don’t need to believe in God for him to believe in you.” With a smug little grin, he closed his eyes and began his prayer.
I wondered what we’d talk about today. Yesterday had been rough. We’d discussed my mother, a topic that continued to upset me. Mostly because I wasn’t sure there was anything I could do. Nor was I sure I wanted to do anything. I’d called my dad again, and he still wasn’t answering. I wanted him to tell me what he’d kept from me, but other than that… The woman had left me.
“Amen,” Father O’Malley finished and crossed himself. His kitchen counter was right behind him, and he asked me how I was dealing with my morning sickness as he popped two slices of bread into his toaster and poured some cream into his coffee.
It wasn’t until he was spreading butter on his toast that he seemed satisfied with the chitchat. “So, I suppose you want to know what I’d like to talk about today.”
“Something lighter than yesterday, please,” I said jokingly.
He smiled softly. “Friendship. I’d like to discuss the meaning of friendship. For starters anyway.”
Oh dear.
“Forgiveness needs to be pure and heartfelt, Emilia,” he went on. “Finding a way to forgive Finnegan will have to take time.”
“But you think I’ll be able to one day?” I agreed with him that it had to be heartfelt, hence my fear. Because for each day that passed, as the hurt settled and found a place within me, I realized it was the manipulation that’d shattered me the most. Being toyed with by my own husband, the one person I wanted to trust with all my heart, had left a deep scar.
“I do,” Father O’Malley replied. “And I believe friendship might be the key. You see, we know different versions of Finn. The man you’ve come to know has a blurry past that was once all over the news. When you two got engaged so shortly after you met, you still had that…shall we say, less desirable image of him. Which is nothing that can go away overnight, nor can you push it away by sheer will.” He took a sip of his coffee. “The balance has to be restored. He tipped over the edge, where the bad is threatening to outweigh the good.”
That made sense.
I released a breath and nodded, listening.
“Marriage isn’t what it used to be,” he said. “In the past, it was common for a man and a woman to have brief engagements—and they didn’t always know each other well at all. But that was when marriage came with a sense of duty. It had to be practical, and it was viewed as something of a responsibility.” He paused and smiled pensively. “The responsibility is still there. Marriage requires maintenance and hard work, but today… I find the union holier because of the deep connection between husband and wife. Unfortunately, it also makes the bond more fragile. Trust and love can’t be forced, and so, rushed relationships will require more patience. Now is the time for you and Finn to take a step back and mend what’s broken.”
God, I loved listening to him. It was soothing and reassuring. Because unlike Finnegan, I wasn’t resigned or defeated. I wanted us to work out. I just didn’t know how.
“Finnegan believes we’re over,” I admitted.
Father O’Malley sighed and bit into his toast. “I’m not surprised, unfortunately. You’re the first person he cares for who isn’t, for lack of a better term, required to love him. There’s uncertainty in what we cannot control, and you know how badly that boy feels the need to remain in control.”
Understatement of the year.
“It makes him vulnerable,” he said. “He’s not used to that either, and it’s another reason why you two need to build a stronger foundation.”
“And how do I do that with friendship?” I asked, feeling frustration build up inside me. “Most of the time, I wanna throttle him.”
Father O’Malley chuckled throatily and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Observe, dear child. The first step toward friendship doesn’t have to be you asking him out for a coffee and a chat. You can start by paying attention to the established friendships he has with others. Observe how he treats those around him, listen to the stories the other boys share, speak to Shannon. Get to know the boy who became the man you married. You see, that’s the Finn I know.” The fondness was written all over him. “When I hear something about him I wish I had no knowledge of, I remind myself of his heart—and the young man who came barging into the church once, sweaty and eyes wild with fury, asking if God could make an exception for him so he could stab his friend’s parents.”
Kellan. It had to be. I’d heard bits and pieces of how his mom and dad kicked him out for being gay. The boys had been around thirteen or fourteen. Finnegan had been so mad, and he hadn’t asked if Kellan could stay with the O’Sheas. He’d declared it. He’d braced himself to go to war against his own parents if they didn’t allow it. Of course, Grace and Shan hadn’t hesitated for a second to take Kellan in.
“He’d even brought the knife with him to church,” Father O’Malley said wryly. “He tried to plead his case. ‘I’ll only do it once, I swear,’ he kept saying.”
I shook my head and couldn’t help but giggle.
“I have years and years’ worth of these stories, Emilia,” he murmured. “Some will call me corrupt. I say I live in the real world, and I have to look at my community from a wide perspective. I am not blind to what the Sons and their associates allegedly do, but that includes the good things. And there are many of them.”
“Like what?” I asked curiously.
“For one, they keep kids off the streets,” he replied. “Their donations provide for shelters, tutors, and
food deliveries. Finn’s family alone is funding two shelters in the city for single parents and children escaping abuse. Then there’s the mere presence of the Sons. They keep crime down, ironically.”
I’d read about that last part. It was bizarre. I hadn’t believed Eric when he’d told me crimes were up in Philly, so I’d looked into it online. True enough, petty crimes and gang violence were making headlines. All because the cat was away.
Of course, nobody said outright that it was due to the disappearance of a larger criminal organization like the Sons of Munster, but all one had to do was put two and two together.
“Is this how you justify things?” I wondered.
“Oh, no. Not at all, dear.” Father O’Malley finished his toast and sipped his coffee. “I’ve only chosen a path where I can help more. I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing for drawing a line in the sand of what’s okay and not—it isn’t my place to decide which crimes are the lesser evil—but what is my alternative? If I go up against the Sons, if I turn Finn and his family away from my church, I will have hundreds of men, women, and children who suddenly have to seek new ways to get by.” He set his plate and cup aside, then clasped his hands casually on the table. “The impoverished already lack options. When they work, their young have to be alone. If they’re with their children, they don’t make money. This community needs the youth centers we’ve set up, the day cares running on O’Shea donations, and the jobs created to keep these places going.”
I chewed on my lip.
I suppose this was what he meant by living in the real world. It wasn’t easy. It wasn’t always about wrong or right. The world was a big fat gray area, and though I—or we—could never justify what Finnegan and the Sons did, I had to consider the consequences of any alternative.
My dad had abused me one way or another my whole life, and I would’ve been better off as a child if, for instance, he’d been gunned down. But a crime was a crime, right? It didn’t matter that he’d done to me; he didn’t deserve to die for it. Or some shit.
Ugh. It made me mad.
“It’s difficult not to play judge, jury, and executioner when it’s personal,” I admitted.
“Very difficult,” Father O’Malley agreed. “One of the many trials in life that God gives us.”
My mouth twitched.
“There’s one more thing, Emilia.” He smiled gently. “Don’t underestimate the profound influence you have on our Finnegan. He listens to you. He admires you. If you’re searching for a place where you can make a difference, I believe you’ve already found it.”
Finnegan also lied to me, manipulated me, and…blah. Whatever. Father O’Malley had reminded me of the impact I could make on Finnegan before, and I wanted to hold on to that belief, though it had waned a bit now.
“I appreciate you, Father O’Malley,” I murmured. “I’ll try to open my eyes a bit more.”
“That husband of yours has to do the same,” he pointed out kindly. “In fact, do tell him to give me a call, will you? I don’t assume he’s been to confession in a while? They do him good.”
That was weirdly true. Maybe I had an influence on Finnegan, but so did the church. He was more centered after talking to Father O’Malley.
I promised I would speak to Finnegan about reaching out.
Two days before Christmas, Hyde Park was blanketed in a thin layer of snow.
Conn and Colm were away for work, so my exercise buddy today was Liam.
I’d actually asked him, specifically, to join me.
He provided yet another perspective I wanted to know better, and he had heaps of stories about Finnegan to share.
Liam was quick to see through me. He understood why I wanted to hear good things about the top liar in the family.
“You think I’m trying to bargain with myself,” I said.
“Call it whatever ye want, darlin’,” he replied. We left the main trail that went around the entire park and headed inward on a path where the snow was fresh. “It’s always good to know all sides before you make a decision, innit?”
Well, yes. That’s what I was aiming for.
“I reckon there’s something Father O’Malley won’t spell out for ye, though,” he went on. “You’re married to a mobster. We’re lovable gobshites, if I may say so meself, but stop looking for good men in our family.”
I sniffled at the cold and pulled down my beanie some more. “That was…blunt.”
He shrugged. “How we define good is different. To me, Finn is good. He takes care of his family and looks out for his community. But ask a cop…?” He let out a low whistle. “We don’t exactly have the moral high ground. And the thing is, we don’t give a shite. We don’t fight for our country, we fight for our family, and it’s up to you to either accept it or walk away.”
Ouch. He sure wasn’t sugarcoating anything.
“Personally, I hope ye stay.” He nudged me and smirked.
I chuckled uncomfortably. It took a brisk walk in Hyde Park with Liam Murray to realize that my decision would be to accept Finnegan, with all that entailed, or walk away from the love of my life.
“I can’t change him, can I?” I swallowed hard. “I mean, I don’t want—fuck. I don’t know what I mean.”
Liam took pity on me and stopped in the middle of the path. No one was nearby, except for a squirrel here and there darting between the trees. “I know what you mean. You don’t want to change him as a person,” he said. “But you wanna change some terms and outcomes. You don’t wanna be lied to.”
“Yeah. That.”
He hummed and glanced out over the vast park, his nose and cheeks turning red from the icy winds. “I think you have to accept the lies, darlin’.” He slid his gaze to mine again. “I think what you can change is his mind-set. With time and work, you can make him think twice before lying—you can make him see that some lies shouldn’t be lies, and some… Well.”
Grace’s words rushed back to me.
“We’re a bunch of liars, but we love fiercely, and we’re loyal to a fault.”
She and Shannon had told me to find trust by seeing Finnegan’s intentions.
Finnegan clearly had to work on that, because it was impossible to see his intentions when he manipulated me the way he did. With my mom, with how we met.
Liam agreed when I vented about that.
“He has to put more faith in you,” he told me. “Father O’Malley’s right about youse needing to build something more solid.” He paused and grinned at something, and we started walking again. “This puts shit in perspective for me.”
“What do you mean?”
He chuckled. “Well, growing up, I’ve seen a lotta wives in the syndicate leave their men—or try to. Compared to many of us, Finn is a bloody saint. He would never do ye dirty, he’d never have a second family on the side—or like me own dad, get a mistress to produce children when the wife can’t—he’d never raise his hand to you or belittle you in public.”
That chunk of honesty tumbled down my throat and settled in my stomach with a twist of pain.
I couldn’t argue with Liam on that.
“We’re lovable gobshites, if I may say so meself, but stop looking for good men in our family.”
Stop looking for good men…but in this bunch, Finnegan happened to be one of the best.
One part of me claimed it didn’t matter; I shouldn’t have to settle, and just because there were wives with much bigger issues didn’t make my problem any less real. Then, on the other hand, holy shit, I was tired of going back and forth. My own brain exhausted me. I couldn’t help that I’d fallen in love with Finnegan, and those feelings weren’t going anywhere. The opposite. I missed him like crazy.
“Help me forgive him,” I pleaded with Liam. “Tell me what to do. Not that I won’t take Father O’Malley’s advice—I definitely will—but you gotta have some trick too. Give it to me plainly.”
Liam quirked a brow and smirked slowly, then threw an arm around my shoulders. “Haven’t we
made shit clear on how we do it in our family, Emilia? You get even. You put him in his place and force him to see what’s up.” He cuffed me lightly on the chin. “Finn once told me you stole his car just to prove a point.”
I loved Liam.
“So, do you have an idea?” I asked hopefully.
He grinned. “Oh, I can think of something.”
17
Finnegan O’Shea
“You ugly fucking genius, big brother,” I said, entering the office. “See you when you get back.” I ended the call, slipped the phone into my pocket, and faced the others. “Pat’s delivered. Holy shit.” I ran a hand through my hair, excited, and the mental race was on. This changed things. “All right, so you all know we’ve been trying to find Gio’s lot in the Barcelona harbor.”
It was one of the biggest ports in Europe, and for months now, our leads had only confirmed the space of his warehouse, how much he paid in rent, and how often he booked shipments to and from it. The address hadn’t been there—or we’d missed it in the clusterfuck of paperwork in Gio’s study. But now…my fucking brute of a brother had come through.
“Patrick found it?” Kellan guessed.
“More than that,” I replied. “He dug around the shipping company Gio uses and found an in. Not only do we have the address, but we happen to know the exact time and date a driver will pick up a car and drive it to an exclusive auto show in Paris.”
Liam straightened at that. “The one on New Year’s? It’s invite-only.”
I smirked and faced Eric. “You can get two of us on the list, can’t you?”
I knew he could, because though we’d never been invited to this auto show, the French company that would be in charge of security for the event used software designed by Eric fucking Bell. It was through my firm the French had ordered their entire security system.
