“I realize that, but…” She squeezed Gramma’s tiny shoulders. “Please don’t expect perfectly smooth sailing. This will be hard for Nick, and for all my kids. It’s life-changing.”
“And how boring life would be if it never changed.” She finally stepped away, letting out a sigh.
“But not everything is meant to change,” Katie mused. “Not your DNA. Not your parents. Not your family name.”
“You just told me about a family name changin’,” Gramma reminded her. “No harm nor foul.”
Katie smiled. “I hadn’t thought about it that way.”
“I can think of worse families to wake up and find out you’re part of,” Gramma Finnie said, taking two cups off hooks near the coffeemaker.
“I couldn’t agree more, but any family that isn’t the one you were raised being part of is going to be a…” Shock seemed like a ridiculous understatement. “Game changer.”
Gramma Finnie didn’t answer for a moment, but busied herself pouring three cups of coffee and getting some cream and sugar on the counter. She moved with remarkable grace and agility for a woman her age, her rubber-soled shoes squeaking on the wood with each step.
She got a plate and opened the Tupperware, taking some cookies out of the container and lining them up in a neat semicircle that would make Alex proud, then put the plate, the coffee, and the cream and sugar on a tray.
The quiet seemed natural, as they both sat thinking about what lay ahead.
Finally, she looked up at Katie with nothing but sincerity in her eyes. Based on all Daniel had told her about this woman, she expected a pithy proverb that would offer sweet, but useless, advice.
“What would you have done if you had known the child you carried was Daniel’s?” she asked.
Katie blinked, not expecting the deeply personal question. “I don’t know.”
“Would you have left your Nico? Risked losing that wonderful life and the family you ultimately made? Would you even have told him, considerin’ that things like this weren’t so easy to discover back in those years?”
Katie considered the brogue-laced question, turning it over in her mind, thinking back to the early days and their love. She remembered the bone-deep joy she and Nico had shared that night when he’d come up from the kitchen and she’d wrapped pink and blue pipe cleaners all over the apartment. It was one of the best nights of their entire lives.
And it wasn’t his baby.
“Nick was our personal victory,” she said. “Because of him, we beat the four parents who opposed our union so vehemently. Nick brought them around the altar with us, where we knew we were destined to be.”
“So you wouldn’t have left Nico?” The question came from behind her in Daniel’s deep voice, making her turn with a quick intake of breath. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I caught the end of that on my way to see what was taking so long.”
She looked from him to his mother, still pondering the real, hard truth of what she would have done if the timing had been different enough that she’d realized the baby was Daniel’s.
“I wouldn’t have left him,” she finally said.
“Then we’d have had a problem,” Daniel said. “Because I would have insisted on marrying you.”
The realization of that hit her like a punch to the solar plexus. He would have, of course. He was Daniel Kilcannon, and do the right thing was the motto that drove his every breath.
“Then both our families wouldn’t exist.” And didn’t he see how wrong that would have been?
Gramma came back around the counter. “The Irish say that what is meant for you won’t pass you by.” She patted Katie’s arm. “Your lives and your families were worked out long before you two ever set your sights on each other or your wonderful spouses. The fact is, you had no control over this big plan, and we all know it. Together, we can help all our lads and lassies understand that, too.” She waited a beat, then added, “Liam, in particular, will struggle, though he’ll never show it.”
Katie looked at her. “He seems so strong.”
“Aye. But he’s the eldest, and in an Irish family, that’s a place of honor that no boy will give up easily.”
“We’ll make it work,” Daniel assured them both. He came closer and wrapped his arms around them, pulling them into his big chest for a reassuring group hug. “I promise we will.”
“And my son doesn’t break promises,” Gramma said, easing out of the hug. “Now go on and paint yer livin’ room. It’s my nap time. Will you be here for dinner, lass? I’m afraid Saturdays are leftovers, but we have plenty.”
“I…” She glanced at Daniel, uncertain about his plans.
“I hoped we could go out and celebrate being done with the painting,” Daniel said. “And since you have to drive back to Bitter Bark tomorrow, you might as well stay in the guest suite.”
She’d thought of that and packed an overnight bag. “That would be easier for me than the round trip.”
“Good, it’s settled, then.” Gramma Finnie gave her one last hug. “You have an ally with me, lass. For what that’s worth.”
“I have a feeling that with this family, it’s worth a lot.”
* * *
He’d have married her.
Daniel was still a little stunned by the thought—the first time he’d actually realized it—after they settled down on the living room floor and gave the dogs a few treats so they didn’t come sniffing at the cookies.
He’d have married her.
He still couldn’t wrap his head around that.
“Your mom’s really something,” Katie said after taking a sip of coffee. “I honestly never dreamed a mother figure could be so loving. It’s like she’s not real.”
“Oh, she’s real.”
“Not opinionated.”
He almost choked on a sip of coffee. “Yes, she is. But she gets her message across in cute little sayings.”
“Yiayia prefers a good thump to the head. Preferably with a gyro.”
He smiled at that, eyeing her, taking in this woman who sat in streaming afternoon sunlight now that his sons had taken down the heavy drapes that Annie had once called her Scarlett O’Hara drapes, which Daniel still wasn’t sure he understood.
They’d been pretty, but this light was glorious, and he had to admit he loved Katie’s idea for shutters. Plus, the golden glow made her look bright and beautiful.
He would have married her.
“You look a little shaken up over that conversation,” she said.
“I am,” he admitted. “Life could have easily been so different. Some might say it should have.”
She searched his face. “Who would say that? Not our spouses. Not me or you. Nick?”
He lifted a shoulder, sure of nothing. “Does Nick know he was your ‘victory,’ as you put it?”
“I think so. We were honest with the kids about how much we wanted to get pregnant at that young age and how much we didn’t think they should follow in our footsteps.” She gave a dry laugh and brushed some sugar off her cookie. “We didn’t mean forever, though.”
“The grandchildren will come,” he promised her.
She nodded, her gaze still far away in the past. “Maybe wanting a child that young was dumb, but you have to understand the forces that were against us. My parents hated Nico with an intensity that’s hard to describe. You know there’s a small, tight-knit group of extremely wealthy people in Chestnut Creek, and my family was at the heart of it. The Santorinis were low-class Greeks who owned a ‘grease pit,’ as my mother lovingly called the deli.”
He cringed and shook his head at that injustice. “Your dad, too?”
She rolled her eyes. “He did what Mama said, but frankly, his full attention was on Adam, my brother, who could do no wrong. I was the girl—and an afterthought, at that.” She added a wry smile. “First born boys in many cultures have distinct advantages.”
“Are you close to Adam?”
She shrugged. “Christmas and birthday ca
lls, and I flew out to California for his granddaughter’s christening a while back. My ‘family’ was—is, really—the Santorinis. Yiayia and Papu got over the fact that I wasn’t Greek because the kids are half Greek.” She sighed. “Most of them, anyway.”
He let the comment pass, more interested in her extended family. “How do you think your mother-in-law will take the news?”
She looked up with raised eyebrows. “I’m sure they’ll hear her roar all over the retirement community. She’ll be happy that Papu isn’t around to feel the pain. So Yiayia is just another person I care about whose heart I’ll be breaking.”
He so wanted her not to look at the situation that way, but her perspective was different, and he understood that.
“What about when you and Annie found out she was pregnant before you were married?” she asked, then waved her hand as if to say she already knew the answer. “No doubt, the world’s sweetest mother showered you in Irish wedding blessings and Claddagh rings for luck.”
That’s exactly what his mother did, right down to the ring that Molly now wore.
“But not so on the other side,” he told her. “Annie’s mother didn’t even come here for our wedding, and I don’t think they were here a dozen times in the thirty-six years we were married.”
“Really? What didn’t they like about you? You’re perfect.”
“Hardly. They didn’t like the fact that she got pregnant before marriage. They were extremely strict Catholics, and even my mother’s assurances that she was, too, didn’t matter a lick. In particular, they were never kind to Liam, and it hurt Annie so much.”
“I guess it’s those kinds of slights and pains that made us all work so hard to have happy families,” she mused.
“You’re absolutely right.” His gaze automatically shifted to the wall that had, for so many years, been the representation of all things Kilcannon.
“You put all those pictures in bins for me, right?” she asked, obviously following his train of thought.
“They’re in the storage unit outside. Airtight. I don’t know what else to do with them.”
She turned and looked at the wall for a long time, narrowing one eye in thought and then sucked in a breath. “I have an idea.”
“What?”
She was silent for a moment, then turned to him, a gleam in her eyes before she reached for him, closing her hand over his. “I have an idea. A great one. Can I surprise you with it? Would you trust me?”
He didn’t answer right away, instead enjoying the warmth of her touch and the hope in her question.
“I trust you,” he promised, his voice thick with emotion.
She tapped her finger on his arm. “Then tell me what you’re really thinking.”
He inched back. “I did.”
“Something in the conversation we just had with Gramma threw you off your game,” she said. “I wish you’d tell me what it was.”
He didn’t know what he liked more, the directness of the question, or the fact that she could read him so well. “I would have married you.”
“But, Daniel, I would not have married you.”
“I’d have convinced you.”
“Then Nico would have killed you.”
He laughed. “So, basically, things could be worse.”
After a minute, she gave in to a slow smile. “Much.”
But he would have married her, he had no doubt. He’d have won the battle, given up Annie, even charmed her horrible parents if he’d had to. He would have married Katie Rogers because she carried his child, and…it wouldn’t have been awful at all.
Deep inside, he knew that’s what stunned him the most. Wasn’t Annie the only one?
Chapter Seventeen
Painting the wall hadn’t been so bad, but the ceiling took forever, and Katie and Daniel were so sore and tired by evening that they decided to have Chinese food delivered and ate it at the kitchen table.
Gramma had taken some to her room and retired for the night, after admiring their hard work and fresh paint.
As they ate fried rice and cashew chicken, Daniel shared the details of every one of his kids’ love stories, each one a little more fascinating and romantic to Katie than the next.
“So Christian actually used a sacred relic to fix a loose board on the playground structure?” She choked with laughter, even though the story itself, and the danger the child had been in, wasn’t funny.
“I don’t think he’ll appreciate the historical significance of that until he’s older, but it’s great family lore. And, of course, Liam gives all the credit to Jag for being the real hero.”
“Your kids have so many beautiful stories with happy endings. I especially love Molly and Trace’s story.” She sipped some wine and thought about the proposal he’d described. “I can’t believe he found the very minivan.”
“I can’t believe my daughter got pregnant in the back of that minivan.”
“It all turned out so well. You’re clearly enamored with Trace and Pru.”
“Trace is another son to me and living proof that a man can go to prison and come out better and stronger. And that little general is the greatest thing that ever happened to this family.” Still smiling, he shook his head. “You should have seen her at the wedding. Trace insisted they all get introduced to the church as one family.”
“Oh, that’s so sweet.”
“God, I love orchestrating some romance. We have to do more.” He focused on her. “Who can we fix up next?”
If he noticed the fact that they had just turned into a “we,” then he didn’t even flinch. “We’re matching two families over dinner tomorrow, remember?” she said. “I’m praying that it’s good.”
“It will be.” He had such faith in his family, and hers, that it touched her. “I’ve met Cassie, and she’s terrific. I’m sure Alex and John are, too. And I still think this is a very smart way to prepare everyone before…” He angled his head. “D-Day.”
“DNA Day,” she corrected with a wry look. “You can’t imagine how badly I wish I had a crystal ball to know what will happen.”
“Well, we have these.” He pushed up and headed to the counter, reaching into the bottom of the brown bag from Tang Wang, Bitter Bark’s one and only Chinese takeout restaurant. He pulled out two plastic-wrapped fortune cookies and brought them back to the table, sitting next to her on the bench instead of across the table where he’d eaten. “You choose first.”
She let her hand hover over both, moving back and forth. “I’ll take…this one.”
“Okay. This is it. Our peek into what’s going to happen.”
They opened each with great ceremony, breaking the cookies, but neither looking at the folded paper inside. Instead, they looked into each other’s eyes, and as it had all day long, Katie’s heart tripped around her chest and her very next breath got imperceptibly tighter.
He was so close, she wanted to inch closer and give in to the sensations that constantly brewed when they were together. The pull of attraction, the ache to get a little closer, the full-body tingle of electricity every time they accidentally touched.
He held her gaze with one as unwavering, his summer-sky-blue eyes locked on her as if he felt that same buzz.
“I’m a little scared,” she whispered, waving the fortune, but meaning something else entirely.
“Don’t be.” He flicked the edge of his paper with a blunt-tipped nail, drawing her gaze to his hands. It wasn’t the first time she’d studied them, counting paint drippings on his knuckles and noticing how long, lean, and strong his fingers were. The hands of a man who did hard work. The hands of a man who could…
“You first,” he said softly.
She looked back up at him, wishing the invitation had been to kiss him. Because she would have. Right then and there, on the lips, and with all the pent-up frustration she’d been taking out on the wall paint all day. But instead of aching muscles and a sore back, she’d have…pleasure.
“Okay.” She unfol
ded the slip of paper, hoping her hands didn’t tremble like her insides did at the moment. He leaned closer, his broad shoulder pressed against hers as he read out loud.
“‘Be mischievous and you will not be lonesome.’” He chuckled. “Mischievous, huh? Doesn’t sound like a word I’d associate with you.”
Really? ’Cause right at that moment, mischievous sounded exactly right. “Maybe you don’t know me.”
He stayed so close she could see every shade of blue in his eyes and the hint of salt-colored whiskers in the hollows of his cheeks. “Maybe I don’t.”
They didn’t move at all, still and close long enough for her brain to be aware that she was flirting and her body not to care.
“My turn,” he said, using his thumb to unfold the fortune. He inched back so she couldn’t see the words, clearing his throat to make an official reading. “‘Accept defeat.’” He frowned and pretended to look a little horrified at the thought. “‘It will only make you stronger.’”
“Defeat?”
Daniel let out a snort of disdain and gave his head a hard, negative shake. “I’ll accept no such thing,” he announced. “We’re not going to be defeated.”
“Maybe the fortune cookie is talking about something else,” she suggested. “Maybe your next matchmaking effort won’t work. Which of your nephews did you have in mind?”
“Braden.” He lifted his brow. “And Cassie.”
“Yep. Accept defeat. He’s not Greek enough for her.”
“But it’s a good idea, isn’t it?”
“Good heavens, Daniel, aren’t things messy enough between our families?”
He didn’t answer right away, but studied her face for a few seconds, then looked away when Rusty loped over and flopped his big tail a few times. “He needs to go out, and I want to do a final run through the kennels. And we should take Goldie back home.”
“Home? The kennel isn’t her home. Can she stay in the guest room with me?”
He tipped his head as if he was considering that, then gave a negative shake. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?”
“First of all, she’ll sense Rusty in the same house and will probably cry at the door all night. You wouldn’t like that.”
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