I take a sip of my wine. He says nothing because he doesn’t need to.
“I may be the writer, but you just read me like an open book.”
“I’ve read your work. It’s very good. I can easily see you winning that award.”
“Thank you, but it’s mostly sports related. Those kinds of stories typically don’t win.”
“What if there was a sports story that dug at the core of the human fabric? One that was both investigative and could move people at the same time. One that was so big, just by publishing it your story would be debated and discussed in sports bars around the country in addition to the highest levels of academia…at least the ones that deal with psychology that is.”
I pause trying to think about what he’s referring to. And I also feel so grateful that he’s back in town and here at dinner less than two weeks away from one of the biggest fights in this history of MMA he’s thinking about me.
And I get chills just thinking about the assignment to write such a story.
“Where would I find a story like that?” I ask.
“It’s sitting right in front of you.”
CHAPTER 6
Gracie
“The trouble with Hassan and all the things from his past?” I ask as we go from sitting side by side to him turning my body and chair more to face him. I’m extremely intrigued and extremely thankful that he thought of me for whatever he has.
I feel the wheels in my mind spin and a quick thought enters and exits my head. He’s the only man who can give me butterflies and make me feel need, but in addition to that he can stimulate my mind like no one else has. The majority of the general public probably just sees him as a loud-mouthed man who’s taken too many knocks to the head.
But I’m dying to know where he’s heading with what he’s holding onto. And I’m in heaven for being with the only guy who could ever stimulate me both emotionally and mentally, and at the same time just add fuel to the fire.
“You won’t have any trouble with Hassan. I won’t let him, or anyone, near you. What I’m talking about is a different kind of troubles.”
“Are you in danger?”
“Not those kinds of troubles. The Troubles,” he says and I can’t pick up on his cryptic speak.
“What do you mean The Troubles?”
“The conflict in Northern Ireland during the late twentieth century. Internationally it was known as the Northern Ireland conflict, but back home it was just referred to as The Troubles.”
I pause feeling a bombshell about to be dropped as the tiny hairs on my arms stand at attention as I can literally feel all the skin on my body become covered with goose bumps.
“Back home? We might be Irish in name, mannerisms, and in regards to the community we grew up in and the people we know and understand, but we’re Americans, Gavin.”
He brings the triple distilled whiskey, with its hints of vanilla, honey, and toasted wood, that has been crafted at Ireland’s oldest distillery using the Isle's freshest spring water and the finest golden grain and single malt to his lips and I watch as the entirety of the liquid gold in his glass slides down his throat.
“Speak for yourself.”
CHAPTER 7
Gavin
It’s a secret I’ve held my entire life and now it’s time to let it out.
It’s time to not only cleanse what’s inside me but to give this woman that I love more than anything in the world a gift. The kind of gift that you cannot find in stores. The kind of gift that will make her professional career take off like a rocket.
I pray to god that she wins the Pulitzer with this information so I can be there to hug her tight and kiss her hard and tell her how proud I am of her when she takes the information I’m about to give her and spins it into an emotional piece that resonates with the world.
And the timing now is right. The world is hungry for information not only about me and this fight, but about her.
Who is she?
Where is she from?
How does she know me?
Well, this is her chance to answer all those questions and at the same time to raise questions about my past, and let the reader fill in the blanks with their own answers whether right or wrong.
I’m a strong man. I can take every pound of criticism I’ll get for every ounce of accolades.
But the point is people will talk, and they’ll not only talk about me, but about her.
And about us.
And it’s one hell of a way to let the world know she is mine, but this way will be immediate and final.
There will be no doubt by anyone on this entire planet. When they see her after this article is published they will know she is mine and mine alone.
And if you’re foolish enough to mess with her then you’re going to get the bull, the horns, the hooves, and the snarl and kicking and everything that goes with it when I charge at them and drop them to the ground and on their backs in a manner that they will never get up again.
Because she is mine and as a warrior that is what I do. I fight to protect my own, and she is my number one.
“I was not born in America. I was born in Dublin.”
“Dublin? You’re from Southie. Have you lost your mind?”
I like the fire inside her. The way she challenges what she does not believe to be true, even if it came from me. And do I ever love her passion.
“When did your brother meet me?”
“Seventh grade. I know that for a fact.”
“And why did we meet in seventh grade?”
“Because you went to different elementary schools, but then…” her words trail off. “Where did you go to elementary school?”
“I didn’t.”
“But you can’t just start school in seventh grade. Is this a publicity stunt or a joke, Gavin? I know you’re a prankster, my brother’s told me, but if you’re pulling my leg I swear…”
A vision of me behind her pulling her hair as I take her as she’s pinned against the wall in the restaurant flashes through my mind, causing me to pause for a moment to collect myself while my underwear collects the pre-cum that’s already formed at the tip of my cock.
“This is not a joke. We’ll walk through it together and it will make sense at the end.”
“Okay,” she says in a more hushed tone. “I believe you, and I’m sorry for questioning you.”
“Doubt is good. It’s one of the things I like most about you. You question everything until you find the truth, and I want you to see the truth in me. I’ve kept this to myself for a long time and it’s time to share it with you.”
“Thank you,” she says as her hand comes up from her lap and places it on mine.
“My parents were killed during The Troubles. They were both fighters in the Northern Ireland Conflict, so as you can see I was born to fight…to stand up for what I believe in. It’s what my parents did. McGregor’s stand up for what is right. And what we have is right and you know I’ll fight for it, and for you, forever,” I say as I bring her hand up to my mouth and kiss that delicate skin along the inside of her wrist. I can feel her pulse underneath my lips and I don’t know whose heart is beating faster, hers or mine.
“After they were killed I was sent to live with my aunt, but of course like any young boy who’d lost his parents I started lashing out. I was angry at the world. Pissed off that I’d been dealt a bad hand and I was going to take it out on anyone and anything, women excluded of course.
“But my father’s sister couldn’t manage me by herself. I was way more than a handful and she had some demons of her own to deal with, so very reluctantly she found a family here in the States that couldn’t conceive and was looking for a boy. It seemed like the perfect fit. They were one of the few families anywhere that was not just willing to, but interested in, taking a boy my age. People always want babies so at first glance it looked like I’d lucked out.
“Well, after I arrived I realized right away I didn’t bring the luck of the Irish with me
across the pond.
“The male in charge of the house thought he could beat me and that he could put his hands on me in other ways too.
“No way in hell I was going to allow either.
“So one night he tried to come into my room when I was sleeping, but I woke up and wasted no time putting him in a wheelchair, and then the police put him in jail and social services put me in a foster home.
“That’s why I never invited your brother over to ‘my place.’ It was because I never had one to begin with. It’s why we always met at the Boston Athletic Club and not my non-existent back yard.
“It’s why there were never sleepovers at my house and why my parents were ‘always out of town’ whenever anyone asked. Yeah, they were out of town all right. They were six feet under back in Dublin, where I was born and where I belonged.
“At least that’s how I always felt until I met your brother and your family.
“Your parents took me in and made me feel like one of their own. The way your mom asked one time if she could meet my mother and how she realized I wasn’t telling her the whole truth when I told her they were “out of town for awhile.” And the way she just accepted my answer and didn’t press for anything else. She just let me be me and was willing to accept whatever I was willing to give her, never asking for anything and never digging for information.
“She loved me and treated me like her own.
“But still I had unresolved anger issues, and thought I always would…until you walked into that press conference.
“And at that moment I knew the girl I’d seen at her eighteenth birthday party, the one I wanted so bad was ready for me too.
“Forever.
“Because before that I could never tell you how I truly felt. I had to stay away, to honor your family. It wasn’t right to pursue you, even though I knew one day soon I was going to lose that battle and pursue you anyways.
“To be honest I’ve been planning this for a long time.
“No one knows this, but I’ve decided this is my last fight. I’ve made enough money to last ten lifetimes, but all I want is one incredible lifetime with you.
“And when I saw you the other day it’s like all the anger issues just melted away. Like that chip on my shoulder just fell off and hit the floor and cracked into a million pieces.
“Don’t get me wrong, I can bring it back if anyone messes with us. I’ll be more than happy to do that.
“But it’s time for a different chapter in my life. And I’m ready for it.
“And that chapter is to love you.
“So I want you to know that you have nothing to worry about with that guy I’m fighting and his team.
“Nothing.
“They’re not going to give you any troubles and my troubles from the past are gone as well.
“The only trouble you will ever have to worry about is which wedding dress to pick out and even that won’t be a problem because I will get you whatever one you want in the entire world. From Vera Wang to Valentino. Just tell me the one and it’s yours, because you are mine.”
CHAPTER 8
Gracie
“I don’t know what to say,” I say as the back of my wrist goes for the side of my face, trying to catch the tears that are falling.
But Gavin is too quick. He’s got a napkin dabbing them away for me already. I guess that’s why he’s the knockout artist…quick hands.
But his words right now just knocked me out.
It seems so obvious now. I can’t believe I missed the signs, even though I was much too young at the time I could have figured it out later.
Or my brother could have figured it out at least.
But that doesn’t matter.
All that matters is loving him for who he is and what we have and more importantly what we can build together.
A home full of love.
“Just say yes when the time is right,” he says.
“Okay,” I say in between sniffs as I nod and then start smiling and laughing. “I can do that.”
“It’s coming soon. Don’t think for a second that it’s not. But right now I’ve got this fight to focus on…and you’ve got a Pulitzer prize to win.”
“I doubt it,” I say, but laugh.
“Don’t doubt it. Believe it. See it. Then deliver the work that will get it. And I know that’s exactly what you’re going to do.”
He has this way of saying things that makes them so convincing, so believable. Even the outlandish comments he makes…it seems like he’s visualized them before and now he’s bringing his vision right into existence.
And his confidence makes me feel confident too. It’s contagious in the best way possible.
We enjoy an amazing dinner of laughs, tears, touches on the arm, cheek, and sometimes other “accidental” grazes and grabs as well as he goes into more detail about his past…
…and tells me how much he’s looking forward to his future.
And by his future he means our future…together.
CHAPTER 9
Gracie
A week and a half later
The last ten days have been an absolute blur.
I’ve spent time with Gavin when we were able to bend our schedules enough so they would align, but those times were few and far between…and very brief.
But it’s okay.
He told me he doesn’t want to share our first time together until after all of this is over and we can go somewhere and enjoy it together. There’s no way he wants to rush me into bed just to claim me, even though we both know we both want that physical part.
But I know in the long run we’ll both appreciate waiting and making it special.
But someone who’s not waiting on me at all is my boss Brenda.
She’s dying to find out the name of “Gavin’s girl,” and she’s tasked me with that in addition to my regular workload…which has spiraled out of control each day as the “local” hero gets closer to his match.
If only they knew. And they will soon enough, because I’ve been drinking so much coffee around the clock it’s practically like I’ve got it on an IV drip in order to stay focused and get all my work done.
In addition to working on my “perfect Pulitzer piece” as Gavin calls it. He’s answered all my questions that come up, but he tells me he doesn’t want to read it until the same moment everyone else does. He wants that shock of hearing about it and discovering it himself.
I feel like that just adds pressure on my shoulders. It would be so much easier if I could get his approval after I finished it and before I released it, but he insists.
And I insist on pulling all-nighters at work, telling Brenda I’m closing in on “Gavin’s Girl,” knowing that my piece will reveal everything about my Mr. Everything.
And the night before the weigh-in, which is the day before the fight, I read over my final draft one more time and realize it’s the best piece of journalism I’ve ever written. I know it’s good for my skill level right now, but more importantly I feel like it’s a piece that would be considered pretty good for even the most accomplished of journalists.
I want to say it’s a masterpiece, but I don’t want to get my hopes up too high.
And speaking of hopes, my wish that my brother will come up from Florida for the weekend to watch the fight is answered when Gavin tells me he’s left him a ticket at the box office and Grady told him he’d be here. “I won’t miss it for the world,” I think were his actual words.
And that’s another reason Gavin wanted to wait on my piece and our first time. He wants Grady to know about us first. He says he deserves to know we’ve got something special before the whole world knows it.
I agree and admire Gavin’s discipline and loyalty. I guess that’s part of what makes him Irish, and definitely what makes him the best MMA fighter in the history of the sport.
I print out a final copy of my piece and shove it in my drawer at my desk at The Globe, and then eject the USB thumb drive where I’ve been
saving it. No way am I going to put it on the servers or somewhere on my hard drive where it might get discovered.
This is my Mona Lisa and it’s all mine.
And tomorrow morning I’ll give it a once over and then let the events of the weekend unfold before I walk into Brenda’s office on Monday morning and hand the printed copy over to her first thing and watch her reaction as she reads through it.
Possessive Boston Irish American MMA Fighter: An Older Man Younger Woman Romance (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 77) Page 4
