This Life 1

by Cara Dee

  We instantly had his attention. His eyes narrowed to slits, and the suspicion rolled off him. “Kellan, control your sister. Emilia’s trouble as it is.”

  “Bitch, please. I’m doing you a favor,” Luna said.

  According to Grace and Vivian, Finnegan and Luna had grown up bickering like siblings, so I was hoping to enjoy a show. They were certainly different. One was aiming toward a PhD in women’s studies. The other one was Finnegan.

  I didn’t get my show this time, though. Finnegan dismissed Luna, and she rolled her eyes and went into the pool.

  “What’s she up to?” Finnegan patted the spot between his legs, and I scooted farther up the lounger. “Last time she tried to do me a favor, I ended up in a vegan restaurant.”

  I laughed and leaned back against his chest. “How did you survive?”

  “I barely did.” He bit into his ice cream. Actually bit.

  “There are two types of people in this world,” I said. “Those who chew their ice cream and normal people.”

  “I think we all know I’m not normal.” He smirked, then nodded at me. “Don’t change the subject.”

  I pursed my lips, thinking about it. Truth was, Finnegan would love the gift Luna had given us—or me. She said every girl needed a few, and Finnegan’s gift would be to watch me enjoy them. Them, as in sex toys.

  She’d given them to me right around the time Grace announced it was time for her to leave.

  “Her gift,” I said. “She gave me three sex toys.”

  Finnegan’s brows went high, and the fucker dropped his ice cream.

  I shrieked at the cold and jumped up from the lounger. “Finnegan!” Gross. It was all over my thigh.

  “Shite. Sorry.” He blinked and shook his head, then jumped into action. He grimaced and dumped the ice cream into his coffee mug on the side table. “Uh, here.” He wiped my thigh with his towel, quickly pulling me down between his legs again. “Let’s talk about this in great detail. What kinds of toys?”

  I puffed out a breath and laughed. “How about I show you later instead?”

  He raked his teeth across his bottom lip. “That’s probably not a good idea. I want you too much.”

  I was sensing that, and I wasn’t a fan. The last week, he’d held back a lot. Not a day passed without him ending up between my legs—with his mouth. He drove me freaking crazy with pleasure, and I was done pretending I didn’t want him inside me. I wanted us to have sex; I was beyond ready. But he wouldn’t go there. He didn’t even let me give him blow jobs anymore, stating it was too tempting. He lost control or something.

  I cuddled up against his chest and used a fresh towel as a blanket. “You and your traditions.”

  His smile was hesitant. “It’s important to me.”

  I kissed his neck, not wanting him to think I didn’t respect his wishes. “It’s okay. I understand. It’s just…”

  “Frustrating as fuck?” He hugged me to him, and I nodded and laughed under my breath. “I’m aware. I can’t wait for—fuck.” He pressed a kiss to my hair and inhaled deeply. “You’re it for me, Emilia.”

  With those hushed words, everything around me disappeared. I peered up at him and searched his eyes, and I saw it all—right there. Something I got glimpses of every day now. Something I loved to see. Foolishly, maybe. He was so serious, so open, and it filled me with stupid hope. Once more, I was at odds with myself. My heart wanted one thing, and my brain…was screaming at me.

  Did he know I’d looked up the Irish words he’d written? Did he think about it?

  I swallowed hard. I could see the precipice I stood on.

  Falling was effortless. It was the landing that scared me. What if he didn’t catch me?

  “Don’t you get scared?” I whispered.

  “Try terrified,” he whispered back. “Every morning, I wonder if that’s the day I’ll lose you.”

  Sweet Jesus, I was toast, and he was too good.

  Yeah…falling was effortless, and I knew because I’d been falling for a while now. I felt it in my stomach and every time I looked at Finnegan.

  He gave me another squeeze and tucked my head under his chin, and it was a good thing. He was the very definition of irresistible, and a few seconds of eye contact were all it took for me to slip further away from who I used to be.

  In only a few months, he’d made me go from being thoroughly repulsed to a guilty mess because I was more or less head over heels in love with him.

  For the first time in my life, I looked forward to talking to a priest.

  After a day of errands in the city, Shan stepped out of the car with Father O’Malley in tow, who’d been invited out here for dinner. One of the guesthouses had been prepared for his brief stay, and Finnegan was the first to go down to the gates and greet him.

  I stayed back, but only because I wasn’t showing up in a bikini. Finnegan had been working…somewhere, and he’d emerged in suit pants and a nice button-down.

  I made quick work of myself and changed into more appropriate clothes. Boredom had struck me too lately, and Finnegan had all but coerced me to cure it by shopping online. With only a couple days left until we were returning to Philadelphia, I had two closets full of clothes, not counting the stuff we’d had delivered to the condo back home.

  Home. Huh. I supposed Philly had become my home, despite that we’d spent more time out here at the compound.

  I slipped into a pair of white dress pants and hoped to all that was holy I didn’t spill later. A sleeveless silk blouse in emerald green followed, and I smoothed down the ruffled front before running my fingers through my hair. It was sun-kissed, a few shades lighter after we’d spent so much time by the pool.

  Lastly, I applied some mascara and lip balm, then put on a pair of flats that matched the shiny fabric of my top. This part was weirdly fun for me, and I enjoyed looking like I belonged next to Finnegan. Image mattered to him, especially around people he respected. Then it was important to me too.

  I left our house and clasped a bracelet onto my wrist, and by that time, Finnegan and Father O’Malley were slowly walking toward the main house.

  They both smiled when they spotted me, and the warm glow of approval in Finnegan’s eyes meant more than it probably should.

  “Hi, Father O’Malley.”

  “My dear.” He gave me a hug, and I kissed his cheek. “You’ve been missed at the church.”

  Yikes. While I couldn’t say I missed the silly Pre-Cana classes and his gentle prodding about my “lack of faith,” he was a charming, funny man. I could see why Finnegan and others felt better after talking to him. I did too, because he knew exactly what to say when I fretted about morals and crap like that.

  “I’m glad you could come,” I settled for saying, and I slipped my hand into Finnegan’s. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  He smiled and shook his head, only to address Finnegan next. “I hope you know how blessed you are, lad.”

  “I know.” Finnegan brought our hands to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. “She might very well be the best part of me.”

  My cheeks heated, and I squeezed his hand.

  Dinner was going to be a semiformal affair, and the main purpose was for Father O’Malley to chat with Sarah and me before the wedding hysteria took over. Maybe she was still by the pool…? I couldn’t see her. I knew most of the others had ventured out for dinner in Gettysburg, leaving us alone with two O’Shea brothers and their parents.

  As a joke, Kellan had suggested they go to the diner where I used to work. I’d shaken it off quickly because I hated to think about it. Part of me knew there were matters I’d have to deal with at some point, but I had time. For now, my old life no longer existed. Dad was a distant memory I was doing a good job of suppressing. The diner and the smell of grease, the constant cloud of melancholy that hung over the town, the empty bottles, school, Franny’s condescending stare—all of it belonged in the past.

  Patrick opened the door as we neared the house, and he was
dressed much like Finnegan. I couldn’t imagine it being very comfortable for six or seven men to be crammed into Shan’s study to work on whatever they did, but they’d been there most of yesterday and today.

  “Long time, no see, padre.” Patrick smirked and offered a hand to Father O’Malley.

  “I’ll say, you rascal.” Father O’Malley chuckled and shook his hand. “Where’s your Sarah?”

  That answer came from behind me when I heard her holler my name. I looked back toward our houses, and she gestured for me to come to her.

  “I’ll be right back.” I excused myself and strolled down the hill again. The sun was starting to set, painting the treetops in a burning amber color.

  A minute later, I reached Patrick and Sarah’s house, and alarm hit me at the sight of her face. “Hon, what’s wrong?”

  She was damn near hyperventilating and had tears running down her cheeks, so I quickly ushered her inside and closed the door.

  “I’m f-freaking out,” she stuttered, grasping at my arms. “Fuck.”

  “Hey. Christ—breathe, sweetie. Come here.” What the hell had happened? I helped her over to their couch and sat down with her. “Tell me what’s wrong.” The worry festered inside me. Something must’ve happened. She’d been laughing with Luna and me less than an hour ago.

  She tried to gulp in a breath and wiped at her cheeks, smearing her freshly applied makeup.

  “Breathe with me.” I gripped her shoulders and made her face me, and I breathed in deeply. “Sarah, focus on my voice. Want me to get Patrick or Shan?”

  That caused a reaction. She shook her head furiously and did her best to follow my lead. She closed her eyes and inhaled. I rubbed her back soothingly and felt my eyes sting with tears. She’d freaked out once like this before, years and years ago.

  “You’re doing great, hon,” I whispered thickly. “That’s it. Just breathe.”

  She nodded jerkily and took another breath. I pushed back her hair and brushed away her tears.

  “Whatever’s wrong, we’ll fix it, Sarah. I swear. I’m here, okay?”

  The girl needed to talk already. These past few weeks, I’d alternated between annoyed and concerned. She’d just been so…cold and shut-off, not to mention unwilling to talk about it. And her strategy wasn’t freaking working. She couldn’t put her life on hold completely for three years and think she could simply walk away with a bunch of money.

  “I don’t think I can do this,” she whimpered.

  “Do what?” I kept my voice soft, even as fear was shot into me.

  “He’s—he’s changing things.” She covered her face with her hands and choked on a cry. “That fucking Finnegan—it’s his fault. He got through to Patrick, and now he’s different. Look. Just look.” She kept weeping, and she pulled out her phone from the pocket of her jeans. “He s-sent me this while I was getting ready.”

  The screen flashed to life, and I read the message from Patrick.

  If I could go back and change things, I would. I’d ask you out for coffee and quit pretending to be someone I’m not. Half the time, I don’t know what I’m doing. You make me wanna be better.

  “Damn,” I mouthed. Patrick was stepping up.

  “Look. There’s more.” She scrolled up, up, up, frantic. “It’s been like this for weeks now.”

  I caught you smiling at something Em said today. All I want right now is to be able to make you smile at me like that.

  “I can’t do it anymore.” Sarah sniffled.

  I want us to try, Sarah. I keep thinking I might regret it for the rest of my life if I don’t get to know the real you.

  I brushed away a tear as it fell down my cheek, and I hugged Sarah to me. “Remember when you said it’s okay for us to enjoy this?”

  She shook her head and put her phone on the table. “It’s not the same, Em. You can’t say you’re merely enjoying being with Finnegan.”

  No, and I couldn’t lie about it anymore either. “I think I’m in love with him,” I confessed.

  “See?” she cried. “I can’t go down that road with Patrick. They’ll just suck us in!”

  “I know. I know.” Ugh, I wished I were having this conversation after I’d talked to Father O’Malley. He’d helped me justify my feelings for Finnegan once before. It left me no choice; I had to parrot him. Or paraphrase. “Look, honey. I know what we used to think. Everything was black-and-white, and now it’s one big mess of gray. But Father O’Malley told me we’re not powerless. What if we can make a difference? What if we become the guys’ consciences? Maybe that’s naïve, but—”

  “You think?” She wiped at her cheeks again.

  I suppressed a sigh and squeezed her hand in both of mine. “I have to believe, Sarah. One day, when Finnegan chooses between hurting someone and not, I have to believe I can make a difference. No matter what, I can accomplish more by his side than…I don’t know, by going back to the nothing we had before.”

  She blew out a shaky breath and sniffled. “You think I should give Patrick a chance.”

  “I think you should give yourself the chance to be happy, for however long it lasts.”

  As I said this to Sarah, I took the advice more to heart myself. I couldn’t be stuck in between gray areas any longer. It was time to jump, follow the contract I’d signed, and make the best of the situation. I wasn’t one of those who could keep one part of me locked up and secret. It was all or nothing, I guessed. Otherwise, I’d never stop going back and forth.

  It would make me miserable in the end.

  She looked at me warily, eyes bloodshot and cheeks flushed. “Are you gonna stay with Finnegan after those three years?”

  I had no clue. “That’s up to him.” It twisted my stomach to admit it. “My limits haven’t changed. If he hurts me beyond what I’m capable of forgiving, I’ll walk.” Of that, I had absolutely no doubt. “I’m young and dumb,” I said half jokingly, “but I’m not going to be a doormat.”

  She accepted my answer and rested her head on my shoulder. “I fucking hate this.”

  “I hate that you shut me out,” I countered carefully. “I might be partly to blame—”

  She shook her head, but I wasn’t done speaking.

  “Either way, we gotta be more honest,” I told her. “Seriously. I don’t trust the man I’ve lost my heart to, so I need you with me. We have to be able to count on each other.”

  “I’m with you,” she whispered and squeezed my hand. “I’ll try. Maybe it’ll make Grace like me too.”

  I made a noise. “What’re you talking about? Grace loves you.”

  She chuckled and rolled her eyes, straightening up. “No way. She loves you. She’s… I don’t know. She’s more careful around me.”

  Understandable, when seeing it from Grace’s side of things.

  “Probably because she doesn’t know you yet,” I comforted. “When you give Patrick a chance, include Grace and Shan. They’ll see it.”

  “Maybe.”

  Whereas Sarah remained skeptical, I felt a lot better. More hopeful. Less in need of Father O’Malley’s moral compass. Sarah was going to show everyone what a sweetheart she was underneath that tough-girl exterior, and I was going to…um, just keep hoping for the best, I supposed. In short, I could have the best life imaginable ahead of me, or the worst that would shatter me into tiny pieces.

  What joy.

  “Come on.” I dragged Sarah to her feet. “We’re gonna knock this dinner out of the park. No one’s to say we can’t be both ballbusters and perfect little wives. Let’s show ’em, Sarah.”

  Chapter 26

  Finnegan O’Shea

  For once in my life, I had no desire to talk at dinner. Instead, I sat back and watched Emilia interact with my family. Her changes had been subtle from the beginning, but something had happened recently. She was shouldering a role, and she was doing it fucking perfectly.

  Something had clearly happened today too. No amount of makeup could remove the last traces of whatever had upset Sara
h, and I could tell my brother was going to do his damnedest to figure it out later. Right now, though, she seemed to be doing okay. Her polite smiles were uncharacteristically tentative, yet she made more of an effort to join in on the conversations.

  Ma had gone all out for dinner, and her obsession with windows hadn’t waned. Not only was the dining room decked out with candles and fresh flowers, but the pool area right outside had been tidied up for the sake of our view. There were fresh flowers out there too, not to mention linen cloths on the small tables between the loungers.

  Ian was the master chef as usual, and after appetizers came grilled lamb chops and at least six different side dishes. It was one of the contenders for the wedding menu. There was more wine than we normally drank in our family, and everything was served on my parents’ wedding china.

  The dinner wasn’t that big of a deal. Father O’Malley just wanted to spend some time with us and to see how Emilia—and Sarah, though her wedding was a month away—fit in.

  Ma treated it almost like a graduation. She wanted to know everything about Emilia’s Pre-Cana classes from Father O’Malley, even though he’d bent the rules for us a bit. As far as I knew, it’d been less premarital counseling and advice and more lending an ear to Emilia and her adjustments.

  I leaned in and spoke for only Emilia to hear. “Should I tell the Father that you’re going against our belief with your silly birth control?”

  We could joke about it now, I was pretty sure.

  Although, I did hate seeing that dumb fucking pillbox in the bathroom every morning. First time I saw it, I’d thought it was a makeup thing. Then she’d opened it, and I’d seen a colorful blister pack of pills that were going to kill my swimmers.

  Emilia faced me with a sugary smile. “Should I tell the Father that you’re going against your own beliefs and you lie, steal, and—”

  “Let’s be nice,” I whispered.

  “Thought so,” she whispered back.