35. Kieran
Chapter 35
Kieran
A s I hold the door open to O’Brien’s for everyone to enter for lunch, I have this insane urge to shut it in Summer’s face. Her sweet smiles and light smacks to Marco on the arm at church, like he’s the most interesting man in the world, had me struggling to maintain my cool. I barely listened to the one-sided argument with Ronan over his current position at one of my restaurants because I was drawn to where Summer had marched up to Marco.
They talked. And I have no idea what about.
“Hey!” Lizzy says, pulling some chairs over from the surrounding tables. She’s already pulled several tables together to make a long rectangular one and draped it with a navy tablecloth. Three vases of white roses are evenly spaced down the center with table settings placed at each spot, and our chef is already preparing dishes.
When Cormac and I decided to attend Mass for show, having a family style meal at O’Brien’s afterward became an option. Lizzy took care of everything. We normally don’t open until 4:00 p.m. on Sundays, so it’s just a few of my men, including Finn, Cormac, and Callum. Then Oliver, Lizzy, Aoife, Summer, and myself.
When Summer marches her perfect ass through the door behind everyone else, I snag her arm, pulling her close to me.
“Care to tell me what yer conversation with Marco was about?”
“Not really, no,” she says. I yank her closer to me, pulling in a breath to steady myself. With my opposite hand, I grab her chin. She tries to pull away, but I grip her tighter. Her soft skin underneath my fingertips brings back memories of our kiss, and before I know it, my mouth lowers to hers with a ferocity I don’t recognize.
Her lips taste like peaches and summertime with a light sticky residue of lip gloss coating them. Her body softens for me, and a hushed whimper sounds in the back of her throat, as I swipe my tongue across her seam before pulling away.
“Ye’ll tell me eventually.”
She blinks up at me, swaying ever so slightly toward me.
When I turn around from the door, everyone is staring at us. Each expression is smug, with the exception of Aoife’s. Hers is beaming.
Damn it.
I shouldn’t have kissed Summer in front of her. I haven’t found a way to tell Aoife what’s going on, and with the possibility of Summer not wanting to stay—that would break Aoife’s heart. Both of ours, if I’m being honest.
Summer has settled into my heart, and I’m fixated. The need to convince her to stay is overwhelming, but the idea of forcing her into something she doesn’t want is just as tormenting.
With a blush on her face, Summer walks in to greet Lizzy. They hug each other, then move to the bar where Oliver is getting everyone a drink before lunch.
Cormac laughs at something Finn says while Aoife runs around the bar to help Oliver put her special cherries in her juice. Hands tucked into my pockets, I sigh. This is right. It feels right. I can suspect it’s because Summer completes the picture; one I’ve been dreaming about for a long time.
A few servers come out and bring traditional dishes, plus mac and cheese and chicken nuggets for Aoife. As people sit down, I watch as Summer takes Aoife’s hand and leads her to a seat, pulling it out and helping her up into it. She then takes the seat next to her.
While I’m sure Lizzy had planned on me sitting at the head of the table as per usual, I gravitate to the chair on the other side of Summer and plant my arse there. Cormac assesses me from across the table, and before I know it, everyone’s seated and dishing their plates full of bacon and cabbage, Shepherd’s pie, soda bread, and more.
Aoife points to the dishes she would like, and Summer forgoes her own plate, scooping macaroni and cheese and several nuggets for her. She even manages to bribe some roasted carrots on her plate.
Finn nudges me, passing the potatoes, and I drop a few on my plate before adding some to Summer’s. I repeat this for several dishes while Summer is busy making sure Aoife is settled.
Something in my chest swells. She’s so good with her. Summer is good with all kids, I knew that seeing her wait with Aoife and how she handled her kids on the field trip. Though, witnessing her nurturing ways with my daughter makes me want to wrap her in a hug and take care of her.
Conversation kicks up all around, and I take a sip of my whiskey, listening. Summer finally takes a minute while Aoife is munching on nuggets smothered in ketchup to glance at her full plate.
She looks at me, smiling. “You filled my plate? Thanks!” She forks a potato with a carrot and moans when it meets her tongue. I bite my lip, shaking my head, then put my fork down in favor of watching her eat.
Mouth full, she glances back at me. “What?” she says, but it’s muffled.
“Ye’re amazing.”
She chokes, grabbing for her glass of water and chugging it while working the rest of her food down.
“As always your timing is impeccable, Kieran.”
“Probably should’ve waited until ye weren’t mid bite,” I say, grinning at her reddened face.
“Well, you know what they say …” She trails off, biting her lip. I strain toward her, not wanting to miss the next words that come out of her mouth.
“What do they say?”
“Compliments go down easier without food in the way.”
I can’t help it. I laugh. That made no sense whatsoever, but my head whips back and I crack up. It bubbles up from somewhere deep inside me, unrestrained. I can’t hold back, my body shakes, and the more my shoulders bounce, the more joy lightens a weight from my chest. I’m not thinking about how I look or who’s watching—there’s just the simple pleasure of her words in this moment. The initial comment she made seems to have opened the floodgates to something more. It’s not only about her words, but how she makes me feel. So present, so playful, and so alive. Hell, I think I’m in love with her.
I snap my mouth shut at the thought, and for the second time today everyone is shell-shocked into a stupor, staring at me from around the table. Well, except for Aoife who’s giggling right along with me. Thank goodness I have one person who doesn’t think I’ve lost it.
The rawness of the moment—the feelings spilling over the deep reservoir within. I’m hyperaware of my racing pulse and the silly grin still on my face.
Slowly the awkwardness fades into the background as those around the table go back to eating except for Summer. She places her fork down on her plate and turns toward me.
“So do I get credit for that laugh?”
I lean back, twirling my whiskey glass near the edge of the table. The liquor sloshes up the sides as I let out another tiny chuckle.
“Credit? Ye should get an award. Haven’t laughed that hard in ages.”
Her smile breaks wide into a grin and a piece of hair falls over her eye. Quickly, I reach up and tuck it behind her ear, only for it to fall out again.
“Careful,” she says, “or I might start thinking I’m actually funny.”
I lean over to her. “Who say’s yer not? Ye’ve got a talent for making me feel.”
“Glad to know I can keep you entertained.” She chews at her upper lip and picks at a few flowers on her dress.
“Aye. But ye do more than keep me entertained, love.” I move my hand to her knee and give it a light squeeze. I want to confide in her, tell her how I feel. It’s been years since I’ve felt this way for a woman. But the fear she’ll run away like Laura did keeps me from saying anything more, especially since I know it’s not her plan to stay.
Summer’s hand moves over mine and then climbs up my forearm. She tugs me closer, planting a kiss to my cheek.
It’s not her plan to stay, right?
By the time dessert comes out, I’ve already eaten too much. Summer however helps herself to the Irish apple cake, twice.
Halfway through her second piece, her phone rings and she pulls it out of her chic handbag around the chair.
I eyeball it, curious who it is. The name Luna flashes across the screen. Summer grins down at her phone and pushes back her chair.
“Excuse me for a moment.” She hauls off toward the back hall.
Every fiber in my being wants to follow her. To be there when she hangs up the phone, drag her into my office, and kiss her senseless. But I also know her conversations with Luna make her happy, and I’d give anything to make sure she’s happy.
Lizzy grills me on my plans for the coming week, and we talk a bit of business. By the time Summer comes back, the dishes have been cleared and Cormac is teaching Aoife a card game that I should probably make sure isn’t poker.
She marches straight up to me, determined, and I love that expression on her face.
“How was yer phone call?” I ask.
She looks at me, eyes glassy. “It was good. I love hearing from her. I was so careful before, probably too careful. I cared more about protecting myself, yet again, than being a good sister.”
My hand drifts up to rub her shoulder.
“She—she asked if I could come visit her. So I could meet the boys.” When my hand pauses mid stroke, she rushes to continue. “Nik said he’d make sure security would be tight, and that he would be willing to go over everything with you. And I’d only be gone for as long as you say it’s okay?—”
I hold up a hand. “Summer, ye’re an adult. I’m not yer father.”
“I know,” she says. “But I respect you and what you’re doing for me here, I don’t want to come across as if I don’t care. Because I do.”
I scowl. Not at her, never at her. At myself. Every bone in my body screams to be selfish. To use what she just said against her. To not let her go in fear that she’ll choose to run instead. I know I can’t be selfish with her. In fact, I should’ve been the one to tell her to go in the first place.
She must take my silence as negative because she whispers out a plea. “Please, Kieran. You can come with me.”
The way she’s looking at me is pained, and her brows are drawn together as if she’s trying to figure out what’s going on in my head.
Truth is, I’d love to go with her. But with the uncertainty of Riku and Aoife in school, I’m not sure I should leave right now. Plus, I’m pretty sure she’s trying to find a way to go, even if she has to invite me along to do it.
“Summer.” I grab her left hand, fingering the ring that I wish I could permanently sear to her skin. Bleeding hell, Kieran. Now you’re a psycho. “Ye’re welcome to go anytime. I’ll have Licon assign a guard to go with ye, and I’ll speak with Nik. I don’t think it’s best I leave right now.”
“Oh,” she says, shoulders slumping slightly. She swallows. Hard. Did she want me to come? “Thank you.”
I don’t know who I am anymore. What kind of mob leader lets his fiancée out of his sight in today’s world? I trust the Bratva. I know Luka and Nik will guard her with their lives, and it’s because of that I’m comfortable letting her visit. It’s making sure she comes back that churns the food in my stomach.
The possibility of rejection is intimidating.