Chapter Twenty Tristan
She was walking away. And I should have chased after her.
I wanted to. But…I needed to give her the out.
I stood there on the cobblestone street, just out of sight but close enough to see the flickers of emotion across Kieran and Adriana’s faces. Kieran, with his typically unreadable expression, gave nothing away as he listened to whatever Adriana was saying. Her hands moved like birds in animated flight, punctuating her words—a dance of frustration and fervor.
“Let’s take this inside,” I said, my voice cutting through their conversation as I stepped from the shadows of the townhouse. “Please.”
“Fucking why?” Adriana asked.
“Because the police is watching, and you could say something that gets you into trouble,” I said, gesturing toward the police car. “We can talk inside. If you still want to leave, then leave.”
The morning air was crisp, biting at the skin, but it was time to warm things up with truth, raw and unguarded.
“Fine,” Adriana acknowledged me with a nod, her eyes flashing a challenge that told me she wasn’t here for games. She brushed past me into the foyer, her scent—a mix of citrus and determination—lingering in the air between us.
Kieran followed, casting a sidelong glance that seemed to question everything and reveal nothing. I shut the door behind us, sealing us within the relative safety of our Boston sanctuary.
“Listen,” I started, locking gazes with Adriana, “there’s something we need to address.” My heart thudded against my ribs, not in fear, but in anticipation of laying bare the truths that had been shadowing us for too long.
“Adriana,” I began, my voice steady despite the tempest inside me, “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking—about us, about our future.” She stood there in the foyer, her arms crossed as though bracing for impact. “I love you. More than power, more than my own life. And our kids...” I paused, the weight of fatherhood settling on my shoulders like a mantle. “I want to be there for every scraped knee and nightmare, every triumph and setback.”
Her dark eyes studied me, wary yet expectant. I stepped closer, closing the distance between certainty and the unknown. “I’m tired of hiding, of pretending we’re anything less than what we are to each other. I want to marry you, Adriana. I want it so much that I’d march you to the courthouse this moment if you said yes.”
Her posture softened slightly, but she held her ground. “Tristan,” she replied, her voice tinged with exasperation, “you can’t just spring a proposal on me because you’re feeling cornered or out of some sense of duty.”
“It’s not pity, Ade,” I insisted, frustration seeping into my tone. “It’s not about duty. It’s about wanting you as my wife, officially, irrevocably.”
She sighed, a sound that tugged at something deep within me. “I can’t—won’t—get married without my family present. It’s not about the spectacle; it’s about honoring the people who shaped us. Can’t you understand that?”
I opened my mouth to say something about her father but bit my tongue.
My hands clenched involuntarily as I struggled to reconcile my need for action with her desire for tradition. “Of course, I understand,” I conceded, but the urgency within me refused to subside. “But can’t you see? I’m trying to protect us, to give us legitimacy in this cutthroat world we navigate.”
“Protection doesn’t require a ring, Tristan.” Adriana’s resolve was a testament to her strength, yet her refusal felt like a rebuke to my deepest intentions. “And I don’t think you want to give me one anyway.”
“Then what does it take?” The question hung between us, a challenge and a plea mingled together. “Tell me, Adriana. What does it take for you to see that all I want is for us to face this world as one?”
Kieran’s touch on my arm was gentle but firm, an unspoken signal that cut through the tension. He shook his head slightly; his dark hair, always unkempt, fell into his eyes, shadowing their true emotion. The message was clear: we were spiraling into a fruitless argument, and Adriana’s patience was wearing thin.
“Tristan,” Kieran began, his voice low and measured, “we’re chasing our tails here. Let’s step back for a second. There’s something else we need to consider.”
I met his gaze, finding an intensity there that was unusual even for him. “What are you getting at?”
“Family history,” he said cryptically, then nodded toward the antique box that sat on the kitchen island, its wood darkened with age and secrets. “We’ve been so caught up in... current events,” he glanced at Adriana, acknowledging the understatement, “that we’ve neglected this.”
“Since when are you interested in dusty old heirlooms?” I asked skeptically, unable to mask my confusion.
“Since it might offer us more than just nostalgia.” Kieran walked toward the kitchen. He stalked around the box, and his fingers grazed the surface of it, tracing the intricate carvings as though they might reveal their secrets to his touch alone. “There are stories, Tristan, legends even. They might have more to do with our family than you understand. This box could be the key to understanding them—and maybe even to securing our future. Securing the twins’ future.”
Adriana folded her arms, eyeing Kieran with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. “You think there’s something in there that can help us now? I thought you said it was useless.”
“Why would someone plant a box in Catherine’s old family cabin if it was useless? No, this isn’t useless,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I genuinely don’t believe it can be.”
“But we keep hitting a brick wall whenever we try to do something with it. Do you have any ideas?” I asked, quite aware he probably did not have any ideas.
“Potentially,” Kieran responded, his expression unreadable. “There’s a historian at Harvard, specializes in criminal legacies—mafia dynasties, specifically. He’s got a reputation for being able to unearth things others miss. And, well, he’s not hard on the eyes either, from what I’ve heard.”
“Is that supposed to sweeten the deal?” Adriana quipped, though a flicker of interest sparked in her eyes.
“Couldn’t hurt,” Kieran replied with a half-smile that rarely made an appearance.
“Kieran, is this really about the family history?” I pressed, trying to gauge his angle. His ideas were typically calculated, but this seemed almost impulsive.
“Isn’t everything we do about family history? Our actions today are tomorrow’s legends, brother.” Kieran’s tone held a rare sincerity that made me pause. “And if there’s a chance that this box holds answers about how to navigate the treacherous waters we find ourselves in, it’s worth exploring.”
“Alright,” I conceded, feeling the weight of Kieran’s words. “We’ll look into it. But this isn’t a distraction, Kieran. Not from this,” I gestured between myself and Adriana.
“Of course not,” Kieran assured. “Consider it an... additional avenue to explore. One that might just unite past and present, giving us the edge we need. And honestly, you guys might just need a little time. Things are really intense right now.”
“Alright, let’s have it then,” Adriana said, her eyes sharpening with focus as she reached for the box. She flipped a letter we’d already looked at in her hands. “What’s so special about this?”
Kieran leaned back, a calculated ease in his posture that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I don’t know. How about its location? It’s weird it was in the ground for no reason, right?”
“I guess,” Adriana said.
I watched them having this conversation as if she hadn’t almost broken up with me less than twenty minutes ago and my heart jackhammered in my chest.
“Look at the box itself,” Kieran said. “Looks like it’s full of secrets.”
“Secrets?” Her curiosity piqued, and I noticed the way her fingers lingered on the intricate carvings of the box. “Like what?”
“Like how to stay alive when everyone around you is playing for keeps.” Kieran’s response was cryptic, but it struck a chord.
“Is this about survival or history?” Adriana probed further, sensing there was more beneath the surface.
“Can’t it be both?” Kieran offered a noncommittal shrug. “I’m not particularly interested in dusty old tales. I am, however, very interested in not ending up dead. And if there’s wisdom in here that can prevent that, I want it.”
“Fair enough,” she conceded, her gaze flicking to me. “And you, Tristan? What’s your take?”
My head pounded. I fidgeted with the cuff of my shirt, suddenly feeling like I was under a spotlight. All I wanted was to keep her safe, to ensure we had a future, but Kieran’s sudden dive into our past made me uneasy.
“My take? Fuck, I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know how this keeps us alive. But hey, whatever it takes, right?”
Kieran’s eyes narrowed. For a second, I thought he was going to say something. But then he shrugged. “Yeah, lad, that’s right,” he said. “Whatever it takes.”