April 2025
Moving on, I have to tell you all about St. Patrick’s Day, or more specifically, the Sunday before. Sam and I were invited to family dinner with Finn’s parents, which was very thoughtful, but…it wouldn’t be at their home. The gathering would instead be at Finn’s uncle Conor’s home.
“That’s gonna be a hard pass,” Sam told me the week before. “We don’t even know this guy. They’re inviting us for dinner at his house, not their house, and I just…no.”
“Okay,” I said, smiling at him.
“I just want to be comfortable with my people.”
I understood what he meant.
Sunday dinners were normally reserved for family, which for us means we either have Dane and Aja over along with Sam’s parents and whatever kids can make it—theirs and ours—or we pick up Sam’s parents and go over to Aja and Dane’s and whatever number of kids will join us.
That Sunday, Sam’s folks were out of town visiting friends in New York, and all the kids had plans, so it was the four of us at a restaurant Dane liked downtown.
Sam had to go to work for a short time, as there were some interdepartmental shenanigans, and sometimes the people in charge would only take the word of the person at the top of the food chain.
Chris Decker had picked Sam up that afternoon, and I had driven later, closer to six.
When I got there, I got a text from Aja that said they were running just a bit behind, as Dane had his own work snafu, but they would be no more than ten minutes late.
I let the hostess know when I arrived and told her I just had to collect my husband from the bar.
Big smile from her as she said no problem, which was impressive, as the place was a zoo.
Making my way toward the bar, I got a rare sighting of Sam Kage alone in the wild.
He was in a very well-tailored Tom Ford suit, no tie, and I alone knew that he had an ankle holster on above his black dress shoes.
I looked around and saw all the people surveying the gorgeous specimen of a male that my husband was.
The broad shoulders, the height, the wide chest, and most importantly the square jaw and slate-blue eyes.
He was having an old-fashioned, leaning on the bar, and would have been, I was certain, fielding offers if not for a scowl that could peel paint.
People always talked about their golden retriever husbands on social media, and I wondered, dog-wise, how to describe Sam.
German shepherd maybe? He was fine with everyone until they did something stupid and had to be forcefully corrected.
What I loved more than anything was that when I stopped moving and stood still, and he scanned the crowd, looking for any of his people, the moment he saw me, you could read it all over him.
There was the smile I loved that warmed his eyes, softened his gaze, and curled his lips just slightly.
His body relaxed, it was like he sighed, and then, always, the lift of his hand as he gestured me over with fingers, the “come here” gentle, but still, a command.
When I reached him, there was the arm that went immediately around my shoulders as he brought me in close.
Tight. Tucking me up against his side. The moment I lifted to see his face; he bent and kissed me.
It was quick but solid, and when he eased back, I smiled up at him.
Smug male grunt then because he knew I was all his.
“Oh,” I gasped and stepped back from him. “I’m so sorry, I thought you were my husband. Pardon me.”
“Ha-ha, very funny,” he grumbled, taking hold of my bicep and pulling me in close again. “Yes, I’ve been in a bad mood for the past three days, but none of that has anything to do with you and you know it.”
I squinted up at him. “No more dragging your crap home from work, Chief Deputy, unless you plan to share and let me help fix it.”
He opened his mouth to say something and then closed it just as fast. “You know what, that’s fair, and okay. I do have some personnel issues I would like some input on.”
Reaching up, I wrapped both arms around his neck. “That’s what I’m talking about. Communication, my love.”
Another grunt before he kissed me again. That time there were lots of awwws from around us, and when I looked, several women on barstools were smiling at us. In contrast, a couple of men were scowling, and one of them was shaking his head.
I arched an eyebrow, because I was bulletproof at that moment. Nothing bothered me. I was standing in my husband’s arms. I could not have been any safer.
“Come on, man, you’re setting unrealistic expectations for the rest of us.”
I smiled at him, and he made a sweeping gesture with his hand as Aja and Dane joined us. Clearly, he wanted us all gone.
“Oh for crap’s sake,” another man muttered under his breath.
“Why are you making out at the bar?” Aja asked jovially, slipping under Sam’s arm as he lifted it for her.
I leaned sideways into Dane, who put his arm around me and gave me a quick clench before he let go.
“Hey,” Duncan said, unexpectedly there. “I know I begged off of this because Aaron was delayed in Ontario, but he’s back early because things went so much better than he thought they would so…we’re in a private room in the back. You all need to come with me.”
“Really?” Sam grumbled. “This is how you ask people to dinner?”
“Oh just hurry up,” Duncan groused at him. “Come eat.”
Surprisingly, Dane stepped forward, slipped his hand over Duncan’s shoulder, and told him to lead on.
Duncan gave the hand a pat before moving to the left toward the back.
It was nice that at the doors that led to a beautiful warm, candlelit room with a dining table and a small lounge area for after-dinner drinks, that after Duncan went in, Dane stopped and waited for Aja, who went next, then him, and Sam did the same, waiting on me, hand on the small of my back, guiding me inside before he entered last.
Aaron was sitting at the table, but stood when we got close, standing to greet us. He then came around the table, hugging each of us in turn, before he had us sit. Nice to see Sam go hug Dane before that, and my brother giving him one in return. I nearly cried looking at all of them.
“What’s wrong with you?” Aaron asked, sounding slightly peevish.
“Nothing,” I murmured.
“Did you not want to have––”
“I always want to spend time with you, so knock it off,” I scolded him.
He glanced at Sam, who grinned at him. “Nobody likes a drama queen, man. Don’t be one.”
Returning his gaze to me, Aaron smiled. “Forgive me. I forgot for a moment that you like me.”
I nodded. “Now let’s order some drinks, because Sam has an issue that he could use some input on, and I want to help him.”
“No,” Sam rushed out, “I don’t need everybody’s––”
“Oh.” Aja sounded excited. “Let’s get appetizers too so we can all focus.”
My husband shook his head a moment, but when he saw how interested everyone was, he sighed deeply and then explained how he thought he might need to kill a guy on his team—who I knew was Pazzi—and wanted to know if morale could be restored after murder.
Aaron was the first to chime in. “Actually, yes,” he assured Sam. “With enough other incentives and if everyone hates him.”
Sam was nodding.
“Stop that,” I ordered him.
“What?”
Dane was certain that Sam could make it look like an accident.
With a roll of her eyes, Aja then leaned forward. “He needs positive coaching.”
“You don’t think I’ve done that?” he asked, and then explained how he had Pazzi hang with two of his most veteran guys.
I shook my head. “No. He needs a mentor.”
“Probably, yes,” Dane agreed.
“What’s the difference between a coach, which he’s already had,” Sam stressed, “and a mentor?”
“A mentor must always be supportive,” Duncan told him. “They can be hard on you, if need be, but it’s like someone you can check in with and you don’t get dinged for it.”
“Like hitting pause,” Aja commented. “That’s what teaching assistants are supposed to be. And yes, they’re there to give the professor support, but more than that, they’re someone the students can go to, ask questions, and not lose face with their teacher.”
“All your newer guys should have one,” Aaron told him. “We have that program at Sutter. Someone who always has your back.”
Sam nodded. “Now I just need to figure out who, on my team, doesn’t want to murder him.”
“It’s probably someone you don’t immediately think of, and definitely not someone he directly reports to,” Dane offered. “Think outside the box.”
“Okay,” Sam agreed. “That was actually helpful.”
Aja chuckled. “We have our moments.”
Later, on the way home, Sam pulled over when we were nearly there and turned to me.
“Yes, dear?” I teased him.
“I just want you to know that I appreciate you, and that I don’t ever take the fact that you’re in my life, for granted.”
I squinted at him.
“What?” He sounded indignant. “I don’t.”
“I know you don’t,” I soothed him, reaching out to put my hand on his cheek. “What is this about?”
“Just so you know,” he grumbled, putting his hand over mine.
It hit me then. “Who’s getting divorced?”
After a moment he said, “The chief deputy in Boston. Nice guy, kids a bit younger than Hannah and Kola. He told me last week at our meeting in Manhattan.”
I gazed into his beautiful eyes and saw how sad he looked.
“I just—his wife told him he worked too much—and not even like this past month or even last year but for fuckin’ ever, ya know?
It just built up over time. Her and the kids got used to being without him, and now, as he contemplates retirement, his wife is divorcing him and the kids will of course choose their mother and he’s just left alone and––”
“And that is not you,” I said firmly, leaning in for the kiss.