Chapter 20
GRAYSON
The church glows under the candlelight lining the altar.
The soft halos flicker onto the gold leaf and marble.
Wreaths hang from every archway, the pine scent mixing with the sweet tang of incense and the perfume from those dressed in their Christmas Eve best. Voices rise and fall with each hymn the choir lilts.
The tone is warm and surprisingly comforting as I slide into the last wooden pew.
My jacket crinkles as my gun scrapes along the cold bench, but thankfully there are several unfilled rows between me and anyone else.
From here, I can see them, my whole family lined up in a pew near the front. Their backs are straight, hymn books open. They don’t look back, and I’m glad. I’m not sure why I came, to torture myself watching families sit together shoulder to shoulder.
Used to think Reed and the department were family after mine rejected me. I snort to myself during a loud soprano crescendo.
I look around, pulling my trench coat closer to me. I don’t have this. Sure, I’ve got the last name, but I don’t have the kind of family that you spend Christmas Eve with.
I wonder about Aoife, where she’s sitting tonight.
Probably wedged between her father and Summer surrounded by the Irish family at O’Brien’s.
Her father showed up, willing to go to bat for his daughter.
I still don’t care for the idea he prompted this life for her, but she’s content and growing into her role.
I’ve seen it over these few weeks being around her.
I’ve come to accept the ache that comes with the understanding that I might never have a family of my own.
My niece twists in my sister-in-law’s arms before she pops over her shoulder. Her face glows in the dim light shrouding the church, but her little eyes lock on mine. She doesn’t wave or call out, just a polite smile that you’d give a stranger because that’s who I am to her. A stranger.
I swallow, the scents around me burning my throat.
I shouldn’t be here. I don’t want to be here.
I want to hang Christmas lights on my tree with Aoife.
To wrap a bunch of empty boxes just to watch her curiously touch and shake each one.
To know what she wants to snack on and what Christmas movie she’d pick.
I—
The wooden pew creaks as someone sits next to me.
I glance down, annoyed they’re going to see me sneak out before the service is over, but then I catch the riding boots and the black leather pants wrapped around legs I’ve spent too much time staring at over the past several weeks.
My head snaps up to find Aoife, staring straight ahead, a relaxed smile gracing her lips as she listens to the choir start “O Come, All Ye Faithful.” As I look at her, two more people slide in next to her.
Kieran and Summer both sit down, and I can’t help but stare.
Kieran glances over at me and dips his chin, then places his arm around Summer as they sit back to watch the choir.
My gaze shifts back to Aoife, her head tilted like she’s enjoying the Christmas music.
The curve of her cheek, the slope of her nose, the way her lashes fan out over her face when she blinks.
I can’t look away. Her lips mouth some of the words to the song, and I focus on the little flutter at the base of her neck when she swallows.
How is she here? Why is she here?
Her long hair falls around her shoulders, and she pushes it back before resting a palm on my thigh.
It’s unfair, the delicate touch sending me reeling even though she’s not looking at me.
Finally. Finally, she glances over, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth and giving my thigh a light squeeze.
She leans her head over to my shoulder, dropping it there, positioning her mouth so her breath floods my ear.
“You’re not alone, Grayson. Not anymore. ”
Aoife grabs my hand and pulls me through the doors of O’Brien’s.
It’s filled with twists of velvety red and strings of white lights that swish along the bar.
Members of the Irish and their families pack the place while Christmas music competes to stay relevant over the plentiful conversation.
Glasses of hot whiskey, Guinness, and half-eaten mince pies crowd the tables.
The tingle from the cold finally nips away in the warmth of the bar. I hadn’t planned on staying for the rest of the service, but when Aoife and her parents sat down with me, it felt right, and we enjoyed it together.
Laughter booms from behind the bar; those working are enjoying the festivities. Beer, cinnamon, the crisp of the cold, snowy Boston from the rush of air entering when the door opens—all the smells invade my senses.
Aoife finally drops my hand and turns to me. “What do you want to drink?”
I stare into those bright blue eyes, struck by how one day without seeing them makes me suffer. “I’d rather find somewhere to talk,” I say.
She nods. “We can go to my office.”
I follow her through the crowd, nodding to several people, including Ace, who’s laughing with others at the bar. The music and chatter fade as we make our way down the hallway where she scans into her office and shuts the door.
She turns, and I step into her, consumed by the thought of finally being alone with her.
She gasps, falling back into the door. My mouth lands on hers, and I kiss her.
She tastes like spiced rum and sweet citrus, and I groan, finally having her body pressed to mine again.
I nip her lower lip before releasing her.
“Why come tonight? How did you know I’d be there? ”
“I told you. You’re not alone.” She smiles, but then it falls, and my brows dip.
No. No. Why is she frowning? “Your words have haunted me since you said them. I know you don’t know how this works, but …
there’s room for you here, Grayson. There’s room for you here with me.
Alongside me. I never pictured myself with someone, not really.
I figured I’d succumb to the pressure to carry on the O’Donnell name at some point and marry out of an alliance, but I didn’t think I’d fall in love with a detective while sitting in your car and sharing donuts or looking at Christmas lights.
That wasn’t in my plans. But with you, I’m just Aoife.
I can breathe. I’m safe. And I’m too selfish to let that go, to let you go. ”
I fight the grin pleading for escape and settle on a lighthearted smile despite my heart feeling anything but light. It’s heavy with emotion, desire, and love. The opposite of the emptiness I started the month with.
“I was wrong,” I say, hauling her close.
She looks up at me through her thick lashes. “About what?”
I cup her face, brushing a thumb along her cheek. “I do know how this works and how it ends.”
“Oh, yeah? How’s that?”
“With you and me. For the long haul.”