Chapter 29
RAPH
“I have to find her, Gio,” I whisper as we sit in a small ice cream shop on the Upper East Side.
Sophia is across from us, humming to a song she’s listening to on my cell. Her pigtails bounce and she bobs her head, digging her spoon into her funfetti gelato.
“I’ve got a guy on it,” he whispers, glancing at her as she peeks up curiously.
I swear that kid should be a detective.
“Who?”
“Grant.”
“Westfield?” I ask.
“Yep. I told him to keep it discreet, and he’s on it personally.”
Grant is Gio’s friend from business school.
He runs Westfield Enterprises, a tech company producing a popular brand of cell phones and memory chips.
They even have their hands in artificial intelligence.
Rumor is, he once hacked the CIA when he was in high school.
His dad is a senator and paid to cover it up.
“If anyone can find her, it’s Grant,” he assures me.
I rub a hand down my face. “If he needs anything in return, tell him to come to me. I’ll do anything to find her.”
“Appears so.” He tilts up his mouth. “In love with her already?”
“If I’m being honest with myself, I’ve been in love with her for longer than I should’ve been.”
“You say it like it’s a bad thing.”
“She’s young.”
“So? And you’re old.” He grins at me, and I scowl. “Look, man, you only live once. And if she makes you happy, then that’s all you need to concentrate on.”
Distantly, I stare straight into absolutely nothing, my mind already giving me twenty reasons why she and I can’t be together. But none of them seem good enough anymore. Not compared to a lifetime with her.
Gio continues. “There are people right now who are stuck with someone their own age while wishing that person got hit by a truck. So consider yourself lucky.”
“You’re very insightful.”
He flips a hand. “I get it from Ma.”
His cell rings, and when he reaches into his pocket and sees the name, he stares hard at it for a few seconds then smiles real big.
“Hey, Red. Miss me already?”
“Not even if you were the last man on earth,” a woman’s irritated voice booms from the line.
I stifle a laugh. Ah, Iseult. This won’t end well.
“Didn’t seem that way when you were begging me for—”
“If you finish that sentence, I’m bound to take your head off, and it won’t be painless.”
“Promise?” He smirks.
“Where are you?” she shoots off.
“Why? You jealous?”
“No…” She pauses. “You’re marrying my sister. I’m making sure you’re being faithful. To her.”
“Faithful, huh? I guess that doesn’t include her own sister?”
“I’m not doing this.” Her voice tightens. “My father and I are going to be at Michael’s shortly. I expect you not to be there.”
Humor meets his eyes. “Is that so? Well, now I’m definitely coming, and so will you when I get there.”
“Gio!” she scolds.
“Don’t pretend it won’t happen. I’m going to keep my lap warm for you.”
“I’m sure my father would have a lot to say about that.”
“You’re right. But luckily for us, there are lots of empty rooms at Michael’s, and some are even soundproof.”
“I’m going now.”
“I’ll see you later, baby.” He glances over at me with a laugh. “Hello?” He removes the phone from his ear and stares down at it. “Well, seems like my future wife has hung up on me.”
“You mean your future sister-in-law?” I slap him on the shoulder. “Seems to me you and I have had the same luck, stuck with one sister when you want the other.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not marrying Eriu. She’s a nice girl, don’t get me wrong, but I have no interest in her.” He hits me with a hard stare. “I won’t go through with it.”
“How will you manage to get out of it?”
“I’m going to have to figure out a way to convince their father that an alliance can be made if I married Iseult. Though convincing her of that may be an even harder task.”
“Stubborn?”
“Like you wouldn’t fucking believe.”
As soon as we step foot into Michael’s, about forty-five minutes from the city, Patrick and Iseult are already there. She runs a finger through her bright red waves, and now I see where Gio’s nickname for her came from.
“Boys, it’s nice to see you.” Patrick greets us with a shake of a hand, his black blazer tugging around his arms. “We just walked in.”
“Thank you for coming,” Michael adds, standing beside Ma, who’s looking anywhere but at Patrick.
“And who might you be, little miss?” Patrick kneels down to Sophia’s height.
“My name is Sophia, and who are you?” She angles a curious gaze, propping a hand on her hip.
“I’m Patrick, and those three knuckleheads standing over there…” He tilts his head toward his sons at the far end of the room. “They’re my sons, and this is my daughter, Iseult.”
“Oh! So you’re from Ireland? Fionn said he’d take me for a visit.”
Patrick chuckles, righting himself. “Did he now? Well, we’d love to have you all the next time we go for a visit. My mom would cook you up a feast.” He gazes at my mother then. “I bet she’d love to see you again, Fernanda.”
My mother’s cheeks turn bright red.
“You two know each other?” My curious gaze snaps between them.
Mom does a fine job of avoiding me.
“We did,” Patrick explains. “A long time ago.” He smiles fondly. “We were just kids back then, weren’t we?” His gaze softens as he looks at Mom.
“Yeah,” she replies nervously, pulling on her purple blouse. “Why are we all…uh…still standing here? Come on, let’s eat.”
She waves everyone over and starts toward the dining room.
“Very gracious of you,” Patrick adds, pacing over to her and whispering something.
“What the hell is that about?” Gio asks quietly as we watch them.
“No clue.”
“Looks like Patrick is looking for another kind of marriage alliance.”
Gio finds it amusing, but I don’t. Mom doesn’t need another man like that in her life. Though I never heard about Patrick having affairs on his late wife.
We step into the dining room, and when Iseult grabs a chair and Gio attempts to sit beside her, she nonchalantly moves to settle next to her brothers.
He chuckles under his breath, but doesn’t say a word, taking an empty one next to Mom.
Once everyone settles and begins to eat, Patrick breaks the ice. “Your father, he’s still not talking?”
“No,” I tell him, picking up my glass of whiskey and basking in the burn scorching down my throat as I take a gulp. “And he won’t. He won’t do a thing to help me. He’d much rather see me suffer.”
“He never was a good man. I only tolerated him for the sake of peace.” Patrick picks up the amber-filled decanter, pouring whiskey into his own glass.
“But this ends now. What he’s done is a sin.
You and I, we may have our differences, but your father, he’s the true cancer in your family, and I’ll gladly end his life like I should’ve years ago.
” His eyes go to my mother again, and they settle there as his nostrils flare, his exhale rough, before his eyes snap back to me. “I want a visit with him today.”
“Patrick,” Mom says this time. “He won’t talk to you.” Her brows snap. “If anything, he will get angrier that you’re here, and he definitely won’t talk.”
“Let him get angry,” he grits. “But I’ll have a word with him, and you’ll have to accept that.”
“Fine.” That one word is a sharp bite, and they stare at one another for long seconds before he wrenches his gaze away.
“After we eat, then?” he asks Michael.
“I have plans today, and they’re important,” Michael adds. “Tomorrow?”
“We can do that.” Patrick nods. “Been a while since I’ve been to the city. I’m looking forward to the view.”
And at that, his gaze takes in my mother, and there’s a glint in his eyes that wasn’t quite there before.