Chapter Twenty-Nine
ADRIAN
Boston
“Oh, come on,” I growled, watching my niece, Penelope, carefully lay out the cards in her hand, a shit-eating grin on her face that reminded me of Hutch’s. “You’ve gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”
“My girl knows her shit,” Hutch teased, helping his daughter rake the skittles from the pot in the center of the table into the pile sitting in front of her.
“Kid is a card shark,” Pops laughed, beaming as he watched his great-granddaughter. Today was a good day, but my mind still wandered to how Isobel was doing.
She’d been shaken after the whole book launch debacle, but thankfully Chase’s friends had tracked Evan down and gotten him on a plane by mid-morning. Sam was keeping me apprised by text, so I assumed Kristine was doing the same, but it killed me to respect Is’ wishes and give her some space.
“Quit being a pussy and take your cards.” Hutch’s teasing broke the trance I was in, and I laughed as Ma yelled from the other room.
“And you, Hutchins O’Neill, need to keep yah mouth shut around yah impressionable daughta’.” It still amused me that after all these years, my Ma’s accent had never changed. I would have thought working in an emergency room downtown would’ve made her adapt, but she was Southie born and bred.
“I don’t think she realizes Pen goes to a public school,” Hutch laughed while Pops shook his head.
“He’s right,” his almost thirteen-year-old agreed, “And Donny’s way worse than you guys.”
Hutch frowned, looking irritated as his jaw clenched. Donny had once been his best friend, but when he’d slept with Hutch’s wife while he was recovering after the failed mission that took part of his leg in a hospital in Germany, that friendship had imploded even more spectacularly than an IED.
“Is that so?” he asked, and Penny’s eyes widened when she realized her dad was not pleased with that information.
Deciding to change the subject, I asked Penelope about what she’d been doing lately, and her plans for summer break.
“Ma wants me to keep taking dance lessons, but ballet is boring as fuck.”
“Penelope Ann O’Neill, watch yah mouth,” Ma scolded from the kitchen, clearly still eavesdropping with her hawklike ears.
“I changed the box on the application for summer dance to hip hop. She’ll probably lose her…” she trailed off, mouthing the word shit . “But since she’s too busy puking up her guts right now, she won’t know until the end of the summer recital. I also got Dad to enroll me in the babysittin’ course at the Y. Then I can start makin’ some money, so I don’t have to beg her for an allowance.”
“You shouldn’t lie to your mother,” Pops scolded, studying the cards in his hand. “Even if she is a cheating cun—“
“Liam Patrick, don’t even think about it,” Ma yelled again, and we all started laughing.
It wasn’t a secret that no one in this household, including Pen, was a fan of Helena Parker, formerly O’Neill.
“Where’s Isobel?” Hutch asked when we started playing again, skittles clinking against the surface of the dented table in the den as we all called.
“Who’s Isobel?” Pops asked, looking between us.
Fuck.
“Adrian’s lady friend from work. They’ve been bangin’ out a project together,” Hutch answered, smirking as he gave me an out from having to explain who she was. I was afraid to mention the baseball game, knowing he’d get agitated if he didn’t remember. But he surprised me.
“Oh yeah. The one from the Sox game. You should bring her around sometime,” Pops suggested, never looking up from his cards. “She was too good for you, but I liked her.”
“I’ll be sure to do that,” I agreed, wishing he’d have more lucid days so he might meet his grandchild next year. I hated he didn’t initially remember meeting Isobel, but he’d pretty much given me his seal of approval at the game that day, so I knew he’d like her.
Part of me was eager for her IUD to get removed, so we could start trying for real instead of getting in lots of practice, but the other part of me was scared shitless. What if—despite our test results—it didn’t happen? If I couldn’t knock her up, would she break up with me? Would she find a donor?
While I would absolutely raise another man’s child if it came to that, I wanted her child to be mine.
“Your call,” Hutch said, waving his hand in front of my face.
“Fold.” Tossing my cards into the center of the table, I stood and shoved my phone into my pocket. “I think I’m gonna head home. Do you need me to give Pen a ride to Lena’s?”
“Nah.” Hutch waved me off. “I’ll walk her back. It’s nice out today, and it’s only a few blocks.”
Nodding, I popped into the kitchen to say goodbye to Ma, taking the container of leftovers she shoved into my hands.
As I headed back toward the city, I briefly thought about detouring to Isobel’s apartment to make sure she’d eaten today, but knew I would see her in the morning.
Evan called two weeks into the book tour, and I hesitated to pick up, since I was waiting for Isobel to meet me for lunch.
“Hey, what’s up, man? Everything going alright?” Despite the major hiccup the weekend the tour began, Evan had done surprisingly well so far. After pictures of the two authors kissing surfaced on Instagram after their first signing, I’d thought things would get dicey, but people loved it.
“I need your help,” he whispered.
“What the hell is going on? Are you in trouble or something? Do I need to send bail money?”
“No,” he whispered again, his voice getting louder when he continued. “Everything is fine with the tour, but I need you to arrange something in New York.”
“Okay? Hit me with it. What do you need?”
“Can you arrange a dinner for the last night, after the signings downtown?”
“Yeah, we sometimes have a celebration dinner at the end of the tour, but are you sure you don’t want to wait until Boston?”
“It has to be New York. I’ll send you an email with what I need.”
“Why all the cloak and dagger?”
“I want to propose to Chase.” Stunned, I sat back in my chair, rubbing my hand over the scruff on my chin. Holy shit.
I’d questioned her motives before the tour, and he’d been quick to put me in my place, but I hadn’t realized he was serious when he’d told me he wanted to marry her.
“You still there?” he asked, suddenly sounding nervous.
“Uh, yeah. Congratulations, I guess. If you send me the details this afternoon, I can get the ball rolling.”
“Thank you,” he sighed. “If you can arrange things on your end, I’ll try to get Sam on board. As long as I can keep Kristine from killing him before then.”
“Things going that well?” I laughed, knowing that my intern was more than capable of putting Isobel’s in her place. Not that she’d make it easy for him.
“Everything’s great so far, but after the mix-up in Denver, she’s been a bit feral.”
“Not surprising.” She’d ripped me a new one when the rooms were mixed up at the hotel and she had to share with Sam. It broke all kinds of protocol with the company travel guidelines, but we hadn’t had any other choice.
Isobel appeared in my doorway, tilting her head as she pointed at my phone. I mouthed Evan , and she frowned, so I knew I needed to get him off the phone to fill her in.
“I’ll get everything set and email you details once everything is ready. Safe travels to your next stop.”
“What’s going on?” Is asked as she sat in the chair across from my desk. “Do we need to cancel lunch to fix an issue?”
“Nah, it’s not anything urgent. Evan wants to propose while we’re in New York. He asked me to set up a dinner. He’s sending me details in an email this afternoon.”
“Propose?” she whispered, eyes wide. “This soon? They barely know each other.”
“Like we can talk,” I chuckled, standing from my desk and sitting on the arm of the chair she occupied.
“But we’ve known each other for five years.”
“Is, you hated me for most of that time. We’ve only really been together about the same amount of time as they have and we’re planning to have a kid together. I don’t know why you’re so shocked.”
As I stroked her cheek, she nodded, her eyes distant. “I guess,” she finally sighed. “But it all just seems so sudden. What if things don’t work out?”
I wasn’t sure if she was talking about them or us, but either way, I knew things were serious for both parties. “Things will work out how they’re supposed to. Have a little faith.”
“I don’t know if I can,” she whispered, leaning her face into my palm.
“Then I’ll have enough for the both of us.”