24. Scarlett
Chapter 24
Scarlett
I t seems that Cian kissing me sets off some kind of alarm because within a minute, we’re surrounded by people.
Saoirse seems the most surprised. “Oh my gosh, Cian, what are you doing?”
I hear someone else ask, “Henry, you okay, man?” and Henry laugh.
At which point Cian finally lifts his head and looks into my eyes, still holding my face between his hands, “We’re not done talking about this.”
“That wasn’t talking,” I say softly.
“I communicated my feelings though, didn’t I?”
Um, definitely.
I’m still freaked out about the idea that the woman he’s supposed to marry is Astrid Olsen. But the more I think about it, the more that makes sense. If his grandfather is going to set him up to marry someone, it makes sense that it’s someone close to the family. Astrid’s family and Cian’s family are very close. Her grandfather was Diarmuid’s best friend.
I take a deep breath, then turn with Cian to face our little crowd.
“Everyone, this is Scarlett,” he says.
They all just look at us. Everyone gathered around already knows my name.
“Scarlett and I met almost two years ago,” he adds. “I’ve been looking for her.”
His words seemed to take a few seconds to sink in, but once they do, everyone gasps, laughs, and steps forward to further surround us.
I don’t remember all the names except that most of their last names is Landry. But there were two people in the crowd that I recognize easily. Charlotte and Amelia. Princess Abigail’s sisters. I know who they are because of photos on the podcast website from the wedding.
The whole surreal is-this-really–happening feeling hits me again. But now everyone knows that Cian and I are together, so I decide to just go with it.
‘Going with it’ means I end up at the big back table of Ellie’s bar.
Cian is sitting right next to me. I mean right next to me. His thigh is pressing against mine. He has his arm draped over the back of my chair and his chest is against my shoulder.
And I love it.
We haven’t been able to be “public” together before and this feels so nice. Normal.
This time the place is packed with family, adopted family, and significant others. Honestly, the bar can barely hold any additional people when the entire Landry clan shows up.
It’s loud, boisterous, and the feeling of being automatically included in a group who wants to feed me, and know everything about me, and are just happy to have me here is nearly overwhelming.
In a good way.
If someone had asked me how I’d feel about a situation like this and I would have imagined it, I probably would have assumed that I’d hate it.
But I don’t. I really don’t.
It’s not like they’re all laid back or that they clearly know boundaries or anything like that. They all talk at once. They give each other shit. And while there are a few quieter members of the group, as a whole they are loud.
And they laugh a lot.
They’re also nosey as hell. But I find myself smiling and laughing and telling them far more than I would have expected.
They want to know all about me. And how Cian and I met. And why I haven’t seen him in so long. And how I feel about seeing him again now.
So I tell them about Mariah and Ruby. I tell them about growing up in a small town in Ohio. I tell them my dad is a preacher but that we don’t get along but that my stepdad was amazing and that yes, I get along great with my mom.
I tell them about how Cian and I met when I was pretending to be my sister, stripping in New Orleans. Cian fills in details as well. And they take it all in stride.
I tell them that I missed him and thought about him all the time and that I’m happy he came to find me and that I’ve enjoyed every minute of having him back in my life. And I look at him when I say that because I haven’t told him that in so many words and I realize I should have.
I can’t remember the last time I felt this way.
It’s possible I have never felt this way.
The last time I was included in a big group was at church. My dad’s church. And that group was hardly warm and boisterous. Everybody seemed to be welcoming, but the reason that we all got together was to hear instructions about how we were supposed to live our lives, how we were supposed to think, how we were supposed to interact with other people in the world.
At the time, it seemed we were a select, special group. That we were being let in on universal secrets. That somehow we had been specially chosen.
Now, knowing the truth—that was all about obedience and conforming—I realize there was a coldness and tension in the group.
There was always a sense that you could easily do something wrong or step out of line.
Something I found out personally when I fell in love and ended up pregnant.
Now, with the Landrys, who have literally known me for only a few hours, I feel none of that. I honestly felt like I could blurt out any flaw and they would laugh, nod, and share their own fuck-ups with me.
“How old is Mariah?” the woman sitting to my right asks. I can’t remember if this is Juliet or Jordan. I’m pretty sure it’s one of the J names though.
“Mariah’s almost sixteen.”
“She’s amazing,” Cian adds. “She’s bright, funny, sarcastic. She would absolutely love hanging out down here.” He looks to his left where Saoirse is sitting.
She’s hardly let him out of her sight all day and I think that’s incredibly sweet. Obviously, she’s missed him.
“She knows all about you,” Cian tells her. “She wants to meet you someday.”
Saoirse sits up a little taller, her eyes wide. “How does she know about me?”
“She listens to Wait ’Til I Tell Ye . She’s fascinated with the animal park and all of that. Plus, she found out that you were working with Bennett as a spokesperson for the climate change thing. She thinks you’re cool. She wants to study some great stuff at college and travel around and do big work. I think you guys will be best friends.”
My throat tightens and I have to blink quickly as Saoirse starts asking questions about Mariah and Cian gushes about her.
She’s instantly interested in my daughter, and of course that’s because of Cian’s endorsement. But also, I think Cian’s right. They would get along. And Mariah wouldn’t have any of the bullshit here that hangs over her head in Emerald because of my past.
“What do you do, Scarlett?” another of the women at the table asks. I don’t even try to come up with her name. There are just so many people here.
“I’m a mechanic, actually. My stepdad owned the garage in our town and taught me, then left it to me when he passed.”
“Holy shit, that’s amazing,” the woman says.
I laugh. “Is it?”
“That you can fix cars and stuff? Absolutely.” She looks down the table. “Sawyer, Scarlett’s a mechanic.” She turns back to me. “Sawyer’s the one who keeps all of our engines running.”
“Out of necessity,” the big man says. “Somebody has to fix the boats and trucks to keep the business going.” But he gives me a grin.
I shake my head. “I don’t know anything about boats.”
He lifts a shoulder. “It’s not that different. I’m sure you’d pick it up.”
I might actually. I’m actually pretty good with mechanical things.
But I realize that there’s a bigger difference between what I do and what Sawyer does. It’s not about the engines or vehicles themselves. It’s about the why behind it. Sawyer probably loves his job because of why he does it. He’s doing it for his family, for the business, because fixing those machines is part of something bigger that really matters to him.
I’m doing it because I need to make money and to prove a point to the town.
I like being able to help people out when they have car trouble and need a tow or need a flat changed. I know how scary being stranded can be. But ninety-nine percent of the tiny bit of business I get are oil changes and tire rotations and basic maintenance. Things a dozen other people in the area could do. And it doesn’t make me feel excited or fulfilled.
It was different for Brian. Because he did it for true friends and neighbors. He was a part of the community, and his business was important. That’s not my situation in Emerald.
That’s a startling realization to have sitting in a bar in Louisiana. But it’s true. I told myself going back to Emerald to run the shop was my way of showing the town I wanted to be a contributing member of the community but…that’s not how it’s working out.
“You should come down to the docks and take a tour tomorrow,” the woman says. She looks at Cian. “Spend the night tonight. Have breakfast with us and then take her on the bayou tomorrow.”
“I have a boat taken apart,” Sawyer says. “I’d be happy to show it to you.”
I have no intention of ever fixing a boat, but I have to admit it might be kind of interesting. More than anything though, I love this feeling of being included.
I look at Cian and he grins. “Want to see the swamp?”
I want to stay here longer. I want to hang out tonight. Eat more of this jambalaya that is hands-down the best I’ve ever had. Drink more sweet tea. Maybe something stronger. Get to know these people better. Hear more stories. Maybe get a selfie of me with Saoirse to send to Mariah. Maybe even video chat with Mariah with Saoirse. I’d be a damned hero to my daughter. Enjoy hanging out in public with Cian where he can touch me and kiss me and we can be a couple in front of other people. And hell yeah, I want to see him captaining a swamp boat.
“I do,” I tell him.
His gaze drops to my mouth. “I like hearing those words from you.”
I blush and open my mouth to reply, but one of the guys asks, “Hey, yeah, what do you think of this plan for Cian to marry Astrid?”
“Owen!” the pretty blonde next to him exclaims, then elbows him in the side.
“Ow!” he protests. “Dammit, Maddie, you know those ribs are sore.”
“Your own fault,” she says. “You knew better than to take the ATV out there and did it anyway.”
“Wow,” one of the brunettes says, throwing a biscuit at him.
He catches the biscuit and starts putting butter on it. “What? I wasn’t the only one on the ATVs.” He shoots a look down the table, but it’s very difficult to know who else he’s indicating was involved in the shenanigans.
“I mean bringing up Astrid in front of Scarlett,” the biscuit-thrower says.
He takes a bite of the biscuit. “I’m just curious how that’s all gonna work.” He points the biscuit at her. “And I know you are too.”
The brunette looks at the blonde. “Can’t you control him?”
The blonde laughs. “Oh sure. If I could, we wouldn’t have a fucking alligator coming up into our yard to be fucking hand fed every fucking morning, trust me.”
“You should divorce him. None of us know why you put up with him,” someone else says.
She grins up at Owen, who looks down at her with unabashed love. “Well, there are a few reasons that outweigh the crazy. So far .”
He leans down and says something in her ear. She blushes but laughs. “Yeah, that’s on the list.”
He straightens, grinning a very smug grin.
I can feel my own grin stretching bigger than I think I’ve smiled in a long time.
“See why I love it here?” Cian says near my ear.
I suddenly feel tears stinging my eyes. I simply nod. God, he could have this all the time, but he’s hanging out in Emerald with me. Pretending to be someone else. Hiding out because I don’t want anyone to know who he is.
Here, no one seems to care that he's a prince. He’s just one of them.
“ Anyway,” Owen says. “ You should marry him, right?”
I feel my eyes widen as I realize he’s looking directly at me.
Many heads around the table nod up and down. As if it’s just that simple.
“I’m not really princess material,” I tell them. My go-to line now.
Someone else snorts. “Trust me, Abigail is not princess material. If she can do it, anyone can.”
Lots of affectionate laughter follows that statement.
And I smile. I know there was a lot of discussion about Abigail being shy, having social anxiety, preferring her plants to people, how she’s more comfortable in muddy rubber boots and blue jeans than high heels and ball gowns.
But she wants to make people’s lives better. She wants to, literally, get her hands dirty solving problems. She doesn’t want to talk about it in public, maybe, but she’s doing so many great things.
That’s pretty princess-y to me.
“And hell, Cian isn’t exactly prince material,” someone else says.
I feel Cian chuckle next to me—feel it, versus hear it over all the other commotion in the room.
And I know he’s said basically the same thing. That I wouldn’t have to be a princess, exactly. And that he doesn’t live at the palace—which is more obvious now—and I know that Torin and Abigail have the official titles and responsibilities.
But…something about the way everyone also nods along to that sentiment, that everyone seems to just agree that Cian is very un princely, suddenly rubs me the wrong way.
Because what is a prince really?
Someone who takes care of others, who serves others, who leads. But leading doesn’t have to be with words. It can be by example.
Isn’t that what I’ve wanted to do in Emerald? Show them that I’ve changed. Show them how to live a good, honorable life. Show them how to live by all the principles the church teaches rather than just preaching about it, guilting people into doing the right thing? Show people how to love, how to be generous, how to serve.
Mariah’s words come back to me from the night in my kitchen not even a week ago.
I’m talking about the amazing things we could do. And the people we’d get to know! Look at Abigail! Her indoor farms are going to feed so many kids! And Princess Fiona saves endangered animals! And Linnea is working on green energy projects! And even Princess Saoirse has started doing some work as a spokesperson for a youth climate change group!
All of them are doing things that, by any measure I would apply, show they are true servants and real leaders.
I suddenly blurt out, “Cian is absolutely a prince. He’s kind and generous and really wants to make other people’s lives better. He’s starting a charitable foundation. We’re going to run it together.”
Conversation stops and I feel Cian tense beside me.
I have no idea what they were talking about or what I interrupted. Maybe plans for Cian and Astrid’s wedding.
Well, too bad.
“Cian’s doing what ?” Fiona asks.
I look at Cian. He’s looking at me with an expression that clearly says what the hell are you doing?
I drop my hand to his thigh and squeeze, giving him a smile. Then I turn to Fiona.
“He’s starting a foundation. He’s been building communities for single moms all over the country. The first one is right here in New Orleans. The foundation is going to continue to support that project but we’re going to expand into other things as well.”
“Communities for single moms,” Fiona repeats. She looks at her brother. “What is this?”
Cian’s hand moves from the back of my chair to the back of my neck. He squeezes gently. I don’t know if it’s a gesture of happiness that I’ve agreed to do this with him, or a warning that I better not say anything more.
“It’s a project I put together after I met Scarlett.”
That’s all he says. Fiona’s brows lift. “What project?”
“Just a little thing Scarlett and I came up with.”
She looks back and forth between us.
I finally laugh. He said he didn’t want me being so quiet about things. I am not keeping my mouth shut about this. “It’s not little. And it’s amazing. I helped brainstorm the idea, but Cian made it all happen.” I feel a lightness fill me as I launch into a description of Scarlett Park.
Everyone at the table stays quiet throughout my explanation.
“There are others like it. All over.” I don’t really know where they all are. “And we’re going to establish more. And expand into other things.”
“Like what?” Fiona asks. She seems completely fascinated.
I shrug. “Whatever we find people need.”
I feel Cian’s hand tighten on my neck. I look up at him. He’s staring at me with clear happiness. And desire.
“Cian, I had no idea that you’d done that. Why didn’t you tell us?” Fiona asks.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know. It didn’t come up.” He looks down at me again. “I wasn’t sure where it was all going to go. I needed to recruit the right person to be president. To help me lead it. Now that I have, we can really get things rolling.”
I feel that light, warm feeling spread. We really have endless possibilities. That’s how this feels, and it feels so good .
“That’s really fucking cool,” Owen tells him. “Good for you, man.”
Cian tips his head. “Thanks.” His eyes go to his sister. “I have a soft spot for single moms who need a little extra help.”
Fiona looks choked up. “Oh…wow.”
Cian’s hand squeezes me again and I look up quickly to find that his eyes look a little shiny too.
Oh my God. This is so… great.
“Where is the place in New Orleans?” one of the guys at the end of the table asks.
Cian gives him the address but then says, “But it’s not a tourist spot. I don’t want a bunch of people over there or driving past. It’s their home.” He sounds very firm and a little protective.
“No, of course,” the guy says. I think his name is Mitch. “But if you ever need any help with maintenance or repairs or anything, you know you can just ask, right?”
“Same here,” one of twins with long hair and beards says. He’s the one Cian does construction with sometimes, but I can’t remember if he’s Zeke or Zander. “I’m happy to help out.”
Cian swallows hard and nods. “Thanks, guys.”
“Where’s your next one going to be?” one of the women asks.
“I’m not—” Cian starts.
“Columbus,” I say. “Ohio.”
Cian looks down at me. I just hold his gaze. Then he slowly nods as his smile spreads. “Yeah. Columbus. Near Emerald.”
“That’s just so…” Suddenly Fiona is up out of her chair and around the table and hugging Cian from behind.
He puts a hand over hers and squeezes her back.
“I’m proud of you, man,” Knox, Fiona’s husband, says.
Now Cian almost looks bashful.
Oh, God.
If sexy, charming Cian makes me say yes to things I shouldn’t, and dirty talking, bossy Cian can get my panties off in less than ten seconds, and sweet, playful Cian has been slowly working his way into my heart, and quietly charitable Cian has made me rethink almost everything, then proud-choked-up-bashful Cian is going to make it impossible for me to resist him.
After Fiona releases him and everyone has finished with their effusive praise, Cian leans over and says in my ear, “You agreeing to lead my foundation is so fucking hot.”
I lean into him. “You creating a foundation for me to lead is pretty fucking hot too. Now that it’s sunk in.”
“Though you telling my family about it…”
I tip my face up to meet his gaze. “Was very appropriate. They should know. Everyone should know, Cian. Not because you need the praise—though you deserve it—but because your name will bring in donors and volunteers and will give it a legitimacy that we need to get started.”
“I suppose you think I should reward you for all of that?” he murmurs.
“Well… I’m not going to complain if you think I need to be punished instead.” I lean even closer. “How thin are the walls in your house here?”
He gives me a grin. “Thick enough. Especially since I wouldn’t mind the other people living there hearing you.”
I blush hotly but tuck up against him more fully.
I like Autre. A lot.
I like the idea of my new job. A lot.
And I more than like His Royal Highness Prince Cian O’Grady.