Chapter 1 Cocoa and Heartfelt Confessions #3
"No, da. As long as you love us, I don't care if you love grandda and the others. I know you'll protect them anyway."
He's right about that.
"Am I allowed to deal with Kenny Jr.'s disrespect?" Fitz asks.
"Aye. But every action comes with a consequence."
"But not from you?"
"Nah, not from me." There's a knock on the door and I step away from the counter. "But fighting at school comes with penalties."
"And grandda might be angry. Would you allow him to punish me for it?" Fitz follows me to the front door.
It's a good question. Brogan and I settled the issue of his role in my family long ago. He has no authority over them except as it relates directly to mob business.
An altercation with the son of one of his lieutenants could be considered mob business.
That does not change my answer. "Nah."
"Mom might ground me though," Fitz says thoughtfully, clearly weighing the potential outcomes as I've taught him to do.
"Aye." Kara has her own view of acceptable behavior and as often as not, I concede to it, knowing my own moral compass is skewed.
I open the door and take the tray of cocoa from our guard before closing it again.
"It would be worth it," Fitz says with conviction, only to frown again. "But I don't want to disappoint her."
"You'll not disappoint her if she believes your actions are justified." Kara has her own streak of ruthlessness.
Six years ago, she'd asked her father to kill the woman who threatened our son's life. If Fitz retaliates against Kenny Jr. for talking shite to our son, I'll help her see the potential danger to Fitz from the kind of disloyal talk his distant cousin is spouting.
Whatever my son decides to do, I will be having my own discussion with Kenneth Shaughnessy.
There's chaos in the living room when Fitz and I return with the cocoa.
Mavie, wild with laughter, is tangled in garland and running around the tree with two of her mam's china ornaments clutched in her fists.
Kara rushes after Mavie, her own laughter hindering her attempts to catch our daughter. Cormac is on the second rung of the step ladder, clearly intent on scaling it. Holding another one of Kara's prized and very breakable ornaments, Sorcha is offering it to her brother, her expression serious.
"Fitz," I bark. "Cormac."
Knowing what I want and acting immediately, our oldest grabs his younger brother from the step ladder and sets him on the ground.
I place the tray of cocoa on the coffee table and swoop down to nab Mavie before she can make another circuit of the tree.
"No!" The shouted denial does not come from Cormac or Mavie, but our quiet little Sorcha. "It goes high."
Fitz drops to his haunches in front of his little sister, while blocking Cormac's path back onto the ladder. "Do you want me to hang it for you?"
Sorcha jerks her head in a nod. "It goes high."
"Yes, all the breakable ornaments go higher on the tree, you are right, my sweet Sorcha," Kara says, her voice filled with warm approval.
I carry Mavie to the tree and allow her to place both of her ornaments on high branches. "You let your mam and Fitz hang the rest of these ones," I tell her firmly.
She turns her sunny smile up to me. "Okay, da."
"I want to hang it," Sorcha says, her own voice just as firm as mine, only she's talking to Fitz.
"You want me to pick you up like da did for Mavie?" Fitz asks, respecting the touching boundaries our youngest twin has had since birth.
Sorcha considers her answer before nodding again. "Yes."
Fitz lifts her and allows her to hang the ornament near where Mavie placed hers.
"Marshmallows!" Cormac crows, having discovered the hot cocoa.
Minutes later the littles are sitting on the floor around the coffee table, drinking cocoa with their favorite toppings.
Mavie likes whipped cream as the white mustache she sports attests.
Sorcha wants whipped cream too in order to be like her sister.
However, her child sized mug only sports a small dollop that Kara mixes into the lukewarm beverage before our little one will take a sip.
Fitz sits in a chair, his own mug untouched while he looks around at all of us, like he's still trying to figure something out.
Kara nestles into my side on the sofa, taking sips from my drink while ignoring her own. "Everything okay with him?" she asks softly so her voice doesn't carry.
"Aye."
She relaxes against me, but I'm not fooled. My sweet wife will want chapter and verse later when the children can't overhear.
And there will be no slaking the intense desire that still burns brightly between us until she gets it. Not that that stops her from teasing me with the press of her gorgeous baps against my side.
When I glance down at her, she's looking back, her hazel eyes filled with the knowledge of what that touch does to me.
"Want to play stoplights tonight?" she asks softly.
My cock hardens in response to her question, like we didn't make love this afternoon while the girls were napping and Cormac was in preschool.
One thing that hasn't changed in the thirteen years of our marriage, is how much I need this woman.
And it never will.