“You once called Niall your friend, and honestly, Tig, I think he could use a friend like you.”
I study him for a moment, pursing my lips as I nod. “Okay. I’ll talk to them. But I don’t think anything short of a miracle will make Paddy like me.”
Seamus smiles, but it’s a little sad. “Come here.”
He drops his napkin onto the table, pushing his chair out from the table. Surprised, I stand, settling into his lap as his arms come around me, his nose nuzzling into my neck.
“Paddy has been my best friend for almost twenty years. When he was fifteen, his parents were killed, along with my mother.”
I stiffen against him, my arms moving around his shoulders as he continues to talk into my neck. Poor Seamus. PoorPaddy.
“We never found out who it was. My father suspected Romanian involvement. It’s probably one of the reasons he never moved to try for a truce before our wedding.”
My heart is thumping in my chest. Fifteen years ago. That’s when they died. Around that time, my father was very vocal in his hatred for the Irish and his desire to hit them where it hurt the most. Taking out the Boss’s wife and his second in command… would hurt the most.
“How did they die?” I whisper, my heart thumping in my chest. Seamus sighs against my neck.
“Drive-by shooting. They were eating at a café. It was a dark SUV, no plates.” His lips press a kiss to my pulse point. “Paddy moved into our house, and he had a lot of anger. All three of us did, but at least Pa and I had each other.”
“But Paddy had nothing except his anger at the Romanians. At my family,” I mumble. No wonder he hates me. Seamus nods, his hair brushing my cheek as he murmurs in agreement. “That’s why he thinks I can’t be trusted.”
“Don’t take it personally,mo chroí,” Seamus sighs, tilting my chin with two fingers so he can kiss me gently and thoroughly.
Breaking the kiss, Seamus moves his lips along the underside of my jaw, pulling back abruptly. I glance down at him, blinking at the serious expression on his face as he studies me.
“When your mother was executed, is that when you started the counting?” he asks softly. I freeze, blinking like a deer in the headlights. He sees so much more than I ever realized.
“Yes.” I swallow, a blush creeping up over my cheeks.
“And you count your heartbeats?” He presses his fingers against the center of my chest, feeling them now. They pick up at his touch and words, and I blow out a breath, shaking my head.
“I count five familiar things. It helps me ground myself. Helps me avoid falling into a panic spiral.”
Seamus is silent as he appraises me, a frown drawing his eyebrows down.
“What sort of things do you usually count?” His voice is casual, but I can hear the thread of curiosity hidden there.
“It depends on where I am.” I shrug. “If I was in this room, or any room in this house, it could be anything familiar. The plates, the furniture, the décor.”
“And if you’re somewhere else. Somewhere you don’t spend a lot of time?” he prompts. I hesitate, chewing on my lips.
“My mother gave me this bracelet when I was fourteen.” I hold it up, Seamus’s fingertips skimming over it. “I’ve worn the same perfume for the last ten years. I breathe in and smell it. My wedding ring.” I hold up my hand. He looks insanely smug at that.
“My heartbeat.” I nod to my chest, where his hand is still lying. I pause, lifting my eyes to meet his. “You,” I whisper.
The word hangs in the air between us. Seamus stares at me for a beat, his pupils dilating as he reaches out with both hands, cupping my jaw and crushing my mouth to his with a groan.
Finally, he lifts his head, his thumbs brushing over my cheeks.
“We should eat. Ye went to all this trouble, and it’s going cold.”
I nod, my brain scrambled. Seamus’s arms release me, allowing me to stand and move back to my seat, picking up my fork again.
“Ye never said how yer day was,” Seamus prompts, his voice rough and tinged with Irish, gesturing to me with his fork. “Before Niall interrupted.”
“Oh, right. I went to yoga and the grocery store. Liam is a much better shopping companion than Niall. He pushes the cart for me.”
A smile tugs at the corners of Seamus’s lips as he takes a sip of his white wine, asking me more questions about my day.