And just like that, despite everything, I smile. Because I can’t think of her and not smile anymore.
The irony is that I don’t know how long we’ll be able to hold on to this for. To this idea of us. Of her and me.
It seems like whenever we’ve entered something resembling a truce, that the world comes along and derails it all.
“Things are… progressing,” I reply evasively.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I finally feel like I’ve come home.”
“Jesus,” Artem breathes. “In the Old Country for no time at all and he thinks he’s a fucking poet now. Does that mean you’re never coming back to L.A.?”
I don’t expect the question. Which is probably why I answer honestly. “Let’s see how today goes.”
“Brother, I get the feeling you’re not telling me something.”
“I’m telling you exactly what you need to know,” I tell him, repeating words he’d said to his men a hundred times in the past.
“Don’t be an asshole.”
“You know I can’t help it.”
“That’s because you’re an asshole.”
I chuckle. A second later, the door opens and Saoirse steps out of the room.
She looks at me with wide eyes, wondering what’s changed since she’s been asleep. She knows better than anyone that your entire life can shift in a matter of minutes.
“I’ve got to go, brother,” I say. “Take care of that beautiful family of yours.”
“I will. Take care of yourself.”
“I always do.”
When I hang up, Saoirse walks into my arms. I pull her close to me and drop my face into the comforting hollow of her neck.
Her hand wraps around the back of my neck as she strokes my hair gently. “Any news?” she murmurs.
“I have scouts placed a few miles off from the castle. Still no sight of the Kinahans or anyone else. But they’ll be here sooner or later. That much I know.”
“Where’s Kian?”
“He’s downstairs,” I reply. “He’s kinda peeved you drugged him, so steer clear.”
She smiles as though my brother’s annoyance is the least of her concerns. “I can take a grumpy Irishman,” she says. “I’ve had lots of practice in that department.”
She pulls away and fixes me with a stubborn look. The kind of look that I’ve learned signals trouble is coming my way.
“You wanna teach me how to use a gun now?”
Bingo. “No.”
“Cillian…” she says with a tired sigh.
“Saoirse, don’t be ridiculous.”
“Then don’t treat me like a child,” she snaps, the fire flashing dangerously in her eyes.