I didn’t regret it, was truly fascinated by the turnabout, and when I walked through the front door to the family home and was confronted with seemingly hundreds, maybe even thousands of photographs, it was like ET had phoned home and had gotten a direct ride to his planet.
Eyes big, I stared at them all, scanned them for the faces I knew, ones I didn’t, eager to absorb as much information as I could. When Aidan started laughing at my side, I didn’t even notice, but someone else did.
Someone I didn’t see until she stated, some confusion to her tone, "Junior?"
Tearing my attention from the photos, aware I was salivating and that it was weird, I came face to face with Magdalena O’Donnelly.
The matriarch to Aidan Sr.’s patriarch.
The woman he’d gone to war for.
The woman in whose name he’d committed unspeakable acts.
She was his wife, the mother of his children, but everyone knew she was more than that to Aidan Sr.
She was his queen.
"All right, Ma?" Aidan left my side and dipped down to kiss the cheek of the woman who’d appeared in the doorway. "Merry Christmas."
I gaped at him, at his ease with her, then shook myself because this was his mom. What was he supposed to do? Bow? Just because she was unofficial royalty didn’t mean her kids treated her that way.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "And what about Thanksgiving, hmm? Not a call or a message."
He winced. "I’m sorry."
She scoffed, but begrudgingly muttered, "I’m sure you’ll have a damn good reason for it. I’ll leave you to explain that to your father. Merry Christmas, son." She reached up and grabbed his cheeks, her thumbs digging in. Not to hurt, but so she could tilt his face this way and that. "You look brighter." Her lips pursed as she assessed him.
"Feel it."
I didn’t see what silent communication they had going on with their eyes, but Magdalena hummed and let him go. Then, she turned to me and with a false smile, asked, "Now, who’s this?"
"She’s trouble," Aidan teased, limping over to me and tucking me into his side.
I shot him a sheepish look, then untangled myself from his grasp and walked over to her.
A part of me really wanted to curtesy. And the way she was looking at me didn’t help matters. I half expected her to call out, "Aidan, come lop off her head," but she didn’t. Just carried on looking me up and down as if I were a gnat.
"My name’s Savannah. It’s a pleasure to meet you," I greeted, then when she said nothing, I tacked on, "Merry Christmas."
"Ma," Aidan warned, strolling over to me and tucking his arm around my waist again.
"You boys are going to be the death of me," Magdalena muttered, her gaze on the way he held me close. "He’s already up in arms about Brennan. Now you bring another girl over?"
I cleared my throat. "With respect, I’m not a girl."
"You are to me." She pinned me with a glance. "You’re from that TVGM show, aren’t you? The one who punched the executive in the nuts?"
I had no idea why, but I really wanted to laugh at her question. Instead, I politely murmured, "That’s me."
"You have a good right hook."
"She doesn’t actually," Aidan countered.
"You’d know, would you? What did you do to piss her off?" Magdalena asked, shooting him a gimlet stare.
Because I could tell the woman liked bullshit as much as I did, I was honest with her. "He told me that instead of being with me for the last five years, he was watching over me."
Magdalena’s brows fluttered. "Watching over you?" she repeated. I felt Aidan grow tense at my side then yelped when she reached up, grabbed him by the ear and hauled him down to her height. "Aidan, did I raise a stalker?"
"No! He wasn’t stalking me!" I cried out, shocked at how she started dragging him down the hall. But it was too late. "His knee!" I warbled, stumbling along after them as Aidan let her, fucking let her, clip him around the ear.
The necktie around my waist made it hard to walk fast as it squished me, so I was breathing heavily by the time we made it into a kitchen.
There were six women sitting at a table who immediately jumped to their feet at the spectacle.
Magdalena stormed toward them, son literally in hand, then she ground out, "Sit down!"
I figured she was talking to Aidan, but the women all obeyed, dropping into their chairs with an immediacy that would have been hilarious if I wasn’t stunned by the turnabout.
Still with her fingers nipping his ear, she forced him to sit down, and I darted over, hands dithering as I tried to figure out how to fix this.
"He didn’t hurt me!" I cried out.
"I didn’t raise no pervert," Magdalena barked.
"Aidan’s not a pervert," a red-headed woman chided.
I cast her a grateful glance, and as my brain tripped into gear, I realized it was Aoife O’Grady.
"He’s not!" I confirmed.
Aidan smirked up at me. "I appreciate your defending my honor, little one. You too, Aoife." It was clear this was not the first time he’d been in a similar position, but Jesus, what if Aidan Sr. came in? Would he do something worse?
Imagining a very bloody Christmas—well, bloodier than whatever was going to happen to the Archbishop of New York—I snapped, "This isn’t a joking matter, Aidan."
He snorted out a laugh. "It’s pretty funny from where I’m sitting."
I growled at him, then to Magdalena rasped, "I promise, he was just watching over me."
"Why did you punch him then?"
"Because I didn’t want him to watch over me. I wanted him to..." I gulped. "...be with me."
She squinted at me, but didn’t let go of Aidan’s ear, and behind me, I heard someone ask, "Aidan’s smiling. It’s weird."
I twisted around to glare at the table, and realized Jen was there. I scowled at her. "Shut up, you. What are you even doing here? And why didn’t you text me about last night?"
Jen grinned, but a shadow invaded her expression at that last question. At any other time, I’d have been all over that, but the situation was dire, and my breathing was still out of whack.
"Aoife invited me. Said I couldn’t spend the holidays alone worrying about my impending bankruptcy."
"I think we should get back to the matter at hand," another woman retorted, and when I shot her a look, I blinked when I recognized Camille Vasov, purportedly the latest O’Donnelly bride. She slipped out of her seat, moved over to Magdalena and gently cuffed the woman’s wrist. "Let go, Magdalena. You know Aidan isn’t a pervert."
Magdalena’s mouth tightened. "Five years she said he was watching over her. Aidan O’Donnelly Jr. who set you up as a guardian angel?" She finally let go of his ear, and I winced with relief when he straightened his head, and wiggled his neck a little.
"I could say God, but you’re not Da so I don’t think you’d accept that as a legitimate excuse."
Magdalena huffed. "No, I wouldn’t."
"How about that I was in love with her? That I couldn’t be with her, not without bringing the poison from this fucking world to her front door, so I had to look over her from afar?"