He kissed me again, and the universe tilted, shifted, wiping everything clean: other people and trees and birds and buildings. The only thing left standing, upside-down, were the two of us, clasped in each other’s arms, defying gravity. It felt surreal. Unreal.
And this, I thought as I drowned in his kisses, is how you know it is real.
Three days later, Sailor drove me to Avebury Court Manor.
I wanted to see my father and Cillian a little less than I wanted to scuba dive with Scylla, the unfriendly mythical Greek sea monster. Alas, my mother had come knocking on my door numerous times, begging, crying, and pleading. After she’d admitted I was her golden child, it was a dick move to refuse her. Anyway, Sailor said if I wanted her to move her shit back to our apartment, I had to stitch things up with my family. For her, I’d make nice with world-class dictators.
But I’m repeating myself, because Da and Cillian give Bashar al-Assad a run for his money.
Then there was the other thing I hated to admit: I actually loved working for Royal Pipelines. I grew up thinking I’d hate it because I was destined to do it, not realizing it would fulfill me to be a part of my family’s company.
Making money was my calling. It gave me a hard-on. Somewhere along the way, I’d gotten attached to Royal Pipelines, and Cillian and Athair were a big part of it.
“Just listen to what they have to say.” Sailor tapped her thumb over the steering wheel.
I stared out the window, scowling at the trees shedding golden and red leaves. The gray, Gotham-like sky above the shingled colonial buildings poured hail. I realized with displeasure that I loved Boston and its East Coast grit—its filthy alleyways, four seasons, and Irishness. It bled my legacy, and I couldn’t turn my back on it. I’d lived the last few years pretending to be an all-American, Californian dudebro who was into sports and the beach and girls who wore neon biker shorts to attend Kanye West’s church. But my soul wasn’t mass-market plastic like theirs.
My soul was inked with Boston.
For the first time in a long time, I felt like I belonged.
“I will,” I told my girlfriend—yes, girlfriend—absentmindedly. Though I wasn’t exactly optimistic. “But here’s a spoiler: They’ll tell me I can have my job back, I’ll agree, and then we’ll have dinner. We’ll bail out before dessert for anal. Bareback. I’ll come everywhere. Let’s hope you don’t get pink eye.”
Unless Sparrow brings that banoffee pie she makes. Then anal can wait and we’ll stay for dessert. I would convert to its religion if it had one.
“Fine by me.” Sailor popped her lips. “All I’m asking is for you to give them a chance.”
“Done.”
“And tell me why you went to London.”
I smirked down at her. She’d asked me this a thousand times. I always gave her the same answer.
“Sorry, baby girl. It’s not my secret to tell. Just know I didn’t touch anyone there, other than myself. I did jerk off to pictures of you arching that I found on Google.”
The electronic gate of my parents’ mansion opened, and Sailor drove in, parking alongside the huge fountain at the entrance. I slid out and opened the door for her. We walked in hand in hand. A minute before we passed the threshold, she stopped. She squeezed my palm and looked up at me.
“Six months ago, I was hell-bent on going to the Olympics, and you were determined not to work for your father. Now, both those things aren’t true. I have no idea where life will take me, but definitely not the Olympics. You became your own person, a talented businessman, a guy with a girlfriend. Whatever we did, Hunter, we did it together. No matter what happens today, know that we both came a long way. I’ve never been prouder to be on someone’s arm.”
I leaned down, kissing the tip of her nose. She was a fucking vision, Sailor Brennan. I finally understood why Knight could never touch anyone else, even before he and Luna hooked up. No other girl in the world could stir in me what Sailor did when I looked at her. Adriana Lima in-fucking-cluded.
“Just out of curiosity, how many arms have you been draped on?” I murmured into the shell of her ear, entertained by the goose bumps prickling her flesh.
“One,” she whispered. “I’m looking at him right now.”
“That takes the sting out of the compliment.” I laughed.
“Take the compliment, Hunter.”
“Take your clothes off, prey.”
We strolled into the dining hall, which grew louder and livelier with noise and laughter as we ambled in. When we stopped at the edge of the double doors, we noticed the room was filled with our loved ones.
Mom, Da, Cillian, Aisling, Troy, Sparrow, Sam, the Penrose sisters, and all the servants of the estate.
My parents turned to face us in unison, sensing my presence before I announced myself. Mom jumped out of her recliner like her ass was on fire, collecting Sailor and me into a greedy hug. The room went quiet as she let out a guttural shriek full of relief.
“You’re here. Oh my goodness, you’re really here. Thank you so much for convincing him to come, Sailor.”
“My pleasure, Jane. Hunter’s, too.” Sailor elbowed me pointedly, maneuvering out of the very awkward hug and leaving me to actually hug my mother for the first time in a decade.
I patted her back, and she stepped away, cupping my cheeks. She scanned my face, taking inventory. Her eyes were full of unshed tears, hope, and love—so much love, its weight nearly suffocated me. I wondered how I’d never seen it before. But the answer was clear: I’d never loved someone myself to know what love looked like.
Not truly.
Not until Sailor.
I placed one of my hands on my mother’s, squeezing it against my cheek. “Sorry I was an asshole.”
She shook her head. “No, Hunter. I’m the one who’s sorry. All I want is a chance to make it right.”
“You have it,” I answered. If I got a second chance not to be B-grade gigolo, why couldn’t she?
“Son,” Da called from the depths of the room, sitting on a golden recliner in the center of the dining hall. “Come sit. We have something to discuss.”
Cillian was seated to his right. Troy and Sam to his left. Sparrow sat so close to Troy, she was practically on his lap. There were two empty chairs in front of him, which I guessed were reserved for Sailor and me. The Fitzpatricks preferred to conduct their business privately, so this was out of character. We usually liked our encounters like we did our steaks: rare and without any add-ons.
I took Sailor’s palm in mine and led her to sit down in front of them.
“Thank you for coming, ceann beag.” Da bowed his head, letting out a ragged, relieved breath. He looked pained—humbled, almost.
Cillian tapped his hand impatiently, bringing him back to the moment.
Troy Brennan surprised me by being the first to talk.
“Sorry to interrupt your little Dr. Phil moment. Since some of us have real jobs to get back to, I guess I should do the talking. I met my wife, Sparrow, in quite unnatural circumstances. I married her because I felt inclined to, not because I was particularly in the mood for nuptials.” He took Sparrow’s hand. “Frankly, I didn’t think I had a good fit. I was a lone wolf, which suited me well, or so I thought. Turned out, all I needed was a good kick in the ass. Sometimes, what we want and what we need are two vastly different things. I learned that the unexpected way. So when Gerald came to me with a seven-digit business proposal, in which my daughter’s happiness could be enhanced, I took it.”