I search out my son along the outer edge of the garden where I last spotted him. He still runs around on his short, stubby legs being chased by Nathan’s hoyden sister as well as his young nephew, although it seems like Enzo’s energy might be flagging. My heart pinches. It’s one of the first times I’ve ever truly seem him act like a little boy. Am I the reason for his quiet and reserved nature? Have I not encouraged him enough to be playful? To be the child he is? Am I a bad mother? My stomach hurts at that thought.

  “Your drink, miss,” the bartender says behind me.

  I pivot, losing sight of Enzo, and smile my thanks before picking up my vodka tonic. Once again, my attention wanders out to the dance floor. And then around Mrs. Donnelly’s garden. If it had been stunning in the daylight, it’s even more so in the evening, with fairy lights showcasing the flowers of every color that are carefully planted everywhere. To some, it might appear haphazard, as though they’ve all just been thrown down in any random way, but the longer I glance around, it becomes obvious that there’s a pattern to them. The aesthetic is warm and inviting. It makes a person want to explore and see all the magic that lives out here.

  I scan the crowd of faces, none of them familiar aside from Emilio, Brenna, and Jack’s family I met during the rehearsal dinner. Which had gone surprisingly well after the initial introductions to Nathan’s parents’ of a grandchild they’d known nothing about. Nathan is nowhere to be found.

  “Excuse me, but I was hoping I could persuade you to join me on the dance floor?” His voice comes from behind me as though I’ve conjured him out of thin air.

  I turn. He stands there, looking far too good in his perfectly fitted tux, wearing the same grin he used to charm me into dancing with him the last time. His reddish hair is tousled and slightly wind-blown. My heart flutters and my fingers itch to run through it. I study him quietly, my gaze trailing leisurely down then back up until I meet his crystalline eyes. There’s a twinkle in them. Is he too remembering the last wedding we attended when he asked me to dance?

  “Thank you, but I’m going to have to decline,” I say demurely, fighting a grin.

  He closes the distance between us, his addictive scent enveloping me. My head swims from his nearness. “I thought you might say that.”

  “Then why did you ask?” I take a casual sip of my vodka tonic.

  Nathan reaches up and brushes a stray strand of hair that’s escaped from the simple knot at the nape of my neck off my face. “I’ve never been able to resist a beautiful woman.”

  I cock my hip. “And how many beautiful women have there been?”

  He flashes that sexy grin of his. No doubt hearing the thread of jealousy. Even I can. I don’t backtrack, although I should. That will only draw more attention to it, and Nathan is far too observant to begin with. “Now that I’ve seen you, I’ve forgotten all the rest.”

  Damn, he’s good. “Aren’t you a smooth talker?”

  “I only tell the truth,” he says.

  My lips quirk. “Well, in that case, I suppose I can be persuaded to change my mind about that dance then.”

  He plucks the glass from my hand and sets it on the table and then threads his fingers through mine and leads me out to the middle of the floor. Other couples hold each other close, but then they cease to exist as Nathan pulls me into his strong arms. I breathe in his scent and rest my cheek against his. We move together in a familiar pattern like we’ve done this a thousand times before.

  His calloused fingertips lightly abrade my skin sending a shiver coursing over me. The grip at my waist tightens like Nathan’s worried I’ll be taken from him. Just as before, the world melts away. There’s no crowd. No music. No distractions. It’s only the two of us. For the moment anyway. I bask in this sensation. It won’t last. It can’t. It shouldn’t. But there’s that tiny voice whispering in the back of my mind.

  It could.

  Nathan raises his head, not loosening his hold even a fraction. “I’ve dreamt about you being in my arms again. Far too many times.”

  “Why? I’m not special. There are so many other women out there. Women who are closer to your age. Who are far more suitable.”

  “Suitable for what? For dating? A relationship? Maybe something more?” his voice rumbles over me.

  “For everything.”

  “Maybe I don’t want any of those other women. Maybe there is something about you that’s special. Something you don’t—can’t—see. Have you thought about that?” he asks.

  “It’s difficult for me to. I’ve pushed you away and pushed you away and yet you’re still here. Fighting me.”

  “Maybe you’re the one who’s fighting. Maybe you should stop and just let things happen between us. Whatever that turns out to be.”

  I swallow, because a part of me wants to. But my heart is pleading for caution. It’s been broken before. It—I—can’t handle it being broken again. I’m not sure I’ll recover. “I’m scared.”

  The admission is dragged out of me. With a family like mine, I’ve never been able to show any weakness. It only lends to their antiquated ideas of women and how they should stay home and take care of their husbands instead of being strong and independent and able to take care of themselves.

  Nathan palms my cheek and bends a little so we’re eye-to-eye. “You don’t have to be afraid with me. Whatever has you worried or scared we can fight it. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “You can’t promise me that, Nathan. Not with this life you live. It’s dangerous. For both of us.”

  “I’ll keep you safe,” he vows.

  I lay my hand over his. “But who will keep you safe?”

  “My brothers have my back.”

  “It’s not always that easy,” I whisper softly with a small shake of my head.

  Nathan rises to his full height and stares down at me. Then his eyes travel farther and stops above my chest. He gently pulls his hand out from under mine and reaches out. His warm fingers grasp the locket around my neck and lift it, his gaze locked onto it. “Does this have anything to do with your fear?”

  Against my will, I nod, the chain tugging lightly against my skin.

  “Who gave it to you?” Nathan asks quietly with an unreadable expression.

  “His name was Michele.” I inhale deeply. “He was my fiancé. He was killed in a raid against the Russians, eight years ago. A month before our wedding.”

  He gently returns the locket to its place. It’s only my imagination, but I could swear it’s hotter, burning my skin with the heat from Nathan’s touch. His gaze lifts to meet mine. “I’m sorry he died. As someone who no doubt loved you just as fiercely as you loved him—how couldn’t he have—do you think Michele would want you to mourn him forever? To miss out on the possibility of being loved like that again?”

  Tears fill my eyes and spill down my cheeks. “You’re asking me to risk not only my heart, but Enzo’s. What happens if he falls in love with you and you’re killed?”

  You both know you’re not just thinking about Enzo.

  “Life is all about risk, Lucia. None of us live forever. You can’t let fear win.”

  I have been closing myself off from love. With only me to worry about, I’ve been okay with that. I may be a little lonely at times, but Enzo most often cures me of that. Although there are nights when I crave a warm body cradling me against a solid chest. The intimacy of being held close, but over the years, I’ve kept the yearnings under control. Of course it would be Nathan who brings them out.

  “I can’t make any promises except that I’ll try,” I finally concede.

  “That’s all I ask. Try to not shut me out. Spend time getting to know me. Let me know you. Even the parts you’ve kept hidden all these years.”

  Nathan pulls me close against him once again. I lay my head on his shoulder and force myself to relax. His hand around my waist tightens. The soft music comes into focus as does the rest of our surroundings. The murmur of conversations. The clinking of silverware. The awareness of the man that holds me. Oddly, I do feel safe in his arms. Like nothing, and no one, can touch us.

  I only hope that my trust in Nathan doesn’t come crashing down on me.

  Chapter 18

  Nathan

  * * *

  Far too soon, the music changes and our dance ends. Like two magnets stuck together, it takes effort to pull myself away from Lucia. Not ready to give up touching her, I thread my fingers through hers and lead her off the dance floor to an empty table. I take a seat and tug her onto my lap.

  “Nathan,” she says and tries to stand, but I lock my hand around her hips and tighten my grip.

  “Stay,” I command.

  She huffs out a breath, but gives in and relaxes into me with her head resting on my shoulder. I’ll hold her for as long as she’ll let me. “When are you supposed to go back?”

  It’s the unspoken topic that manages to hang between us. Neither of us have brought it up, but the question has been lingering in the back of my mind for days. Ever since our date.

  “Tuesday,” she says quietly, her breath rustling the hair above my ear.

  Which means we have less than four days. Less than four days to get to know my son. To keep getting to know her. More importantly, for her to know me. That’s not nearly enough time. “You could always stay a little longer.”

  Lucia lifts her head and locks her gaze on mine. Sorrow shines from them and she shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I have a job to get back to. A life.”

  “Why can’t you make that life here?” I ask. “There are plenty of museums you could work at. Any one of them would be lucky to have you.”

  “It’s not the same. None of them have the history,” she says fiercely. “The archeology division at the museum is the most renowned in the country. I can’t—won’t—just give up what I worked so hard for.”

  I clench my jaw to hold back any more arguments. There has to be another way. A feminine throat clears nearby. Lucia and I both glance up.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” my mother says. “Lucia, dear, I just wanted to let you know that Caitlín took Enzo inside and laid him down in Nathan’s old room. He was practically asleep standing up.”

  She jumps up from my lap before I can stop her. “Oh no, I’m so sorry.”

  My mother waves away the apology. “Don’t be. Why don’t you stay as well. That way you don’t have to wake him up. You are welcome to Brenna’s room. It’s right across from Nathan’s so you can hear Enzo if he needs you.”

  I stand. Lucia worries her lip, her gaze darting to mine before she finally decides. Her shoulders soften. “Thank you, Mrs. Donnelly. That’s very nice of you.”

  Mother glances at me before returning to Lucia. She smiles warmly. “Please, call me Moira. Anyway, I’ll let Nathan show you the way whenever you’re ready to retire for the evening. Have a good night.”

  “Goodnight,” she returns.

  My mother walks away and closes the distance to Da who stands on the walkway leading to the house. She loops her arm around his and the two of them head inside. I glance around. The crowd has thinned. Jack and Rory are nowhere to be found. Paddy and Anya sit at a table away from the remaining guests, their heads close together, lost in their own conversation.

  I spot Uncle Carrick and his three sons Cian, Aidan, and Finn, all here from Dublin. They’re the only members of the family from Ireland that made it over. The rest of Da’s brothers and their kids remained at home taking care of business.

  Lucia clears her throat. “I should probably go check on Enzo. Make sure he’s okay. I’d hate for him to wake up in a strange place and not be there.”

  “Come on. I’ll take you inside.” I hold out my hand. She hesitates only briefly before sliding hers into it.

  We follow the same path my parents took.

  “Your mother’s garden is gorgeous,” Lucia says.

  “I’m sure she’ll be glad to hear you think so. It’s been here since before I was born. I think Da bought her the first blooms right after Jack was born. She’s spent the last thirty plus years turning it into what you see. One of these days there won’t be room for any more weddings,” I joke.

  A sudden vision of Lucia wearing a wedding gown and holding a bouquet of flowers appears inside my head. Her smile is breathtaking and the love shining from her eyes makes me stumble. I quickly right myself.

  “Are you all right?” she asks.

  “Fine.” I cough. “I’m fine.”

  She sends me a side-eyed glance. I open the door for her. We pass through the mudroom and down the hall toward the living area. Silently, we climb the stairs that lead off the family room up to the third floor and come to a stop a short distance down the hall.

  “This is my old room.” I gesture to the door that’s slightly ajar, a faint light spilling through the crack.

  Lucia gently nudges it further open and steps inside. A small nightlight has been left on, casting pale illumination throughout the room. Enough to allow the tiny form lying in the bed to be visible. I follow as she crosses the hardwood floor. An emotional tide rushes over me as I stare down at my sleeping son. My son. He’s absolute perfection. The reddish hair, so like mine, is ruffled. I almost wish his eyes were open so I could see their familiar blue. His mouth is parted just slightly and his small chest rises and falls with each breath.

  More than two years I’ve lost with him. Anger does neither of us any good. I can’t get that time back. All I can do is make sure I don’t lose any more. Lucia straightens the blanket over him and bends down to press a kiss to his forehead. She steps back and I move closer. I sense her surprise as I reach down and sweep a lone curl back. His hair is baby-fine beneath my fingertips.

  She trails behind as I turn and leave. Once we’re out in the hall, I pull the door partly closed, leaving it open enough that Lucia can hear Enzo if he needs her. I turn to find her standing outside Brenna’s room. She shifts back and forth and doesn’t quite meet my gaze. Haven’t we moved past that already? I tip her head back with a finger under her chin.

  “I think there’s more we need to talk about,” I tell her.

  She nods, the movement shallow. I reach around the doorframe and turn on the light. We both enter and I close the door behind us. Lucia stands in the middle of the room, her arms wrapped around her waist in a protective gesture.

  “I haven’t asked before now, because I haven’t wanted to push, but I need to know why.”

  Lucia paces until she slowly drops onto the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh. She rubs her hands down her thighs, the fabric of her dress wrinkling and smoothing out with each swipe up and down. Then one hand goes to that damn necklace. I hate the jealousy that sizzles in my veins. I also hate the slightest bit of gladness that comes right on its heels that her old lover is dead.

  “Michele was my best friend. But we often fought about all the risks he took,” she begins, her voice almost hollow. “He had this absurd idea that he wasn’t good enough for me because he was just a soldier, while I was Emilio’s cousin. It didn’t matter that the relationship is distant and we barely spoke, especially with him away from Brooklyn all those years. To Michele, I was practically royalty. He never felt like he measured up, no matter what I said. So, he did everything he could to show Sal he was loyal to the syndicate and to try and move up in the ranks. His dream had been to become a captain one day.”

  Lucia shakes her head and scoffs. “I hated it. I hated everything he did. I started to hate the organization. I even started to hate him.” Her voice breaks, but she clears it and steels her spine. “He left one night, after another argument, to go on a raid, and I buried him less than a week later. From that moment, I was done with this life. I swore I would never have anything else to do with it. No one else I loved would have anything to do with it either.”

  “And then you got pregnant,” I say.

  She jerks her gaze to me as though she forgot I was in the room and slowly nods. “And then I got pregnant.”

  “You could have done something about it. I would have never known.” Just saying it out loud makes a lead weight drop in my gut.

  “I thought about it.” I flinch at her quiet admission. “But, in the end, I couldn’t do it. Because, I would have known. And it would have ate at my soul for the rest of my life. Instead, I swore that I’d protect my baby. From the organization. From…you.”

  She hugs herself. The sorrow surrounding her is thick and nearly palpable. The need to comfort her propels me forward. I sit next to her and once again pull her into my lap. My arms go around her as her body shakes. She pivots and loops her arms around my neck, clinging to me while she cries broken-hearted tears.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Lucia sobs into my shoulder.

  I continue holding her long after she’s stopped crying. Her breathing has slowed and evened out, but she hasn’t moved. I don’t want her to. She shifts and I tighten my embrace, but she only seems to be switching to a more comfortable position. I’ve lost track of how long we remain seated, but finally she rises.

  Her eyes are red. Her face equally so. Splotches decorate her cheeks and nose and there’s a sheen to the caramel-colored orbs. A long tear clings to her eyelashes. I swipe it away with my thumb and palm her jaw. Her breath hitches as we stare at each other, neither of us looking away.

  I close the distance between us and brush my lips across hers. It’s soft and tender. The passion that’s always simmering beneath the surface bubbles, but doesn’t surge. I deepen the kiss. My tongue flicks out to run along the seam of her mouth, begging for entrance. Lucia parts her lips slightly, and that’s all the answer I need. It tangles with hers. Slowly. Languidly. Yet one more slow dance.

  She’s skittish enough as it is. I have no desire to scare her off. I need to take my time. Seduce her with one burning kiss after another.

  Chapter 19

  Lucia