I find an empty spot to park on the street a block away from the glass and dirt-brown bricked building. The scent of the East River floats in on the breeze and the tip of the Williamsburg bridge is just visible over a nearby rooftop. I stop for a moment to admire it. Brooklyn is my home. I’m not sure I can imagine living anywhere else. Not only because I’m a member of the Irish syndicate, but because my family is here.

  With a final glance over my shoulder, I enter the pristine lobby with its gleaming white marble floor that reflects my image back to me. The sweet scent of fresh cut flowers greets me as does the security guard seated behind the desk.

  “Good morning, Mr. Donnelly. Is Mr. or Mrs. Ricci expecting you?” he asks.

  “No, it’s a spur-of-the-moment decision to stop by. Mrs. Ricci’s home, I hope.”

  He nods. “Yes, sir. I can notify her you’re on your way up.”

  Since he’s already reaching for the phone as though it isn’t actually a question, I wave and head to the elevator. “Thanks, I appreciate it.”

  Five floors later, the bell chimes and the metal door slides open. I step out into the entryway that, over the years, has acquired a narrow bench, several large pots of flowers, and an array of children’s toys. The sun shines through the blacked-out floor-to-ceiling windows, a security measure Emilio had installed a few years ago when Pierce had caught some journalist trying to take pictures from the building across the street.

  I don’t even have to knock before there’s a metallic snick and the townhouse door swings wide open.

  “Nathan, what a pleasant surprise,” she greets me with a warm smile. “I’m sorry to say Jacob isn’t here.”

  I clear my throat and shift on my feet. “Actually, I’m here to see you.”

  Brenna blinks and jerks back slightly, but recovers quickly. “Of course, come on in.”

  She steps back and I slide past her. I glance around the home she’s made with Emilio. Children’s toys are carefully stowed in a large box in the corner of the living room, although there’s a giant red firetruck sticking halfway out on the other side of the couch. It’s tidy, but doesn’t feel stuffy. It’s most definitely well-lived in. The familiar scent of flowers that similarly graces our parents’ brownstone fills the air. Most likely from our mother’s garden. Or perhaps Anya’s. It reminds me of my childhood. I turn and face my sister.

  “What can I do for you?” Brenna asks, closing the door behind her.

  I hesitate, feeling a sudden urge to flee. She closes the distance between us and places her hand on my arm. “Is everything okay?”

  “I have a son,” I blurt out before I can measure my words.

  Her mouth drops. “You what?”

  I blow out a breath and run my hand through my hair.

  “Wait, I think this is a story that requires a drink.” Brenna crosses to the wet bar against the back wall of their dining room, pours two fingers of what is most likely whiskey in a glass, and brings it to me.

  I take it with a murmured thanks and toss it back in a single swallow. Damn, the burn is almost as good as Jack’s favorite Irish whiskey, The Devil’s Keep. She takes my hand and tugs me over to the couch.

  “Sit. Talk,” Brenna orders.

  I cradle the empty glass between my palms, rolling it between them while I figure out what to say. “You remember Rory’s aunt, Lucia?”

  “Yes,” she says slowly. When I don’t say anything else, her eyes bug. “You’re not saying she’s the mother, are you?”

  I nod. “With Rory sick, Jack asked me to pick her up at the airport last night while he filled in at the pub. When I showed up, she had a kid with her. Brenna, he looks exactly like me. He has my red hair and the Donnelly eyes. About the right age, too.”

  Brenna clears her throat. “I didn’t realize the two of you knew each other in, um, that way.”

  For some reason my cheeks heat. It’s not as though either of us are innocent, but I’m also not one to share my sexual exploits with anyone, especially my sister. “We met at Gio and Francesca’s wedding and then again right after Jack and Rory got together. It was a one-time thing that just sort of happened.”

  “And you’re sure he’s yours?” Brenna asks with gentleness. “I mean, if it was just that once, and I assume you used protection of some kind, it’s possible he’s not. Maybe she met someone right after she went back to England. The Scottish are known for their red hair more than the Irish, you know.”

  The thought had occurred to me more than once, but Lucia’s reaction at seeing me only cemented the idea in my head. She wouldn’t have any reason to be afraid if she wasn’t trying to hide something. “My gut tells me he’s mine. Everything fits.”

  “Have you talked to her?”

  I shake my head. “She and Enzo got in late last night and they were both tired. Plus, I’m not sure I was in the right head space to have a civil conversation, especially when she denied he’s mine. I don’t think I’ve ever been this angry before in my life.”

  Brenna reaches across and lays her hand on mine, squeezing it lightly. “I only know Lucia from what Rory has told me, so it’s not much, but there has to be a reason why, if he truly is your son, she didn’t tell you. She’s never struck me as someone who would be cruel. A mother will do a lot of things for her children.”

  This is why I came to my sister. She has a way of putting things in perspective. I don’t like it, but it gives me something to think about. “I need to talk to her.”

  “Yes, you do. But more importantly…you need to listen. No matter how angry you might be, it won’t do you any good. In fact, I suspect it will only make things worse and Lucia even more resistant to speaking with you. Give her a day or two. Let her have some time with Rory. Be patient,” she cautions. “You’re probably the one with the most patience out of all of us, so I know it’s possible.”

  As much as the fact chafes, she’s right. I’ve always been the one to hold back and study things from all angles before jumping into making a decision. I’ve had to with brothers like Jack and Paddy. It’s one of my best skills. I just never thought I’d have to employ it with Lucia.

  Chapter 7

  Lucia

  * * *

  Soft pats to my face wake me. I smile sleepily and open my eyes. The most beautiful boy stares back.

  “Get up, mama,” Enzo tells me, his voice as gentle as he is. His slight American-British accent is adorable. “I hungwy.”

  “We can’t have that, now can we?” I rise up and kiss his forehead and the tip of his nose. It’s our special morning ritual I started when he was born and has continued every day since.

  I climb out of bed, scoop him up, and head into the bathroom. We both perform our morning ablution, brush our teeth, and take care of other personal business before heading to one of my favorite breakfast places a couple blocks from the hotel. Once Enzo is eating his scone that isn’t nearly the same as the scones back in England, I pull out my cell and call Rory.

  “Good morning,” she answers, sounding chipper and not quite as congested as she had last night.

  “Hey, how are you feeling?”

  “Better. Jack brought me some more medicine that seems to be helping. I’m planning on seeing you guys today. How about you and Enzo come over here for lunch?” Rory suggests. “I’ll order in food from Donnelly’s and we can catch up.”

  “That sounds great. I can’t wait to see you. I’ve missed you so much. I am also dying to see your house and your ring in real life. I’m sure the pictures don’t do either of them justice. I’m so happy you’ve finally found the life you’ve always wanted,” I tell her. It’s true, too. No one is more deserving of happiness than Rory.

  “It’s a little surreal sometimes. I have to pinch myself every once in a while to remind myself that this is my life.”

  “Well, you get to tell me about all the things I’ve missed while I’ve been gone,” I say with a giddy excitement while I lean over and wipe off Enzo’s mouth and brush the crumbs from his shirt.

  “Sounds like a plan. I’ll text you the address and I’ll see you two around noon, then?”

  “We’ll be there. Oh, wait, Enzo wants to say hello.” I bring the phone to his ear and he lays his hand over mine trying to hold onto it as well.

  “Hi Auntie Wowy. I wode a pwane,” he proclaims proudly to her. I sit there while the two of them have a short chat.

  “Okay, little man, let’s let Auntie Rory go.” I chuckle. If I don’t stop him, he’ll natter on for hours. “We’ll see her soon and you guys can continue this conversation then.”

  “Bye bye,” he sings with a wave she can’t see.

  I say my goodbyes as well and finish my cup of coffee. We head back to the hotel for a quick stop and then walk to the park next door to play and kill some time. It gives me the opportunity to ignore the world around us as well. Something I’ve become adept at doing over the years. At least until it’s time for Enzo’s nap.

  Briefly, I stare down at him, but the longer I do, the more times Nathan pops into my head. It’s hard not to think about him when his spitting image lies next to me. I’ve seen the question in Rory’s eyes so many times over the years during our video calls when Enzo pops in to tell her all about his day. She’s never voiced it, though. I’m grateful.

  A gut feeling tells me that my secret is going to be revealed far sooner than I’d hoped. It almost makes me want to cancel our visit and hop on a plane back to England.

  Stop being such a coward. I’ll face this, just like I’ve faced everything else in my life. Head on. I’ll continue doing what I’ve done since I found out I was pregnant. Protect my son.

  The taxi stops in front of a three-story brick and stucco house with its three-paned window stretching the length of the front porch. A well-manicured yard with an array of flowers make up the landscaping. No doubt Jack’s mom had a hand in planting them, although I can picture Rory out there with her helping. Mostly, because that’s just how she is.

  As though conjuring her out of thin air, she opens the front door and steps outside waving frantically with the biggest grin on her face. She stands there wearing curve-hugging jeans and a blouse that accentuates her gorgeous figure. Color blooms in her cheeks, and her long, dark hair shines with health. She’s the absolute picture of perfection.

  Beside me, Enzo shifts in his car seat, leaning forward as much as the restraint allows trying to see around me. “Auntie Wowy.”

  I hurry out of the backseat while she gallops down the stairs and crashes into me with a rib-crushing hug and a cry of exclamation. The tears I’d been holding back flow down my face. I’m the first to pull away. I cradle her similarly wet cheeks between my palms. “I’ve missed you so much. You look beautiful.”

  Rory clutches my wrists. “I’ve missed you, too. And this little nephew of mine.”

  I release her and we both turn to Enzo who’s sitting quietly in his car seat with a slightly worried expression on his face, despite his earlier excitement. I’m sure our tears are making him nervous. His natural reticence with meeting strangers, even though she’s not technically one, seems to be showing. I’m not too worried. He’ll warm up to her in no time, I’m sure of it. I reach in and unbuckle him before lifting him onto my hip to officially meet Rory.

  “Hi Enzo,” she greets him with an easy smile, wiping her eyes. “I’m so happy to finally see you.”

  “Can you say hi to Auntie Rory?” I ask it gently, not wanting to push him or make him more uncomfortable.

  So quietly, it’s barely audible, he murmurs a, “Hullo.”

  She jumps a little and takes a small step toward the taxi. “Why don’t I get the carseat and your bag, then we can go inside where it’s more comfortable.”

  “I can get it,” I say, moving to stop her.

  Rory tuts. “You already have your hands full. I’m pretty sure I can figure this thing out.”

  Sure enough, in no time, she’s got it in her arms, and we walk up onto the front porch and into the house. If the outside was perfectly Rory, then the inside is even more so. Antique furniture fills the family room, as well as the enclosed porch that faces the street. The hardwood floor is polished to a bright shine. A familiar guitar with its snowflake inlay sits propped up in a display case next to a comfortable looking chair. It’s the same one Jack gifted her when they first got together.

  “Still playing?” I gesture with my chin.

  Rory sets the car seat and my bag on the floor by the door and glances over at the instrument. Her expression turns a bit dreamy. “Every day. All those lessons Jack got for me finally paid off. I’m actually pretty decent now.”

  “Don’t let her fool you,” a masculine voice comes from around the corner, and I jump as Jack strides into the room. “Rory plays like a professional. Welcome back, Lucia.”

  His gaze drifts to Enzo, and he stops dead in his tracks. I shift uncomfortably and want to hide my son from his view. Instead, I remain calm and act like nothing’s wrong. “Enzo, this is your soon-to-be Uncle Jack.”

  The man in question stares at me with obvious doubt in eyes so similar in color to both Nathan and my son. While Jack’s hair is a darker shade of auburn and more brown than the red of his brother, there’s still a distinct resemblance. I’m not sure how I thought I was going to convince everyone Nathan isn’t the father.

  “Soon-to-be, is it?” Jack asks with a raised brow as he comes to stand next to Rory and wraps an arm around her waist, tugging her close into his side. He presses a kiss to her temple. She melts into him. For a brief second, a flash of envy pinches inside my chest. I had that kind of love once. Until the organization ripped it away from me.

  “Lunch is staying warm inside the oven whenever you’re ready to eat,” Jack tells her. “I need to go meet my brothers, so I’ll be gone a while. Enjoy your visit.”

  He gives her one more kiss and then walks toward the door. He pauses at my side, his eyes going to Enzo and then meeting mine. I can’t read any emotion in them. “It’ll be nice getting to know my nephew while you’re here. Maybe this time you’ll stay a little longer.”

  Without another word, he heads out the front door, closing it behind him. I release the breath I’d been holding.

  I shake off the unsettled sensation gripping my belly and turn to Rory. The look on her face tells me my reprieve is up.

  “Why don’t I get Enzo set up with something to keep him entertained and we can talk,” I tell her.

  “I think we need to.”

  Far too soon, I have the protective cloth laid out over the coffee table and Enzo sits on the floor beside it with his coloring book, a few sheets of blank drawing paper, and crayons. His daycare teachers say his artistic talent exceeds any other kid his age. It’s a skill I’m trying to help him hone, especially since he seems to enjoy it. With nothing left to do to avoid the upcoming conversation, I take a seat on the sofa next to Rory.

  “Who’s Enzo’s father, really?” she asks quietly, without preamble. I can almost appreciate her getting straight to the point. “It’s obvious you’ve been lying to me all this time.”

  Still fighting against the inevitable, I laugh uncomfortably and wave my hand with a bit too much nonchalance. “I told you. It was just some guy I met out at the pub. An oops moment.”

  “Lucy.” I hate the disappointment in her tone that I’m still not admitting the truth.

  Letting go of all pretenses, I release a deep sigh and glance at Enzo. He’s completely engrossed in his artwork and not paying us any attention. Still, I keep my voice at a whisper. “You know who it is.”

  “Why can’t you say his name?”

  My gaze floats back to her and I hold it there. “Because that makes it real.”

  Rory scoots closer and grabs my hand, holding it in hers. “It’s already real. You know that. It became real the moment Enzo was born. I wish you would have told me.”

  I shake my head. “I didn’t tell you because I would have sworn you to secrecy. That’s no way to start a new life and new marriage. I couldn’t have asked that of you. It wouldn’t have been fair.”

  “What did Nathan say when you told him?”

  Inside, I wince. I bite my lip and look away. “I didn’t.”

  Rory’s sigh is filled with disappointment. “Oh, Lucy.”

  I jerk my head back to face her. “I know, but I panicked. He was so angry. Not that I blame him. But I’ve spent the last eight years separating myself from the syndicate. I have no intentions of being sucked back in. I don’t want that life for Enzo. Watching him grow up engrained in an organization that could get him killed.”

  “Is that fair to Nathan? Or to Enzo? Keeping them apart this whole time? He’s his father, Luce. No matter how much you want to deny it,” Rory says.

  She doesn’t understand. She has no idea what it’s like sitting at home night after night waiting for the person you love to come back, only to get a call telling you he’s dead. She doesn’t know what it’s like seeing their pale and lifeless body on a cold metal slab riddled with bullet holes.

  “Nothing about life is fair, Aurora. You, more than anyone, know that,” I remind her pulling my hand from hers. She flinches slightly at her full name. A twinge of guilt hits that I used it, because she hasn’t been that person since Alessandro. But the reminder is for both of us. “I think it best if we talk about more pleasant things. Then, we should probably have lunch. I’m sure Enzo is getting hungry.”

  Finally, she nods and launches into an awkward and uncomfortable conversation about her upcoming wedding. Not that it does anything to quiet the thoughts of Nathan and the knowledge that at any moment, he’s going to make good on his promise that this isn’t finished between us.

  Chapter 8

  Nathan

  * * *

  Jack strides into the room of the brownstone that Paddy had dubbed the man cave. The latter and I are already seated in our respective chairs with a lowball of whiskey in hand. He doesn’t greet either of us. Instead, he goes right for the bar, pours himself a hefty portion of whiskey, and then finally drops onto his usual spot at the end of the sofa. He leans forward, rests his elbows on his knees with his glass between his palms, and looks straight at me.