“Pretty sure I just met your son,” he announces. “Since you picked them up last night, I assume you have as well?”

  Paddy, who, only seconds ago had taken a drink, spews whiskey everywhere. He coughs and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “What the feck?”

  I sit upright on high alert. “Where?”

  “At the house. They came over to spend time with Rory.”

  Paddy’s head swivels back and forth, his round-eyed gaze bouncing between us. “Someone needs to explain what you two are talking about.”

  Jack turns to face him. “It would seem that our little brother here dipped his wick in Lucia’s well three years ago.”

  “Jesus.” I shake my head. “Do you really have to say it like that?”

  “Isn’t she nearly ten years older than you?” Paddy asks his crinkled brow smoothing out as a smirk appears on his lips and he leans back in his chair. “Whoa, oh, oh, our young cub Nathan has found himself a cougar. Soooo…did you make her purr?”

  Jack bursts out laughing and I throw up my middle finger. “You’re such a dick. Both of you. I thought marriage had cured you guys of that.”

  “Don’t be so sensitive,” Paddy says. “I’m just kidding. Sort of. Fine, I’m not. Still, though, a kid? Seriously?”

  “She’s denying it, but you saw him.” I jab a finger in Jack’s direction. “He looks exactly like a Donnelly. He’s also the right age. It happened when I took her to the airport after you and Rory got together.”

  Jack reclines in his seat. “You know, I remember that day. The two of you knew each other, although she denied that as well. When did you actually meet? Up until Cristiano’s christening, I hadn’t seen Rory since Gio and Francesca’s wedding.”

  “It was at the same wedding. I approached her and we talked for a bit. Then we danced together. Rory interrupted us so it wasn’t anything more than that. Until later.”

  “Damn. So you’ve known your woman as long as I’ve known mine,” Jack muses. “And now she’s back with a kid who looks just like you. Man, I don’t envy you one bit.”

  Something inside me jerks at him calling Lucia my woman, but I shut it down. “I’m pretty sure she would disagree with you about her being mine. I might, too. Christ, I don’t know what to do,” I admit, despite my talk with Brenna this morning.

  “About what?” Paddy asks.

  I stare at him like he’s an idiot. “About everything, dumb ass. Lucia has kept my son from me for three years. Except, according to her, he’s not mine.”

  “Then get a paternity test,” Jack says like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

  “I can’t force her to do it.”

  “Actually, you can. It’ll take lawyers and a whole shit load of red tape, but you can make it happen. Of course,” he adds. “She can also take off back to England and you’ll be left holding your dick.”

  Jesus, it’s a wonder he’s made it this far with Rory. “She’ll also hate me and still keep Enzo from me if I try to make her submit him to that.”

  “I didn’t say you should actually do it,” Jack clarifies. “I’m just letting you know that it’s an option.”

  No, it’s not. For reasons I’m not sure I want—or am ready—to acknowledge. “Maybe as a last resort.”

  “You can always marry her,” Paddy offers.

  I swallow and choke. “Excuse me?”

  He shrugs. “You liked her well enough to feck her and you guys have a kid together. There are worse reasons to tie yourself to somebody. Besides, out of all of us, you were always the one least opposed to marriage. Now’s your chance.”

  Of all the people to actually suggest marriage, Paddy is the last person I would have ever suspected. Before Anya, he swore he’d never shackle himself to a single woman for the rest of his life. It only shows how much he’s changed. “You might actually be on to something. There’s just one problem.”

  Actually there’s a shit number of problems.

  “What’s that?” Jack asks.

  “Lucia,” I say, as though it should be obvious.

  “I’m still not getting it,” he says folding up a hand in a helpless gesture.

  “She has a giant hangup about me. I have no idea where it stems from,” I admit.

  “I’d say maybe it comes from the fact that your balls haven’t dropped yet, but considering you managed to knock her up, I think that’s off the table,” Paddy snarks.

  My eyes narrow. “I really hate you sometimes. You know that, right?”

  Paddy palms is chest and his mouth drops as though I’ve wounded him somehow. He quickly recovers and barks out a laugh. “Jaysus, you make it far too easy.”

  Jack clears his throat. “If the two of you are done?”

  I keep quiet, as does Paddy, surprisingly, but his lips still twitch with glee. Asshole.

  “As much as I can’t believe I’m going to say this, Paddy’s right,” Jack admits, although it’s clear from his expression it pains him. “Marriage might be the right idea. There’s obviously something going on with you and her, plus the kid.”

  “She’ll never agree to it.” I stop him when it looks like he’s going to argue with me. “Not just because of whatever hangup she has. You guys haven’t seen her when she talks about her job. She lights up. It’s important to her, and I don’t see her giving it up. Which poses the second problem. Lucia lives in England. I live here.”

  “Maybe she should be the one you’re talking to then, instead of us,” Paddy says. “Convince her of all the reasons you two would be a good match.”

  My head nearly explodes from the whiplash he’s giving me. One second he’s being his dickish self and the next he’s saying shit like this. I’m not sure I even know who my brother is anymore. Either way, he’s right. A fact I’ll never tell him. It will only make his ego bigger than it already is. And no one needs that. I’m not sure how Anya tolerates it.

  I rise from my seat and cross over to the bar to refill my glass. Not that whiskey is going to magically solve all my problems, but maybe it will help me forget about them for a little while. I lift my glass in salute. “Slainte.”

  I take another slow sip of my drink, uncross my outstretched legs, and cross the other ankle over the opposite one. Jack and Paddy have long since gone to their respective houses, leaving me alone, yet again. I glance at the clock on the wall next to the bar. Just past six. My stomach rumbles. I skipped lunch, and the whiskey has done nothing to satisfy me.

  It’s probably a dumb idea, but without thinking too much, I grab my phone and make two phone calls, the second one lasting longer than the first. Less than ten minutes later, I’m in a taxi. We make the first stop, and then we’re pulling up in front of the next one. I go through the lobby and up the elevator until I come to the door I’d stood in front of last night. Before I question the epic idiocy of showing up unannounced, I knock.

  I don’t have to wait long before it opens. Looking just as beautiful as always, with her silky dark hair pulled up messily on top of her head and a make-up free face making her appear several years younger, is Lucia. Those bright brown eyes of hers widen in surprise. “Nathan, what are you doing here?”

  I lift the bag of takeout. “I thought maybe we could have dinner.”

  She hesitates far too long. I can sense the denial before it crosses her lips.

  “Just dinner, Lucia,” I say softly. “Nothing more than that.”

  Finally she nods shallowly and steps back, opening the door wider. I move past, trying not to inhale her scent. Enzo sits at the head of the bed with a small desk on his lap and several sheets of paper with drawings on them scattered around him. His gaze lands on mine. Lucia moves quickly around me and toward the bed. “You remember my friend, Nathan.”

  “Hi, Enzo,” I greet him, expecting the same silence I got the last time. Except he surprises me.

  “Hullo.” It’s not loud, but it’s something. There’s a bare hint of an accent in the word.

  Lucia glances around the room. “Maybe we should walk to the park. There are picnic benches where we can sit. It might be better than in here.”

  “Whatever you’d like. There are utensils and napkins in the bag.”

  “Give us just a minute to get ready,” she says.

  “Take your time,” I tell her.

  Before long, they both have their shoes on and we make our way to the park. The weather is perfect. The sun has begun to set behind the buildings and the temperature has dropped maybe ten degrees. In fact, there’s a slight hint of the coming fall in the air. One of my favorite seasons in Brooklyn.

  Lucia holds Enzo’s hand on the way over. I walk on their other side, keeping him between us. No one speaks, but I can sense Lucia’s gaze land on me frequently. Enzo’s too. I turn my head in their direction once in a while and take them both in. She always looks away, but Enzo studies me in what I’m coming to learn is that quiet way of his. I only have Caitlín, Saoirse, and Cristiano to compare to, but my son seems exceptionally contemplative for a kid his age.

  “How about here?” I ask when we reach the first unoccupied table.

  “This is fine.”

  In no time, we’re settled on the benches—Lucia and Enzo on one side and me on the other—and I pull out the different dishes from the bag and place them in the center. Sadie, long-time bartender and self-appointed mother hen of Donnelly’s, our family-owned pub, had also packed some plates, which I pass over.

  “I picked a few things off the menu I thought you guys might like. They’re most of my favorites,” I tell her.

  “It all looks and smells delicious,” Lucia says. “Thank you for inviting us.”

  I almost believe she’s sincere. She places a little bit of everything on her plate and only a couple dishes on Enzo’s. I take note of each one, absorbing his likes and dislikes. Anything I can to get to know my son better.

  It’s a weirdly familial ritual—a dad and mom enjoying a picnic with their son in a beautiful park surrounded by a copse of trees that provide the lush landscape to the happy little family they’ve created. It’s a mundane task hundreds of couples with children have performed on a daily basis, yet this is a first for me. It’s a little unreal. Surreal, too, because I can picture this becoming a thing. A ritual where Lucia and I talk, laugh, and kiss while we sit back and watch, not only Enzo, but maybe a brother or sister for him, as well.

  Whoa, hold the fuck up. I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m not sure what’s going on between Lucia and me, but no matter Paddy’s crazy idea, it sure as hell isn’t marriage and kids.

  Chapter 9

  Lucia

  * * *

  He brought us dinner. Nathan brought us dinner. I’m not sure what to make of it. His anger from last night is gone. In its place is an emotion I can’t identify. Maybe because you don’t want to. Whatever it is, I don’t like it. Anger I can deal with. I expect it. But this? I’m almost reminded of how he was the first time we met. The way he looked at me. Spoke to me. I’m not sure I have a strong enough defense against that.

  Is this his way of throwing me off guard? A way to earn my trust so I feel guilty enough to admit I lied to him about Enzo? What’s Nathan’s end-game? I should be enjoying the beautiful sunshine, something we don’t get nearly enough of back in London, and the nice gesture. Instead, I pick at the meal on my plate, nothing settling well with my stomach in knots. I hadn’t even been this nervous during my job interview with Mr. Barnwell at the museum.

  “Do you not like the food?” he asks, not unkindly.

  I jerk my head up to meet his gaze. “What? Oh, sorry, no, it’s fine,” I stutter. Something I haven’t done in god knows how long. I’ve always been the one to smooth out awkward conversations. The one who knows exactly what to say. Except, I can’t find the right words to say to Nathan.

  “How’s the job at the museum going? You’re some kind of acquisitions leader, but with a fancier title, right?” He breaks the uncomfortable silence that has fallen between us.

  “You remember that?” My jaw nearly drops.

  Nathan’s gaze sears into me. “I remember everything.”

  His suggestive tone tells me he’s not just talking about my job. I swallow, because my mind is forced back to both times we’ve met. How he made me feel as though no one else around us existed. His sole attention had been focused on me. Only one other person had ever treated me like I was special. A yell from the nearby baseball field breaks the hold Nathan has on me. I quickly look away and clear my throat. “It’s, um, Lead Registrar of Acquisitions, and it’s going well. I recently received a promotion, actually.”

  It hadn’t come with a new title, but it had come with a few more responsibilities—along with additional stress—and more money. A lot more.

  “Congratulations. I know how hard you said you worked to get the position in the first place. You should be proud of yourself,” Nathan says with a small head nod.

  Warmth swells in my chest. Other than Rory, no one else has ever been happy for me that I’m in a career I love. I’d let the good news slip to Edoardo when he called one day to ask if he could borrow some money and he, of course, told our other brothers. All of them have made sly remarks over the last six years about how I’ve probably slept my way into getting the promotion. I eventually stopped taking their calls.

  “Thank you,” I reply with sincerity. “I appreciate you saying that.”

  “Of course.” Nathan turns to Enzo, who’s managed to nearly clear his plate. “I saw your pictures. Do you like to draw?”

  Our son nods carefully, studying his father in that speculative way he has. He’s quite observant for a little boy his age. He takes his time warming up to people. But as soon as he does, the person is like a new best friend.

  Despite Nathan’s friendly demeanor, a wave of protectiveness rises up inside me. I’ve seen how the men in the syndicate react to members of the organization they don’t deem ‘manly’ enough. Or who are a bit more sensitive. The latter, a category Enzo falls square in the middle of. I won’t have anyone treating my son like there’s something wrong with him because he leans more toward quiet and creative instead of loud and playful.

  I cradle his head and kiss the crown of it. “Enzo is an amazing artist. All his teachers rave over him and his talent.”

  “It must run in the family, then,” Nathan says. “Talent, I mean. He obviously gets it from his mother. It’s certainly not from me.”

  My spine stiffens, but my heart drops into my stomach. I glare at him and send a reminder. “You said this was just dinner, Nathan.”

  His jaw tightens, the muscles along it dancing with the effort. “You can’t expect me to ignore the obvious. I thought I could do it. Even for an evening. But I can’t.”

  I lay down my fork. There’s not a chance I’ll be able to eat anything else. “What do you want from me?”

  Nathan wipes his mouth with his napkin and sets it next to his plate. Then he folds his arms and leans forward, resting them on the table. His gaze bounces between our son and me. “For now? I want a chance to get to know you. To know Enzo.”

  This is why I shouldn’t have opened the door. Shouldn’t have accepted the dinner invitation. Because it isn’t ‘just dinner’, like he’d promised. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why? What are you afraid of this time? Or are you going to give me the same story as the last two times? That you’re not scared of anything? Because I’m going to call bullshit. Again,” he intones. “You’re running from something. The same as you have been for the last six years. What is it?”

  Damn him for pushing. For not letting me—us—be. I push my plate away. “Thank you for dinner, but it’s almost Enzo’s bed time.”

  I rise from the bench and reach for my son. Once he’s in my arms, I stare down at Nathan, who hasn’t moved from his spot, although he sits stiffly upright. Hurt shines from his eyes.

  “I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want,” I tell him.

  With those words, I turn and walk away. I hate that it’s becoming a habit of mine when it comes to him. I’ve never walked away from anything else in my life. Until Nathan.

  I’m a coward.

  “Don’t cwy, Mama.” Enzo’s tiny palm wipes the tears off my face.

  I smile gently at my sweet boy and help brush the wetness away. “I’m sorry I’m sad.”

  “No sad.” He leans forward and kisses me.

  “Thank you, sweetie.”

  Despite the short walk, he grows heavy. I set Enzo on his feet and hold tightly to his hand to let him walk the rest of the way. We turn the corner, and I collide with someone. My breath escapes with a small oof. I stumble slightly. A hand grips my arm to steady me.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say.

  “Lucia?” the masculine voice asks in surprise.

  My gaze jerks up and meets a familiar pair of dark eyes. “Val? Oh my god, what are you doing here?”

  I reach out with my free arm and give him a hug that he returns before pulling back and looking down at me with an appreciative gleam. “I had dinner with some friends a couple blocks over and was heading back to my car. It’s so great to see you, Luce. You look as beautiful as always. When did you get back in town? Are you staying nearby? And who do you have here?”

  “This is my son, Enzo. We actually just got into town last night. We’re here for Aurora—Rory’s—wedding.”

  “That’s right,” Val says. “She’s marrying into the Donnellys if I remember correctly. Between Mr. Ricci and Aurora, it looks like we’re truly stuck with the Irish, it would seem.”

  I chuckle. “Looks like it. So, how have you been?”

  “You know how it is. Things are different with Emilio in charge than it had been with Sal. The organization is changing.” He shrugs and his expression flattens. “The anniversary is coming up.”