I’m horrified that she thinks that brat and I are anything alike. One side of her mouth tips up. She palms my cheek, and her expression turns serious.

  “Rarely do you see the consequences your actions cause. I don’t think either you or Anya are prepared for what marriage to each other is going to be like. I’m scared what’s going to happen when the inevitable occurs. I only pray it doesn’t destroy you both in the end.” She turns and walks away.

  The whiskey I drank turns sour in my stomach, and the headache I just got rid of begins to pound again. There’s no way my mother can be right. This is purely an agreement between Anya and me. We’re both fully aware of what the other’s reasons are for doing this. There aren’t going to be any surprises. It’s a cut and dry arranged marriage where we each get what we want. To live our lives freely and happily. It’s a win-win situation. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

  Chapter 10

  Anya

  * * *

  Ten digits. A single phone number I entered into my cell five minutes ago and have been staring at ever since. All I have to do is press the giant green button at the bottom of the screen. But my finger is frozen.

  “You still haven’t called him?” Mila asks.

  I glance up. She walks over to the recliner with Milana cradled, and nursing, in her arms. They settle into the chair and rock back and forth. My heart swells at the sight of my beautiful niece. Considering Mila is the one who practically raised me, I know she makes an amazing mother. I’m so happy for her and Pierce.

  I shake my head. “I keep chickening out.”

  “Maybe that’s a sign,” she says gently.

  Unsure why I’m determined to prove everyone wrong, I manage to tap the button. My heart gallops, and my stomach twists in knots. I rise from the couch and pace while it rings.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Paddy. Um, it’s Anya. I picked out a date,” I babble. There’s a short pause where it’s so quiet. Is he still there?

  “It’s still on then?” he asks. Is that disappointment in his voice?

  “Yes.” I’m not going to be the one to change my mind. If he doesn’t want to go through with it, then he’s going to have to tell me. I won’t make it easy for him.

  “And when is it?”

  “Next Friday afternoon at three. Your parents’ music room,” I tell him.

  “I’ll be there. I also talked to a realtor and should have some houses you can look at in the next few days.”

  God, this is really happening. “I look forward to it.”

  Silence falls. Will all our interactions be this awkward? It doesn’t matter. I’m not marrying Paddy for his conversation.

  “If that’s it?” he asks.

  I clear my throat. “Um, yes, I guess that’s everything.”

  “I’ll call you about the houses when I hear something.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  “Later,” Paddy says and disconnects the call.

  “Later,” I say to nothing but thin air.

  I slowly return to the couch and sit with my phone on my lap, unable to meet Mila’s gaze. It had seared into me the whole time. Putting a false smile on my face, I raise my head to glance over at her. “Paddy is looking at houses for us. We’re going to check out a few this weekend, it sounds like.”

  “That’ll be nice.”

  Milana starts to fuss, so Mila lays her against her shoulder and spends a moment or two patting her back and cooing softly. Grateful for the temporary distraction, I stare down at my phone and replay the uncomfortable chat. It won’t always be like this. It’s just because we haven’t found our footing with each other yet.

  The baby lets out a few belches, and I glance up. Mila shifts her to the other breast. Then her gaze lands on me again. I can sense her worry from a single look.

  “I’m going to have a nice, big garden to work in,” I say. “I’m really excited about that. I’ve even made a list of all the flowers I want to plant. Hopefully, there will be a good bit already to work with, even though it’s getting late in the season.”

  Mila smiles, but it’s not a real one. “I’m sure it’s going to be beautiful. I can’t wait to see it.”

  “And I’m going to have a huge sewing room, too. I plan on getting a few dress forms that I can use as models for the clothes I want to make. With all that space, maybe I could even open an online store or something.” I keep babbling, not sure if I’m convincing either of us of how wonderful this is going to be.

  “That sounds lovely. I’m so proud of you. I’m sure whatever you decide, it will be great. I bet Caitlín would help spread the word. She has a lot of friends,” Mila says with a bit more enthusiasm.

  It’s an idea I’d only been vaguely toying with, not truly serious about it, but the more I talk about it, the more the bubble of excitement grows. “I think I could really do something with my designs. At least, I hope so.”

  “With your talent, I have no doubt people will be running to buy your clothes.”

  My cheeks heat with the compliment, and I chuckle. “You have to say that because you’re my sister.”

  “I don’t have to say anything. You are amazingly talented, and soon, everyone, including you, will see that,” Mila insists.

  I can just picture it. The sun shining in through my windows, illuminating the clothes I have hanging up as well as what I’m working on with the dress form mannequins. Fabric spills over the edge of bins I keep them in. Spools of thread fill the drawers. I’m nearly overcome with giddiness. I’ll have the space and freedom to do whatever it is I want.

  “Now I really can’t wait to see these houses Paddy finds for me. I’m already picturing how I’m going to organize my sewing room. I can see myself out in the garden during the mornings, working with my flowers. Then, spending the afternoons and evenings designing and sewing my clothes.” I clap my hands together. “Lennox from the community house is a whiz with the internet. I bet she’d help me set up a website. I’ll need to come up with a name. And a logo. What else? Oh my gosh, I’m going to need so many things.”

  Mila laughs softly. “Slow down. You don’t have to do everything all at once. You have plenty of time to figure things out.”

  I flush. “You’re right. I need to think things through first. I mean, I haven’t even chosen a house yet. Maybe none of the ones we look at are going to be right. How did you know this was the one?”

  She glances down at Milana, who seems to be fast asleep with her tiny fist clutching her mother’s shirt, before raising her gaze to me. “It’s going to sound crazy, but the moment I stepped through the front door, I swear I heard a baby laugh. It wasn’t loud, but it was so clear. Every room we walked through just felt more like home. I pictured a little dark-haired boy chasing after a slightly older blonde girl. I just knew. The same way you will.”

  “I hope so. Although, I hate that I just moved back in here, and I’m leaving again already.” I thought I’d miss my room in the dormitory at Francesca’s place more, but being back here with my sister and Pierce has been really nice. Especially seeing Milana every day.

  “You’re going to be a married woman soon. You’ll need your own space. Besides, between Marta and Moira, this little lady has plenty of people willing to step up and help any time.”

  After Salvatore Ricci died, Marta, his former quasi nurse and assistant, appointed herself adoptive grandmother to Emilio and Brenna’s children as well as Milana. She and Paddy’s mom are always offering to watch the kids.

  “Still, I’ll miss seeing you all every day and having family dinners.”

  “You’ll be so busy with your new life, you won’t have time to miss us,” Mila says. “And we’re not going anywhere. You can come over any time you want. Our house is open to you if ever you need it.”

  I nod, still a bit uneasy and uncertain. I shouldn’t be. It’s not as though I’m moving to another city. Merely a few miles, at most, away. It’s just that I’ve never really lived on my own. Before, I lived with Mila. The dormitory at Francesca’s community house had always been bustling with handfuls of rescued women coming and going. To me, it always felt like what a college dorm experience would have been had I ever made it there.

  There hadn’t really ever been any moments of peace and quiet. Even when I shut myself in my room. Too many women roaming around. What will quiet even feel like?

  “You’ve been the best sister a girl could ever ask for,” I say, compelled to make sure Mila knows. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you that.”

  “I love you, Anya. I only ever want you to be happy.”

  “I love you, too.” It’s like I told Mila before. I don’t know if I’ll ever be truly happy. Not after everything I’ve been through. But I plan on doing everything I can to at least be content. I’m not sure I deserve more than that.

  Chapter 11

  Paddy

  * * *

  For the second time this week, I knock on Pierce’s front door. I didn’t check ahead and make sure he’d be gone. If we’re going to be brothers-in-law, we’re going to have to learn to be in the same room with each other. The lock clicks, and it swings open.

  Sure enough, he stands on the other side of it. His brown eyes, one bordered by a giant blue, purple, and green bruise, along with several stitches, burn with heated emotion. His jaw appears to be swollen. This is the first I’ve seen him since our altercation at Gallo’s. I’ll admit a small bit of pride at the damage I inflicted.

  Pierce’s gaze bores deep into mine. He doesn’t step aside and let me in. Merely stands in the doorway, blocking it.

  “Is that Paddy?” Anya calls from behind him.

  With slow movements, he finally takes a few paces back, his gaze locked on me. It’s clear he hasn’t accepted this marriage, and maybe never will. A lifetime of dealing with Pierce’s bullshit is almost enough for me to tell Anya I’ve changed my mind. She appears beside him looking far younger than the twenty-three I vaguely remember her being.

  “Hi,” she greets me with a shy smile.

  “Hello, yourself,” I return.

  Her long, blonde hair is pulled up in a high, smooth ponytail, and she’s wearing minimal makeup. I can’t help but quickly scan her body like any healthy twenty-nine-year-old man who appreciates a beautiful woman would. Pierce growls deep and low. Anya lightly elbows him in the side. I meet his gaze and smile broadly. With teeth. Maybe Jack is right, and I do have a brain injury.

  “We should probably go,” she notes. “Let me just grab my bag.”

  She hustles away, and Pierce and I go back to our staring contest. My smile remains, but I’ve at least tempered it enough to not look like a maniac with a death wish. Only seconds pass, and Anya reappears. She rises up on tiptoe and brushes a kiss across her brother-in-law’s cheek. I could almost swear she whispers, “Behave,” while she’s at it.

  Anya sneaks past him, and I move out of her way. I salute Pierce and follow her down the pathway out to my car. Rushing to get there first, I open the passenger door for her. She sends me a questioning glance as though no one has ever done that before.

  “My mother taught me to be a gentleman,” I tell her.

  “Thank you,” she says and climbs in.

  Once I’m sure she’s settled, I shut the door, circle the vehicle, and get behind the wheel. Unlike the Italians, I’ve noticed I don’t like being chauffeured around. I’d rather drive myself. Both of my brothers do, as well.

  After a few minutes on the road, I glance over at Anya. She’s gazing out her window, seemingly fixated on the passing scenery. I observe her a second longer. She doesn’t act nervous. In fact, there seems to be a buzz of excitement surrounding her.

  “There are three houses on the agenda today,” I announce and turn my eyes back to the road. “They all sound like they meet your requirements.”

  Anya shifts in my direction. “And if they don’t?”

  “I guess, we’ll keep looking.” Although I hope one of them is what she wants. The idea of continuing to look at real estate isn’t my idea of a good time. I’d made Nathan tour our brownstone before we bought it. My only requirements had been separate floors for our bedrooms and the man cave with the full bar and a large enough area to set up my gaming system and fifty-five-inch television. Otherwise, I hadn’t cared.

  “You know what I’m looking for in a house,” Anya says. “What about you? If we’re going to live together, I should probably know a little bit about you.”

  I cast a quick glance in her direction. Why does she want to know anything about me? “I probably won’t spend a lot of time there, so I don’t really have any preferences.”

  Her expression shutters slightly at my dismissal, but she recovers quickly. “I already have plans for my sewing room.”

  “You sew?” I ask, then curse myself for asking. It isn’t necessary for us to learn anything about each other. This is strictly a business arrangement where we’re supposed to live separate lives.

  Anya nods excitedly. “I taught myself when I was younger. I make a lot of my own clothes, too. Pierce bought me this top-of-the-line sewing machine a couple years ago. I’m thinking of opening an online boutique and selling the things I make.”

  “That’s pretty impressive.” Once again, I look over. Did she make the shirt she’s wearing that highlights her curves more than I’d guess she would like if she realized it?

  An adorable flush spreads up Anya’s neck and onto her cheeks. “It’s nothing really special. Besides, who knows if anyone would even buy them?” She shrugs with almost self-deprecation. “It’s just a hobby of mine, really.”

  “I play the occasional video game.” Almost before the last word releases, I snap my mouth shut.

  “Really?” She laughs softly. “I never would have pegged you for a gamer.”

  “I wouldn’t say I’m a ‘gamer’. It’s not like I spend hours in front of the television. It’s just that, sometimes, I like to decompress. Video games are how I do it.” The first house on our list comes into view.

  “Maybe you can show me how to play one of these days.”

  I come to a stop in front of the large three-story and put the car in park. That little twitch behind my eye I get when a woman acts a bit too friendly and familiar starts up. I turn and face Anya. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say, trying to curb my tone so I don’t sound like a complete asshole.

  She blinks a few times, and her head jerks a fraction. “Did I say something wrong?”

  Feck. “Not ‘wrong’, per se. It’s only that…we’re not friends who hang out together. Just because we’re getting married doesn’t mean we’re going to suddenly become this couple.”

  “I didn’t say we were,” she snaps, her expression full of hurt. “How does you showing me how to play a video game equate to us being a couple?”

  I release a breath and rub my hand through my hair. “I just don’t want you to forget our arrangement. We’re only doing this to get our families off our backs.”

  Anya swallows and a sheen washes over her eyes, but it’s gone in an instant. “You’re right. I’m sorry I said anything.”

  She doesn’t wait for me, but instead, nearly leaps out of the vehicle and hurries toward the front door, her back straight as an arrow. Goddamn it. I slowly exit the car and follow. The realtor steps onto the front porch.

  “Mr. Donnelly, welcome. I’m Byron,” he greets me with an outstretched hand, completely ignoring Anya. Already, I don’t like him. We shake, and I don’t even regret making him wince with my grip.

  “Yes, well,” he says, trying to discreetly stretch out his fingers. “Let’s take a look around, why don’t we?”

  He holds the door open and gestures for us to precede him. Out of habit, I place my hand on Anya’s lower back to guide her in. She flinches and hops a small step forward, breaking the connection. My arm drops to my side. Right. No touching, then.

  Byron begins his sales pitch while we walk through the house. I glance around. It’s nice enough, I suppose. My gaze lands on Anya, and I watch as she takes in the place. There is zero interest or excitement in her eyes. In fact, she appears bored. As though she’d rather be anywhere but here. It’s pretty clear she’s not impressed with the place. Can’t say I blame her.

  “I’m going to stop you there, Byron,” I interrupt his spiel about the state-of-the-art kitchen appliances that were recently installed.

  He glances over at me in surprise. Even Anya seems startled. “Is everything okay?” he asks.

  “I don’t think this is the right place for us.”

  “But we haven’t even made it upstairs yet,” Byron nearly whines.

  “Don’t need to. I can already tell this house isn’t what we’re looking for,” I say firmly.

  Anya moves closer to me. “Padraig is right. It’s a lovely home, though. It’s just not the right one for us.”

  The realtor pales a little. His gaze bounces back and forth between her and me. Finally, he clears his throat and recovers with a sickly smile, most likely for losing out on a sale. “Of course. I’m sorry this one didn’t work out for you. Good luck with your search.”

  I nod politely, and with a quick head tilt toward Anya, she crosses the room toward the front door. I’m right behind her. Neither of us speak until we get back in the car.

  “How’d you know?” she asks.

  “What?”

  “That it wasn’t our house,” she clarifies.

  “By the look on your face,” I tell her.

  She blinks adorably. Like a baby owl. “I didn’t realize I was that easy to read.” There’s a leery caution in her tone.

  I give her a half smile. “You went on for almost twenty minutes about a sewing room. I can gauge when you’re excited about something. And that house did not excite you.”