Page 10 of Irish Daddies


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My lies burn the back of my throat like rotten whiskey. I wear them like armor. I can hear our father’s voice, the words he rasped in his signature lilt before sending us off:You have loose ends to tie, boys, all of you. You know there’s a microscope on us right now. We can’t afford another mistake.

He might be right, but this is deeper than mistakes. This is blood. And blood is thicker than orders.

I need Caroline alive. I need those boys alive, at least until I can prove they’re ours. Crowley blood means something. If theybelong to one of us, they should be brought home and raised as the mafia princes they are.

Even if they don’t, I’m not sure I can pull the trigger. And I don’t know why.

And that terrifies me more than anything else Declan could do to me.

7

CAROLINE

The kids sit eagerlyaround the table, Juniper falling off her seat every once and a while as she buzzes with energy at the imminent arrival of macaroni and cheese.

Alaina scrapes the pot with a wooden spoon as I pour milk into cups. “Do you ever think we give them too much dairy?” I ask her, my hands gripping the plastic cup the boys got from a Putt-Putt place.

She gives me a scornful look and pulls one of her hairs out of a bowl of noodles, throwing it to the side. “Caroline, why do you hate your children?”

Laughing, I put lids on the cups. They’re mostly all old enough to drink without them, but when they get together, they knock everything over at twice the rate. “Okay, so not too much dairy, got it.”

“Never,” she emphasizes, bringing the plastic bowls to the kids two at a time. She rubs Aspen’s hair unconsciously before turning to get two more.

Juniper bounces in her seat. “Is it ready yet? Is it ready yet?”

“Coming now, noodle monster,” Alaina says, ruffling her hair.

Isaac points at the pot. “I want the crispy part!”

“There is no crispy part, it’s not baked,” I say.

“Then why does it smell crispy?” he counters, very seriously.

My phone rings in my pocket, and I answer without looking, expecting it to be another spam call. It’s always a spam call or a bill collector. I never finished college after that night at the club, but I did buy a house that the bank mercilessly reminds me still technically belongs to them. “Yes?” I sigh, bringing cups of milk over to the boys while they inhale their noodles.

“Well, that’s not a very welcoming hello,” says the caller, voice low and velvety.

My heart palpitates, skipping a small beat that makes me almost drop the milk as I set it down. I right it before it drips onto the table, and when Alaina shoots me an inquisitive look, I mouth, “It’s Paul.” I frantically point at the phone, and her mouth drops open as her eyes light up.

“Oh, hi! I thought you were a bill collector,” I say and instantly regret it, folding forward and dropping my forehead onto the kitchen counter. Alaina muffles a snicker into her hand. She comes over and rests one hand on my shoulder to get past me, taking the other two cups from me and handing them to her daughters.

Paul’s chuckle sounds different than I remember it, though it was only a few days ago that I heard it.Maybe his laugh could sound like homeflashes through my mind, and sweat breaks out on my forehead. “Well, I do have that bill collector voice. Comes with the job.”

“Right, insurance,” I say with a chuckle, and I toss my head back at the ceiling, wishing God would take me out. I bite my bottom lip, trying to breathe through this. A man hasn’t called me in a long time. I can’t even remember how to talk back.

Alaina stands next to me and leans against the counter, her eyebrows rising into her forehead as she watches the train wreck.

But Paul breezes right past it. “I was wondering if I could take you out this weekend. Maybe tomorrow?”

“Oh.” I look at Alaina with wide eyes and she waves her hand as though saying,Keep talking, and I say, “Well, I have my kids. I can’t just leave.”

After a beat, he says, “Well, you know, I could help you get a babysitter. I would cover it. Consider it part of the date.”

I shake my head. A creepy feeling starts to snake through me and take hold. “Pay…for the babysitter?”

Alaina nods her head excitedly, but I shake mine back at her. “Sure,” Paul says, a little too eagerly. “Caroline, I just want to take you out. That conversation I had with you was the best one I’ve had in a long time. You tell me what you need to go out with me this weekend.”

“I don’t think…they’ve never had a babysitter.”