“No. Hasn’t she had Cillian for like a year now?” Haley asks. “Scotty, when did you leave her detail?”
“The night you treated the boss,” he says.
“Oh.” Haley stops in her tracks. “It was because of me?”
“What? No.” Scotty promises her it’s unrelated. “I was due for a rotation. I’d asked Sean to move me the week before, he was just being stubborn because Saoirse has a history of escaping her protection.”
“And you stopped that,” Haley sings, a broad smirk plastered on her face.
“No. Nothing like that. I think she just grew bored of whatever games she was playing. She tried a few, but I was always one step ahead of her.”
“I’m sure you were.” She laughs.
I know nothing ever happened between the two, and it never would, but watching the blush creep into his cheeks and dust the back of his neck is just too easy.
Scotty hates being accused of any type of insubordination. I once convinced him that I ratted him out to Paddy for picking a bar fight, which can get the soldiers in a lot of trouble. It’d been a complete lie, and when he found out it wasn’t true, he didn’t speak to me for a week.
“You’re ridiculous. The both of you. You’re going to get me killed if you keep up with these rumors.”
“Scotty’s back to his regular type A self. Think that means we can put him back in the guard rotation,” Haley says, pushing his buttons a little more.
“Capital punishment is illegal in Massachusetts. I’ll gladly serve time for murder. Keep that in mind.”
Haley bursts into a fit of giggles at Scotty’s threat. “It may not be legal, but Callum sure would see to it.”
“True,” I say. “I don’t know, Scotty, seems like you probably shouldn’t make empty threats.”
Scotty huffs, opening the front door. “Let’s go. Wouldn’t want the boss to have a fit for being late.”
“Rian is grabbing my mom?” I ask.
“Yeah. He’ll get the Murphy parents and then your mom.”
I exhale, trying to force out all of my nerves, and prepare myself to have the courage to deal with whatever is tossed my way today. “Let’s go get this shitshow over with.”
Chapter Nineteen
Griffin’sheadfallsontomy shoulder while I unlock the door to my apartment. We’re legally married, but still not together in any romantic capacity, and it’s been a weird day to process. The love of my life has feigned attraction and love toward me all day, while secretly hating me deep beneath the facade. And now, here we are, exhausted and most definitely drunk.
We stumble in and head for the kitchen, our stomachs grumbling. “This actually wasn’t a bad day.” He yawns. “Quiet and drama free. I was really thinking something crazy was going to happen.”
I chuckle, running my hands through his hair. “Like what?”
He steps away, hurrying to the fridge. “An Italian take over? A Russian mobster claiming we’re in his territory? A pregnant woman speaking now before she was forced to forever hold her peace?”
My smile widens with his sarcastic suggestions. Resting my elbows on the countertop, I watch as Griffin rummages through the freezer. He pulls out a container of ice cream, then searches for a spoon. I can definitely get used to seeing him so comfortable in my kitchen.
“Camille doesn’t matter, Michael. Not the way you do.”
He takes a bite. “I know. But you can’t blame her for wanting to raise her child with his father. I certainly don’t.”
“We’ll have to set boundaries. But we can make it work.” I swipe the spoon from him and scoop my own bite.
“We don’t know that for sure, Paddy. We won’t know until we see how tomorrow goes. Her father could kill you.”
“If he did that, he’d be very fucking stupid, baby. It’s beyond an act of war at that point. It’s going against a blood tie.”
He sighs, shaking his head. “I don’t know. I just have a bad feeling about this whole thing. And I don’t think Camille is going to respond to our marriage very well.”
