Page 9 of Arranged Scars
“Good night, Caroline.”
I rush out of there. I don’t feel entirely safe until I’m back on the dirty sidewalk where I belong, almost jogging toward the nearest bus stop, praying I’ll catch the last one. Meanwhile, the glass dome at the top of his building glitters in the moonlight, and I find it hard to believe I was just up there, if something like that is even possible. Probably not. Just a nightmare, that’s all.
3
FINN
Declan stands behind his desk and pours two glasses of whiskey. I swear, he’s turning into our father with every passing day. He doesn’t have Papa’s lighthearted joy, but he’s got that gravitas, that Don seriousness, like everything he does is imbued with some special meaning.
It’s annoying as fuck.
I accept the whiskey though. I have a rule: never turn down an expensive drink, but always reject the cheap ones.
“I got a report from Seamus last night. Seems your properties are outearning just about everyone.” Declan sounds surprised, which should piss me off but doesn’t. I’m good at keeping that part of me slammed down into my deepest recesses. I keep on smiling and acting like good old Finn, so charming and easygoing. “I’m happy with your work.”
“I always knew I had it in me,” I quip.
He smiles slightly. “If only you applied even half your abilities to your work, your locations would triple everyone else.”
“That sounds almost like a compliment.”
“It wasn’t.”
“How’s Mom doing?”
“You know her. Go ask her yourself.”
I wave a hand. “She always pretends like she’s completely fine and life is great, but I’m pretty sure she’s physically weaker than she’s ever been and she never got over Dad dying.”
“That about sums it up.” Declan frowns toward the door. “She won’t talk to me about it though. I was hoping you could get through.”
“I’ll try, but don’t expect much.”
“You’re her favorite, you know that?”
“Obviously. I’m everyone’s favorite.” Which isn’t true. Not remotely. Not Mom’s, not anyone’s, and that’s by design. “How’s Casey been? I haven’t seen her around.”
“She’s busy with the kids. But I’ll tell her you were asking after her.”
“Please do.” I take a long drink, already dreading getting to the point of this conversation.
But leave it to Declan to get right to business. “We need to talk about the Flanagan girl.”
“I figured that’s what you called me in for.”
“It’s been weeks, Finn.”
“Has it really?” I sip my drink and swirl it. “Hadn’t noticed.”
“Have you spoken to her yet?”
I frown slightly. The memory of sweat, gasps, and laughter. A girl floating on her back in the moonlight. “Not exactly.”
“I’m getting impatient.”
“What do you care? It’s going to happen. I agreed to marry her.” Despite how disgusting and unclean it makes me feel. “And you said I could approach her on my own schedule.”
“Yes, but your schedule has limits. Eamon Flanagan’s getting impatient.”
