Page 78 of Faithless Vows

My da stands first, and Seamus follows him toward the dining room. As they go, Da puts an arm around Seamus’s shoulders and pulls him in for a quick hug, clapping him once on the back before letting go. I hang back a step, watching them.

I take my usual seat at the table and immediately feel my jaw tighten. The place beside me has been set for Mick again. My mam still does it, stubbornly refusing to accept that he hasn’t come to one of these dinners in months. I glance at my da, but he just gives me a small shake of his head, silently telling me to leave it alone.

These days, the only time I see Mick is at work, and even then, it’s usually because I’ve had to pull him aside. He’s been getting a bit too big for his boots lately. Stepping out of line. Acting like the rules don’t apply to him. From what I’ve been hearing, he’s been asking around about spots in New York and Chicago. Halfway out of Southie already. Far as I’m concerned, he can go.

Used to be, that kind of move would’ve been a serious problem. You don’t just jump ship when it suits you. But my da, Seamus, and I have already talked it through. Better to let Mick think he’s choosing to leave than keep him here until he does something we can’t ignore. The longer this drags on, the less surprised I am it’s come to this.

Dinner passes with my mam and Siobhán talking about Mass and Father Sullivan’s sermon while my da, Seamus, and I fall into work talk. My da asks how the new products are moving at the docks—the televisionsets and pharmaceuticals I’ve been testing—and whether I think it’s worth bringing more in. The old rackets still earn, but times are changing, and the way he asks tells me he trusts my judgment again. It feels good.

When my mam starts clearing the plates and asks if anyone wants tea or coffee with dessert, I push my chair back and say, “I’m going to head out.”

My da walks me to the door, and before we reach it, my mam comes after us with a plate wrapped in foil. “Here,” she says, pressing it into my hands. “There’s ham and potatoes. Take it with you.”

I take the plate. “Thanks, Mam.” She pulls me into a quick hug and kisses my cheek before letting me go.

My da gives me a pat on the shoulder. “Have a good night, son,” he says.

“You too,” I tell him, then head out to the car.

When I get home, I let myself in and move through the quiet house. It doesn’t feel quite as bare as it did when I first came back from Ireland. Bit by bit, I’ve unpacked the boxes of Alannah’s things I hadn’t touched before I left, leaving little pieces of her everywhere. Her books line the shelves now, and her clothes hang in the wardrobe beside mine, just as they should have from the start. I told myself I was only putting things where they belonged, but the truth is, I couldn’t stand looking at the boxes anymore, and I couldn’t bring myself to send her things away.

Seamus’s question stays with me as I make my way to my office. On the desk is the letter to Alannah I’d finished before leaving for my parents’ house, already sealed and ready to post in the morning. I sit down, tear open the envelope, and pull the letter free. For a moment, I just stare at the page. Then I reach for my pen and add one last line at the bottom.

P.S. I saw your parents today. I know they hurt you, and I know you don’t owe them anything. But your da asked if you’d said anything to me about their letters while I was in Ireland. I thought you should know he asked after you.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Alannah

Finn walks me up the path to my front door, close enough that his hand brushes mine as we go. Since the dance a few weeks ago, he’s been determined to show me how serious he is about courting me. On Sundays, we sit together at Mass with our families on either side of us. There have been suppers at his house and mine, afternoon walks, and a few evenings at the pictures with friends. Even when his da or Grandda has work waiting for him, he always finds a way to see me. Like today—he still had things to finish, but he took me for tea first.

At the step, I turn to thank him for the afternoon, only to find him standing closer than I expect. His eyes hold mine, and when he leans in, my breath catches. For a second, I think he might actually kiss me. Not on my cheek, the way he usually does, but on my mouth.

“I had a really nice time with you today, Lannie,” he murmurs, then brushes a kiss to my cheek.

“Me too,” I say, a little too quickly. My cheeks heat as soon as the words are out. I feel foolish for thinking he meant to kiss me, and oddly relieved that he didn’t.

“I’ll see you soon,” he says.

“Soon,” I echo, then let myself inside.

The moment the front door closes behind me, I hear Grandda call from the kitchen. “Maura? Is that you?”

“It’s me, Grandda,” I call back, shrugging out of my coat and toeing off my boots before following his voice into the kitchen. I find him at the table with a loaf of soda bread in front of him, a thick slice already cut, butter and jam beside it, and the teapot near his mug.

“Ah, Alannah girl,” he says, looking up. “Come and sit. Have a bit with me. Your Aunt Maeve wasn’t feeling well today, so your grandmam ran over with some soup.” Now that he mentions it, I realize I didn’t see her at Mass that morning.

I take a plate and a mug from the dresser and sit down at the table. Grandda reaches for the loaf, cuts me off a piece, and sets it on my plate. I spread butter over it while he fills my mug. “Thanks, Grandda.”

“Was that Finn dropping you home?” he asks.

I nod, spooning some jam onto my bread.

He watches me as I spread it. “You two have been spending a fair bit of time together lately.” A small smile touches his mouth. “Good lad, that Finn.” He takes a bite of his bread and chews before adding, “Steady. Good head on his shoulders. You’d be well looked after with a man like Finn.”

“We’re taking it slow,” I say, setting the spoon down and reaching for my tea.

This isn’t the first time I’ve heard this from Grandda. Ever since he found out I’d agreed to let Finn court me, he’s said some version of the same thing every chance he gets. And he isn’t wrong. Finn is a good man. Steady. Kind. The sort of man who would take care of me if I let him. But knowing all of that doesn’t stop my thoughts from going back to Ronin, the way they always do.