Page 11 of House of Sin
All eyes turned toward me. A flutter of nerves sparked in my chest, but their warmth anchored me. Maeve, Elona, Violet, Emil, and Nell: My chosen family. The ones who pulled me back from the brink.
I moved to the grand oval table, hugging each of them in turn with a smile, a glance, and a silent thank you at every stop. I slid into the green velvet chair at the head of the table. Maeve had placed sunflowers in the center, my favorite flower.
Maeve broke the silence, eyes sparkling with amusement. “Well, Mass was a joyfully devious experience. I quite enjoyed the attention. Loads of familiar faces, maleandfemale.” She wiggled her brows and winked.
Violet laughed. “I bet our presence will cause a busy week at The Oily Cat.Can’t say I’m complaining.”
“Oh, there’ll be a rush for sure,” Elona added. “I’mcertainI saw some stiff pants on the way out.”
Everyone laughed, myself included, and the tightness in my chest from the day softened. This kind of easy teasing, thiscamaraderie, was balm for a soul too often left raw.
But then Emil’s voice broke through the chatter. “May I say grace?”
Normally, I would have given the blessing, but not tonight. Tonight, I needed to let someone else carry it. I nodded.
Silence fell and we joined hands, Violet to my right, Elona to my left. Their touch was grounding, a wordless assurance saying,We’ve got you.
Emil began. “Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Bless The Oily Cat in the upcoming week so that we may prosper. Watch over Maeve, Elona, and Violet while they’re behind closed doors with the men and women of Your making. Watch over my wife, Nell, who so dutifully follows in Your word.”
I could tell my name was next—the slight pause in his prayer, the crack in his voice, the way both girls on either side of me were rubbing my hand with their thumbs like they already knew.
“And Lord, please hold Bernadette close to Your heart tonight. For as You know, she will need to feel Your love and comfort more now than ever.”
His words stung and I blinked hard. I couldn’t fall apart, not yet, and certainly not here. “Amen.” Emil whispered, barely louder than a breath.
“Amen.” we repeated in unison, the word rippling softly through the room like the closing of a prayer and the opening of a wound.
I drew in a breath, letting the stew’s aroma fill the space around us, rich and earthy, the unmistakable scent of Guinness beer and slow-roasted meat. My stomach gave a low growl in protest, but it was difficult not to focus on the deep emotion within my being that the day represented.
We ate in silence, the soft clink of silverware the only sound in the room. I reached for my napkin, soft linen edged with delicate Celtic knots, Maeve’s embroidery. Each thread precise and thoughtful. Eventually, I found my voice. “Today ... today marks two years since the worst day of my life,” I began, swallowing hard. My throat closed up on the words, but I pushed through, one syllable at a time. “And I just wanted to say thank you. If not for you, Emil, Nell ...” I looked between them, searching for their eyes. “I wouldn’t be here.”
The room stilled in the wake of my words, as if the walls themselves had gone quiet to honor what had been spoken. Nothing moved and no one spoke. But the silence didn’t feel empty. It felt full and understood.
“There was a time,” I recalled, my voice barely rising above the gentle scrape of cutlery, “when I welcomed death. When I wanted it. Truly wanted it. And some days ...” I paused, glancing down at my hands, clenched so tightly in my lap that my knuckles had gone pale. “Some days, I still think about it.”
The admission sat there, raw and unguarded. “But you saved me,” I continued, forcing the words past the ache in my throat. “All of you. You helped me stand again. You reminded me there was something worth staying for, and I love you for that. I hope you know that. I hope youfeelit.”
My voice cracked on the last word. No one spoke right away. They didn’t need to. Their eyes, full of quiet knowing, said enough.
Nell’s smile came first, carrying a warmth that spoke volumes. Emil gave me a slow nod, his gaze warm, the gesture simple but grounding.
Eventually, the conversation shifted, and by the grace of God or sheer stubbornness, it found its way to safer ground. Talk turned to the week ahead, to work at The Oily Cat. Clients we loved, clients we merely tolerated, and the usual gossip threaded with stories so wild they bordered on folklore.
“Literal shit,” Elona blurted, finger pointed dramatically to the ceiling. “I pulled my finger out of his ass, and there was actualshiton it!”
“For fuck’s sake,” Emil muttered, the edge of his voice cutting as his expression curdled from stoic to disgusted.
We howled. Chairs creaked as bodies doubled over and glasses rattled on the table. I could barely breathe. “What did you expect?” I managed between gasps, my ribs aching. “The man had skid marks in his tighty-whities!”
“Honestly,” Violet added, swiping at her eyes with the corner of her sleeve, “that guy should come with a damn warning label. I knew something was off thesecond he asked for a wet towel and whiskey in the same breath.”
Maeve snorted into her wineglass, nearly spilling it. “Ah, sure, he’s a lad of refined taste,” she said, voice thick with sarcasm. “Clearly.”
Elona leaned back in her chair, swirling her wine with one hand, the other draped dramatically across her chest. “You thinkthat’sbad?” She asked, eyes twinkling. “I had the Meow Man again last week.”
Violet gasped so loudly you’d think someone had slapped her. “He’sstillaround? I thought he moved to Billings!”
“Nope,” Elona said, dragging the word out with all the disdain it deserved. She rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might detach. “Apparently he’s back, and he’s upgraded his act. This time, he wore a tail. Atail. And insisted I call him Sir Whiskerbottom.”
