Page 3 of Honorable Sins

I make another circuit around the tree with the lights while I wait for him to continue.

When I hand Fitz the light string again, he meets my gaze, his serious. "I don't think he loves her."

"Why is that then?" I ask, not really fashed one way or the other if my brother loves his wife.

But something about their dynamic bothers my son.

"When we visited them in March, I saw him with someone."

Someone not Fiona and doing something that Fitz has been chewing on for the past three months. I don't know if my brother has a mistress, but even if he did, I have a hard time believing he did something indiscreet where his nephew could see him.

"Is it something that you maybe misunderstood?" Kara asks.

"No." Fitz is definite.

"What happened?" I ask.

"Remember when we went out to dinner with everybody?"

"Aye. I remember." Protection was a logistical nightmare with that many primaries to guard.

"I went to the bathroom, but when I came out, it sounded like someone around the corner was sick, or something. They were moaning." Fitz's cheeks burnish red. "But it wasn't that."

"Why don't you two let me finish the lights?" Kara puts her hand out for the light strand. "And you can go talk about this."

But Fitz and I shake our heads at the same time. "We'll talk after we're finished." I nod at Fitz. "Right, boyo?"

Relief washes over his features. "Right, da."

Seeing his uncle macking on a woman in the hallway of a restaurant is probably not something he wants to talk about in front of his mam anyway. The fact he started the conversation here and now says a lot about how heavily it's been weighing on him.

After we string the lights, Kara sends us into the kitchen to "make cocoa" as an excuse for us to talk privately while the little ones "help her" finish decorating the tree.

I text an order to the kitchen for cocoa and include the guard on the entrance to our wing in the text thread so he expects it.

"That's your idea of making cocoa?" Fitz asks with preteen sarcasm.

I lift my brows. "Aye. You have something to say about that?"

"No, da. Not at all." Fitz tries to hide his smirk.

I roll my eyes. "I'm not your mam. I'm more like to scorch the milk than anything."

"There are packets. You only add hot water."

"I like it made from scratch better." More to the point, so does Kara.

Fitz rolls his eyes. "As long as you're not the one making it."

"Aye. A smart man learns to use his skills and let others use theirs." I lean against the counter.

"I'll remember that." There's no sarcasm in my son's tone now.

I nod. "You'll be glad you did."

Fitz looks around the kitchen, his gaze landing everywhere but on me.

When he finally lets our eyes meet, I know he's ready to talk. "Uncle Adam had his hand up the lady's skirt and he was kissing her like you do mom sometimes."