Page 87 of Ruthless Dream

Nat travelled from Brooklyn, something that Mom insists she doesn’t do enough.

It’s a complete Akatov family gathering. My parents are at the heads of the table, my two sisters sitting on the opposite side of Ciaran and me. There’s pasta and green beans, and usually I’d be tearing into garlic bread.

Instead, I carefully cut up my pasta. Ciaran just made me come in my childhood bedroom with my parents downstairs, but God forbid I get some spaghetti sauce on my chin.

My thighs press together. I’d rushed to the bathroom after Lennie texted me. I’d cleaned myself up, spritzed on some perfume, and then tumbled downstairs like it was no big deal, hauling Ciaran with me. I’m the only person in pajamas. Everyone including him, is in nicer clothes.

Putting on some jeans wouldn’t have fixed anything, though. Dad’s glare is pointedly on either his wife or Ciaran.

Apparently, there has been some great betrayal between husband and wife because Mom let the fox in the henhouse.

God, Dad would lose it if he knew what Ciaran did to me upstairs. What I had done to him.

I shovel food into my mouth, hoping no one will notice my red cheeks.

“So exactly how long are you planning on being here?” Nat asks, not giving a fuck that we’re all awkwardly silent.

Ciaran pauses his eating. His button-down is rolled up, his forearms on display. It’s completely unfair how the look does something to make my belly go so swoopy.

“He hasn’t even finished eating,” I tell Nat.

“I meant in America,” she clarifies. “Are you, like, on a work visa or?”

I shoot my sister a look, and I’m gratified to realize Mom has as well. Obviously Ciaran’s got a visa; however, his work isn’t accurately reflected on the application.

“Or do you have dual citizenship?” Nat asks, and my skin tingles. She’s being too nosy. “Your dad’s been here long enough, right? That he’s got citizenship.”

“Did you map out his family tree?” I ask, shooting her a look as I sip my wine. Dad never cares when we drink at home, but he purses his lips.

“Are we not supposed to know who his dad is?” Nat asks. “Okay, sorry. The question still stands, though. Are you putting down roots or planning on traveling back to Ireland anytime soon?”

“You must miss your family,” Mom says.

He nods.

“I’m sure they miss you too,” Dad says, cutting his green beans. “You’ll probably want to see them again soon.”

“Dad,” I murmur.

Ciaran’s lips twitch.

“Do you have a large family?” Lennie asks, flushing. She’s trying hard, making an effort to chat even if our family is going slightly nuts.

“On the O’Connell side, sure,” Dad answers darkly. Mom throws him a look, some silent caution passing between them.

I touch Ciaran’s thigh, but he merely smiles down at his food before answering Lennie. “I’ve got one older brother. My mam is in Dublin too. And Nora.”

“Nora?” Lennie asks.

“Nora Hayes,” he replies. “My brother Ian’s mam.”

My parents say nothing, but I see that they recognize the name. Mom sits back in her chair, her finger playing with the stem of her wineglass.

“Your brother didn’t want to come to New York?” Nat asks.

“No.” It’s all Ciaran says.

The brothers are close. When Ciaran speaks about him, there’s a smile in his eye even when he shakes his head in frustration. I’d like to see them interact someday. But he’s also told me that Ian shies away from the other O'Connells, some divide even though they all know each other.