Page 107 of Mob Star

“Ignore Frick over there. Frick and Frack are just jealous their older brother still beats them at everything.” Ronan grins, and I’m seeing an older version of Finn who could be his brother not his father.

“I never said I wanted a girlfriend.”

I’m pretty sure that was Shane muttering. I’m positive when Cormac pushes his shoulder and laughs. He gets a jab in.

“Don’t pout. Nana used to say you’ll trip over that lip.”

I suck my lips in and try not to laugh, but Breda whispers to me, and I fail.

“Go ahead and laugh. You’ll pop if you don’t.”

It comes out somewhere between choking and snorting. I want to sink into the ground.

“You feel better now, don’t you?” Ronan waggles his eyebrows.

What have I walked into? I ask myself that a second time. My family jokes around, but nothing like what I’ve seen in the five minutes I’ve been here. Finn was right. They accepted me when they heard about me. Putting a face to the name was just a technicality. I feel part of the family already. Finn guides me to one of the three sofas in the sprawling— what else do you call a space this large —family room. Before we sit, the other two couples join us. The women kiss Finn’s cheek, while the men hug him. All four offer me kind smiles that match Ronan and Breda’s.

“Thea, this is Auntie Siobhan and Uncle Tate. They got stuck with Dillan. And this is Auntie Saoirse and Uncle Kieran. They claim their sons are the nice ones. Seamus and Cormac just never got caught.”

“So, they’re the smart ones.” The comment pops out of my mouth before I know what I’m saying.

Cormac and Seamus walk over. Seamus snags my hand and gives it a little tug, so I step away from Finn, but I’m still holding his hand. They give me a kiss on each cheek, then smirk at Finn. Cormac has all the jokes tonight.

“I think we made Finn cry.”

“You must have been the ones who stole everyone else’s toys.” I test the waters with that one.

“They did.” Dillan chimes in before his wife playfully covers his mouth with her hand, leaving only a garbled sound coming from him.

“See why we like her as much as Mair.” Sean’s the picture of an angel, which clearly fools no one since his parents don’t even look in his direction. Breda speaks to me instead.

“I’ll say the same thing to you as I did Mair the night she met all of us. They weren’t raised in a barn. They just spent all their time there. Ignore their nonsense. Come and have a seat. Dinner’s almost ready.”

Finn and I sit on the empty loveseat, and there’s a lull for a moment. Blessedly, Mair comes to the rescue.

“Are you busy at work?”

“No more than usual. We’ve had a few particularly challenging cases, but we’ve also sent several babies home in the last two weeks. That makes up for the long days.”

“You’re a pediatrician?” Saoirse sounds genuinely interested.

“A neonatologist. I specialize in babies born with complications.”

Saoirse’s expression turns sad for a moment before she glances at Seamus. “Shay was nine weeks early. He spent a month in the NICU. We had a fantastic neonatologist who explained everything at least three times for our sleep deprived— and my hormonal —brains to understand. Thank God for the nurses who would play with Cormac while we were with Seamus. Cor was just over seven months old. Irish twins, I know. You’d never guess Shay was a preemie then or now. He weighed four pounds six ounces.”

My gaze jumps to Seamus. You’d never believe the man who looks like he eats bodybuilders for breakfast was considered very preterm. Babies born at thirty-two weeks, the cusp of very and moderately preterm, are usually just shy of four pounds. At thirty-one weeks, he probably looked gigantic in the incubator. He catches me looking at him and flexes his pecs like Terry Cruz.

“Showoff.” Saoirse sounds playfully exasperated with her son.

I hear a timer go off in the kitchen. Ronan, Tate, and Kieran rise and head into the kitchen. I shouldn’t find that surprising, but I do.

“Kieran’s the best baker in the family.” Saoirse is about to say more when Seamus cuts in.

“Because Cormac’s such a whiner.” The younger brother looks like he’d stick his tongue out at the older brother is they were five.

“My body is a temple.”

Dillan snorts. “You were praying to the porcelain god last Halloween. I’m damn positive that whiskey wasn’t vegan.”

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