Page 44 of Hustle

“You wanted the truth.” He sighs. “The truth is that I’ve been holding you at arm’s length because I thought it was the logical decision. The one that would keep everyone safe and would create some kind of, I don’t know, sanitized life I never lost control of.”

There’s a long moment of silence and then he adds, very quietly, “That way it’d be impossible for me to let anyone down.”

As if I haven’t had enough shocks today, Hank jumps next to Seamus, not purring, but not growling either. He drapes his big, fluffy black tail over Seamus’ lap.

“It’s like the Tarot cards,” I say, placing a hand on Seamus’ thigh. Hank flicks his tail across my hand. “You have a lot to carry, but you can put some of it down. The world is about taking what you’re offered, too, and not just holding the whole thing on your shoulders.”

I lean closer, my lips hovering over his. “I always thought we were opposites, but now I think we’re more like two sides of the same coin.” I kiss him and press my forehead against his. All the fighting, all the miscommunications. All because we’re both stubborn in our own way. I thread my hands behind his neck.

“I love you too, Seamus.”

15

Seamus

Her lips against mine almost make me forget why I’d come in the first place. And then she’d said she loved me too, and I wonder if I’ll be able to string words together.

“Why don’t I get us some tea?” I say.

“That’d be great. It’s in the cabinet to the left of the fridge.”

I almost feel bad disturbing the cat. This is the first time he’s shown anything but pure disdain for me, but I need to share the news with Evi, and her proximity is making it hard to concentrate.

She watches me move around her space wearily. She needs time for her adrenaline to ease off. Seeing her trying to hammer through that brick wall scared me for her. It’s not that I blame her.

If someone were taking the Kildare, I’d be damned if I let anyone but family touch one goddamn brick. But I don’t think Evi would’ve cared if the building caved in on top of her. In fact, part of me wonders if that’s what she was hoping for. But I understand her love for her work, and I was wrong at eighteen to try to force her down my path.

She’s talented, she’s built a hell of a thing, and her work is being recognized. All those things matter. This is where Evi’s heart and soul are, and that’s enough for me.

A few minutes pass and the kettle I’d dropped on the stovetop whistles, letting me know the water is boiled. Turning off the gas, I pour the steaming water over a chamomile tea bag. I pass it to her, and she sets it on the coffee table, letting it steep.

Even with her smeared makeup, she looks stunning. I’ve always been exasperated by her hot temper, but having felt her despair as she’d sagged against me earlier, I realize even more how I never want to see her without that fire. And how much I want – and need - that fire in my life.

“So,” I say, sitting close to her. “Julia, my librarian friend.”

“Always with the librarians,” she scoffs, playing with the string of the tea bag. But the affection in her eyes is unmistakable, and it’s all for me.

“She found the records, Evi.”

“Anything good?” Her flames are kindling again.

I nod. “It’s pretty fitting, actually. These buildings were a string of boarding houses back at the turn of the twentieth century. They were eventually occupied mostly by immigrants, a bunch of whom turned it into an artists’ collective. There’s a big mural on the end of your shop by an artist who was in his art deco phase.”

“Where?” she asks, looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. “I’ve never seen it.”

“They bricked over it,” I reply. “Right where you were swinging your hammer. The whole block has historical value. It was a hotbed for literature and theater and art. After World War II, everything changed and they wanted to modernize the area, which of course meant covering up all the local character. But who knows what kinds of treasures are in these spaces.”

She’s quiet and hasn’t touched the tea.

“Evi?” I ask. “Are you okay?” I expected some kind of jubilant reaction.

She nods. “Do you really think the historical commission will go for it?”

I nod enthusiastically. “Wait till you see that mural, Evi. It reminds me a little of your Empress. We may have to pay to help restore it, but we can find plenty of grants for that, no problem, especially with your connections in the art world.”

I observe her for another moment and think back to my conversation with my father. Evi has been fighting her whole life. I’d told her I loved her, but maybe that’s not enough. And maybe she needs to know how capable I think she is.

“I’m not going anywhere, Evi. And if there’s another battle, we’ll face it together. I’m sorry that I’ve made you feel like I don’t trust you to handle things. It’s just that I hate that you’ve had to fight so goddamn hard all the time, and all on your own.”

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