Page 16 of Bartered Innocence

“You do, and I’ll share with ya if you tell me about yer woman.”

My tongue runs along the back of my teeth, and I grin. “I could just ask Aodhan. I’m sure he’s caught it.”

“That boy forgets to wash behind his ears. He’s caught fuck all.” He laughs, then grabs the towel to cover his mouth as he starts coughing.

The familiar sense of time with my father slipping through my fingers has my heart squeezing tighter. Especially when the effects of his disease are so violently in front of my face. A reminder of what is running amuck, and we are too late to stop it. A reminder of the years I spent away from this home, avoiding any acknowledgement of my mother’s death while leaving my other parent behind. Doctors told me that there’s nothing we could have done, that my father may or may not have had signs I could have seen if I was around, but we’ll never know. And at the end of the day, only he’s responsible for his health.

But that doesn’t comfort you while you watch your da slowly disappear in front of you. As every trace of him, the person you grew up admiring and watching, slowly dwindles to something else. A brutal testament to the mortality of men and how fast it goes. It’s part of why I agreed to the marriage, because I don’t want to lose any more of my family either.

Peace between us and the Famiglia seems impossible after decades of hatred sewn into our souls. While Isabelle is beautiful, and probably more than I deserve for a wife, she’s not the beacon of hope Luca is falsely portraying.

I sigh, a soft smile tips on my lips. “Ma would like her.”

“Yeah?”

Nodding, a laugh lurks in my throat. “She’s not afraid to give her opinion. She’s…uh, very passionate.”

“Ahh, so true Italian. Got a mouth on her. That’s good, son,” he says, chuckling softly. “You don’t want a resigned wife. You want a partner, someone who will challenge you, question your beliefs, and improve your character.”

My eyebrows raise. “Mom did all that?”

“Your mother…” His tongue peeks out between his dry lips as he stares up at the ceiling. “Your mother shattered the bubble I stubbornly placed around myself and forced me to see the world for what it is, for what it could also be.”

His gaze returns to me. “The problem is the men.”

I cock my head to the side.

“I’m not talking about your merry band of brothers, they’re good men. But the fucking rest of them, especially those sodding bastards, O’Malley’s. They’ll think you’re being pulled by a woman’s string. The distrust begins, the rumblings of revolt start, and it's hard to get back.” He is right, the O’Malley’s are as traditionally Catholic as you can get. While they don’t exactly push for women to only be homemakers, they make plenty of comments saying women are to nurture the next generation.

“Yeah, I got it,” I say, tired of the games again. But I understand the delicate power balance it takes to run an organization like ours. I’ve watched my father strike down anyone who opposed him growing up. “How we treat one another in private can be different from public. I know, Da.”

“You think you know until you see the hurt and disappointment in your woman’s eyes and she doesn’t speak to you for a week.” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t get better. It took me too long to realize honesty and openness go further than trying to hide things.”

We stare at each other with mirroring sad smiles. “I miss her.”

He nods. “Me too, son. I can only hope I’ll be with her again soon.”

I swallow, looking away from him and blowing out a breath. “Can’t wait to leave me, huh?”

My father is silent for so long until I finally turn my attention back to him. He’s watching me expectedly. “You don’t need me anymore. You haven’t for a long time, but I hope…even if this is an arranged marriage. I hope you find even a fraction of the happiness and love I found with your mother. Because even that fraction…some never find it.”

I shrug, pushing away the emotions swirling in my chest. “Sometimes men in this life never find it. A burden we’re all aware of.”

“How’s that saying go? Life is what you make it. Happiness can be what you want it to fucking be. Drink lemonade or something.” My father sinks farther back into his pillows, his eyes blinking heavier.

Standing, I pull at the sleeves of my shirt. “I was thinking of having the wedding here, so you can?—”

“No.”

His curt tone makes me frown. “No?”

“This family gets married in the church.”

I roll my eyes. “When’s the last time we went?—”

“I don’t give a flying fuck. O’Callaghans get married in the church. Ya hear me?”

Clenching my teeth, I stretch out my shoulders and give a quick nod. “Yes, sir.”

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