Page 191 of The Thief
Afterward, we lie tangled together, hearts racing, breath slowly returning to normal. His hand rests on my stomach, protective and possessive.
"A baby," he says quietly, like he's still trying to make it real.
"Our baby."
"They'll be safe. I promise you that. Whatever it takes, whoever I have to fight, they'll be safe."
I believe him. I have to believe him, because the alternative is unthinkable.
"Henry would have been so excited," I say, thinking of the conversation I had with a headstone this afternoon.
"Yeah, he would have. He probably would've started planning their education before they were even born."
"He would have spoiled them rotten."
"Completely. He would have driven us crazy with all the toys and expensive clothes and security details."
We talk quietly about the future; names we like, colors for the nursery, whether they'll have my eyes or his stubborn streak. Normal conversations that feel almost surreal given our circumstances.
But this is what Henry wanted for me. This normalcy, this happiness, this chance to build something beautiful despite all the ugliness that brought us together.
As the sun sets outside our window, painting the room in shades of gold and amber, I think about the child growing inside me. About the world they'll inherit—dangerous but beautiful, violent but full of love.
They'll have Freddie's protection and my determination. Holly's fierce loyalty and Denis' steady strength. Jessica's warmth and Stephen's wisdom.
They'll be surrounded by family who would die for them without question.
They'll be a Gallagher-Kinnock, with all the privilege and peril that name carries.
Most importantly, they'll be loved. Completely, unconditionally, forever.
That's enough to build a life on.
More than enough.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
alastríona
Sixteen Months Later
Boston in September is beautiful, all crisp air and turning leaves that catch the afternoon light streaming through the ballroom windows. I'm sitting at a round table with the people I love most in the world, watching strangers celebrate love, and thinking about how far we've all come.
Lorenzo and Quinn's wedding reception is in full swing around us. The bride and groom don't know us well—we're here as allies more than friends—but their happiness is infectious. Quinn looks radiant in her ivory dress, and Lorenzo can't stop staring at her, like he's afraid she might disappear.
It's sweet. Reminds me of how Freddie looked at me on our wedding day.
"Beautiful ceremony," Jessica says, bouncing Patricia on her knee. Our eighteen-month-old goddaughter is all chubby cheeks and bright eyes, completely fascinated by the crystal glasses catching light on the table.
"Very traditional," Lisa agrees, smoothing her burgundy dress. "Though I thought Quinn might faint when she saw how many people were watching."
"Three hundred guests," Clodagh adds, shaking her head. "Can you imagine? I was nervous with thirty."
I laugh, remembering my own wedding to Freddie eight months ago. It was small, intimate, just family and close friends in Dublin. Nothing like this elaborate Boston affair, but perfect for us.
"Where's Dylan?" I ask, noticing Clodagh's lap is empty.
"With his da, terrorizing the dessert table. Emmanuel thinks if he keeps the boy distracted with sweets, he won't notice how many strangers are here."
