I wander over to introduce myself, sensing a fellow outsider. “Hi. I’m Simone.”
She stares with blue eyes that are wide and wary. “I know who you are.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your husband.”
“Well…” she replies with a shaky, sardonic laugh. “There’s not much to be done about it now, is there?”
I’m not sure what else to say as the wives go on chitchatting. Thankfully, Ronan keeps me company. We find seats at a patio table and he foregoes returning to the rest of the men inside.
A relatively small gesture of solidarity, but one that sticks in my head anyway. I shoot him an appreciative smile and mouth, “Thank you.”
The afternoon is fading by the time we finally sit down to the huge feast spearheaded by Oona.
The dining table stretches almost the length of the room, covered in a cream linen tablecloth. The food is endless—golden roast turkey, glazed ham studded with cloves, mac and cheese bubbling and cheesy, seasoned green beans, cranberry sauce, and so much more.
There’re even some uniquely Irish additions like soda bread and colcannon with cabbage and cream.
The Callahans don’t hold back. As soon as the food is served, everybody digs in—man, woman, and child alike. Even the frail-looking Cara loads her plate and eats with surprising appetite.
Seamus sits at the head of the table, claiming both turkey legs for himself. He tears into them like a barbarian, grease dripping down his chin, making no effort to be neat about it.
The conversation around the table is loud and chaotic. Eddie and Killian are butting heads over the football game earlier, arguing about the final score.
“The Giants crushed it,” Eddie says, grinning. “I’ll have to tell my dad about how well they did.”
Cara makes a small, warbling cry at the mention of her husband. Her hand flies to her mouth, her eyes filling with tears.
Seamus slams his hand on the table, making everyone jump. “Grow some skin, Cara. You’re way too bloody sensitive.”
She flinches, shrinking into herself.
Seamus’s gaze sweeps over everyone at the table, cold and commanding. “We’ve got to be strong. We’ve got to show how resilient we are. Not just the men. But our women too. We can’t have any weak links. Weak links will be sniffed out and removed… permanently.”
His gaze lands on me as he speaks, staying on me longer than anyone else.
My stomach tightens. I shift uncomfortably, diverting my gaze to my plate.
“Lochlan's doing time to prove his devotion,” he continues with his impromptu speech. “The least you all can do is remain strong for him.”
I can feel the weight of his words. The accusation weaved into them.
I’m convinced now.
Seamus Callahan doesn’t like me. He doesn’t like me at all. Not even a little bit.
Which begs the question, why the hell did he strike the deal with Dad to marry me to his son? Is there some other ulterior motive at play?
Ronan’s hand finds my thigh under the table, squeezing firmly. I glance up, meeting his eyes. He winks at me, his husky voice low enough that only I can hear.
“Don’t worry, princess. Ignore him.”
I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
Maybe my husband and I are growing closer than I ever thought we would. We’re gradually bonding like I never anticipated we would.
But a part of me still demands I fight it. The Langston inside me has allegiance to my family only.
Myrealfamily. Not the one I’ve been forced into.