Page 32 of Daring Destiny
“Shit, they’ll be thrilled. My ma will act like she’s known you forever and ask when we’re getting married.” I pat her hand. “Ready to meet your future mother-in-law?”
Instead of being in on the joke, Astrid freezes, pastes a smile on her face and breathes in deeply. I watch her, fascinated, as she transforms into the public version of herself. Poised look, check. Warm, engaging eyes, check. Shoulders back, spine straight, check. Her movements seem to be subconscious. I doubt she realizes what her own pre-game routine is.
A fleeting thought crosses my mind, though. It’s possible my family isn’t going to meet the version of Astrid I’ve gotten to know. I hope she relaxes and allows herself to be loose. Vulnerable.Authentic.
Well, even if they get the polished version clients see, they’ll love her. She’s flawless. Engaging. Polite.
The way I see it, any version of Astrid is perfection and, considering I’m throwing her into a strange situation, whatever makes her feel comfortable is fine by me.
Hand in hand, we climb up to the front porch. Before I have a chance to knock, the door swings open and Ma stands in the doorway. She doesn’t visibly act surprised when she sees I’ve brought a woman home, but her eyes dart back and forth from me to Astrid. “Brennan! And who’s this?”
“Astrid Gustafsson...” Before I can finish, Ma pulls her into a warm hug.
A couple of seconds later, Astrid drops my hand and wraps her arms around my mom’s shoulders. Almost like she craves the affection. They stay like this for longer than what I consider normal, which I guess is a good thing. Finally, they break apart.
Ma beams. “Well, aren’t you such a darling girl. Welcome. Come in, love, come in. I’ll set another place at the table.”
“Thank you, Mrs. McGloughlin.” She looks at me and shrugs as we follow Ma into the house, her face flushed with embarrassment. “She gives a wonderful hug.”
“Everybody says so,” I reassure her, though I can’t recall anyone ever saying those words. I want her to feel at home and if hugging my ma enhances her experience, I’m all for it.
Inside, the entire place smells like garlicky herbaceous goodness. Astrid takes it all in. The warmth of the living room. Family photos lining the walls. Candles flickering on the dining table. It’s the definition of coziness, though our family life wasn’t always this way.
“Rory!” Ma calls up the stairs. “Brennan’s here. He brought a guest. Have you heard from Cillian?”
My hackles go up. Shit. Is Cillian going to be a no-showagain?
Da trots down the stairs, the only sign of his longstanding health issues these days is a slight limp. Years of sobriety have softened him, but our relationship is still a bit strained. I have a lot of respect for him—he’s managed to rebuild himself after nearly destroying our family.
On the other hand, I’m still bitter he was a shitty father-figure for most of my formative life. Cillian, Seamus, and I were still boys when he got into the accident. Throughout our teenage years into our twenties, Da was a drunken asshole with fleeting bouts of sobriety here and there.
Cillian, at least, shared an interest in construction with him, eventually taking over our family’s business. Seamus and I, on the other hand, are academics. We never developed the same strong bond with Da. He didn’t relate to either of us and we both were forced to carve our own path.
“Hello.” He nods at me before focusing on Astrid. “Who is this lovely lass?”
Astrid takes his rough hand between hers. “It’s lovely to meet you, Mr. McGloughlin. I’m Astrid. Your accent is so thick, I love it.”
“Ahh, it’s Rory, lass. You see, I never wanted to lose it. As they say, no woman is safe from a charmin’ Irishman.” Da winks at her. Holy shit, he’s flirting. I haven’t seen this side of him.Ever. “My boy didn’t tell us he had taken up with a beautiful lady friend.” He raises an eyebrow at me. “Mr. Secretive.”
“Da,” I mutter, slightly annoyed.
“Oh, we’re new.” Astrid reaches for my hand. “We were friends until…recently.”
“Where’s Cillian?” I abruptly change the subject back to something a little less intimate as we head into the dining room. “When’s he supposed to be here?”
Seamus, looking buff as hell, is setting the table. My quiet, thoughtful wee brother lifts his head to hear the answer.
“Oh, aye.” Da looks down at the floor dejectedly. “He sent me a text, so he did. Something’s come up. Astrid can take his place at the table.”
Seamus peers at Astrid with a slight smirk.
“Astrid, this is my wee brother, Seamus.” I nod toward him. “He’s the surgeon.”
“Nice to meet you.” My brother holds up his hand.
“Likewise.” Astrid winks.
Ma bursts through the door with a platter of roast pork surrounded by potatoes and vegetables. Classic, simple, and perfect. Dinner kicks off quietly as we fill our plates but, soon enough, the topic of Cillian is dropped and Astrid becomes the main focus.