Carson: A Dark Irish Mafia Romance (Dangerous Doms) by Jane Henry

Author:Jane Henry [Henry, Jane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-07-16T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Carson

“Well, it is somewhat narcissistic, isn’t it?” Megan says. Breena plays with her dolls happily on the carpeted floor. She’s got a streak of chocolate ice cream on her dress, and her hair’s a mess. She looks every bit the little girl who’s had an excellent day.

“What exactly is narcissistic?”

I’m relaxing on a chaise, my trainers kicked off, watching the news on the iPad, while Breena sings to herself and plays happily. Christ, but it feels good to be having an adult conversation.

Megan’s bloody brilliant. She’s resting beside me, her feet propped up. After a day by the harbor, she made us dinner, even though I offered to order takeaway. It was a simple meal with pasta and chicken, salad and wine, but it was delicious. We cleaned the kitchen up together,

“The whole government hierarchy,” she says. “Kings and queens, presidents and prime ministers. I don’t believe in total anarchy, of course, but honestly, I wonder if the hierarchical structure is the right way to govern.”

I can’t help but take this in, and I go off on a tangent about nepotism and fairness, and the wisdom inherent in the American political systems of checks and balances and how it differs from the British.

She listens and nods and offers her own opinion, but finally shakes her head with a little laugh. “You know, I could sit at your feet and just listen to you speak, all day long. You’ve got a grasp for words and the English language unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”

Breena looks up, oblivious to how we’re solving the problems of the world.

“Play, daddy,” she says, holding up the little doll in her hand. I take the two she offers, and hold them up, speaking in a high falsetto voice, bobbing the head of one doll, while the other speaks in a theatrically deeper one.

Megan grins. “I think you’re losing your touch, sir,” she says with a teasing smile. “How can I take you seriously when you’re playing with dollies?”

I lean my mouth to her ear and whisper, “Oh, I think we can remedy you taking me seriously later, love.” I watch the way her cheeks flush and her breaths come in shorter gasps. Breena’s back is to me, as she’s intent with her dolls, so I take a discreet moment to weave my fingers through Megan’s wild mass of waves and give her a firm tug. She gasps. “Won’t we?”

Her response is somewhere between a squeak and a moan.

We get Breena ready for bed and dress her in her jammies. She snuggles between us on the couch. She’s dragged a fistful of picture books with her, and holds them up, her eyes wide with expectation.

“Story?” she asks.

“Oh, aye, I love this,” Megan says, holding up Wee Gaelic Fairy Tales for Wee Folk. She flips through and laughs out loud. “Fancy that? Children’s version of Conall Yellowclaw and The Story of Deirdre.”

I smile to myself. “Fancy that.”

I take the book, open it up, and begin to read. Breena laughs and giggles, snuggling closer into me and Megan as I read.

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