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He gives me a single, determined nod.

“The rest of you,” I say to Connor and the other three, “get your coats.” I wait for them to brighten with hope. “You’ll be raking all the yards on this block. I want every single leaf bagged by the end of the day. Rakes are in the back shed. No leaf blowers.”

That ought to teach them. And build us more community goodwill in the process. Not that we O’Sullivans need it, but we support our neighbors in every way that we can.

Brady and Finn file out of the house behind me. Brady’s serious as ever, but Finn’s a little too smug for my liking. I whirl on our younger brother, pointing right in his face.

“You’re in charge of the recruits’ training from now on.”

“The fuck?” Finn says. “I’m the enforcer. Peter’s in ch⁠—”

“Peter’s not handling the situation to my satisfaction.” A disappointment, but a mild one. This is as much about keeping Finn in line as the recruits. “You’re the enforcer, and these are the new foot soldiers. Peter will stay in charge of the house, but you’ll be in charge of the training.”

Finn inhales to broaden his wide chest. He glowers, his jaw clenched, but he nods.

“Good.” I turn back around and lead us down the sidewalk.

As we approach the corner, elderly Mrs. Callahan bustles by, out on her morning powerwalk.

“Oh, Liam!” She stops to face me, stepping in place with her light ankle weights. “Congratulations on your engagement, dear. You and sweet Brioni always did make the cutest couple.” All my frustration evaporates in a heartbeat. Me and my sweet Brioni.

“Thank you, Mrs. Callahan.” I realize I’m grinning like an idiot, but I don’t care.

As she continues on her way, Finn barks out a laugh.

“See?” he says. “Everyone knew there was something going on between you two. And you went through how many years of explaining that you weren’t a couple?”

“Decades,” Brady says. “Half the neighborhood was convinced that you were a couple and were just lying about it.”

“Well, now we are a real couple.” I swallow down my conscience. It’s the first time I’ve experienced anything resembling guilt about our less-than-truthful arrangement.

She’s my best friend, and I don’t fucking deserve her. She’s mine to keep safe, which means not pulling her into my dark world.

Chapter 16

Brioni

“You look stunning,” Cora says as she laces up the back of my dress. “Don’t even try denying it.”

“You’re quite the knockout yourself.” I hold my hair out of the way, my waves pinned in a demi-chignon. Cora cinches my dress without pulling too tight, careful with the delicate laces.

I love this dress. It is a thrifted find from years ago. Despite being secondhand, the designer label made it eye-wateringly expensive, almost too much for me to justify buying it. Because why would I ever need a floor-length chiffon gown in antique white?

Cora’s slinky dress is bright red. I helped her pick it out a couple of weeks ago and encouraged her to wear it tonight, overriding her protests that it’s inappropriate for a non-honoree. It’s a celebration, and she should wear what makes her happy.

Orla, my mother-in-law to-be, meets us at the hotel’s staff entrance. She gives Cora’s outfit the slightest frown but doesn’t voice her disapproval. As she ushers us through to the elevators, all of her comments are compliments to me and instructions for what we’re supposed to do. Cora steps off the elevator at the ballroom’s main level, giving my hand a squeeze and wishing me luck.

“No need to be nervous,” Orla reassures me. “The spotlight’s only for a few seconds, and then it’s a party for everyone.”

I thank her again for all the hard work she’s put into planning this. My gratitude is genuine, even if the reason for the celebration is not.

She leads me to the ballroom’s second floor. Unseen from below, it’s a staging area for the grand balcony. Declan, my father-in-law to-be, hovers by the hors d’oeuvres, snacking on a bacon-wrapped date. His wife swats his hand as he reaches for another.

“Cholesterol,” she reminds him. He sighs, then turns to greet me.

“Liam chose well,” he says with a nod of approval. He pulls his speech notes from his pocket and proffers his arm to his wife. “You ready?”

“Ready.” She squeezes my shoulder and reminds me there’s no reason for nerves. Then she takes her husband’s arm, and they stroll out onto the balcony.