“Don’t forget Alaska.”

“Ma, Alaska is part of North America.”

“Whatever.”

When Meg’s eyes crossed, her mother laughed and took Meg’s hand in her own. Cella’s were covered in scars, old and new, some from hockey, some from her work as a “contractor,” and some from just being the East Coast Bare Knuckle Champion five years running.

“I want you to have the best birthday you can possibly have with your personality—”

“Thanks.”

“—and if that means putting up with that vicious old woman and her annoying machinations, I’ll do it. Because I love you and I want you to be fucking happy.”

“Uh ...”

“Now let’s go into this pharmacy and get you some goddamn tampons. My treat!”

Meg watched her mother get out of the SUV, slamming the door behind her.

“I’m so never bored with this family,” she sighed, pushing the door open and following her mother into the store.

CHAPTER NINE

After a few more hours of sleep and a hearty birthday breakfast with Meg that Meg cooked, Cella was on her fifth lap of her Sunday-afternoon run around the neighborhood when she finally admitted that something was definitely going on, and it had nothing to do with the preparations for Meg’s birthday party that evening. Cella noticed it when every time she passed one of her relatives’ house or RV, someone greeted her, asked her how she was doing, whether she wanted some coffee, or if she needed a chat. Malones didn’t chat. They gossiped, but that’s what they called it. Gossip.

Instead of asking one of her uncles, great-aunts, or cousins what the fuck was going on, though, she ran back to her parents’ house. But she knew that was a mistake as soon as she walked into the kitchen. Again, her father, brothers, and aunts were all clustered around the table, but now her mother, lips in a tight, unhappy line, was involved. All of them whispering to each other, and it looked like arguing.

“Oh!” her Aunt Maureen said, way too brightly. “Look who’s back!”

Panting, sweat dripping onto the floor, Cella stared at her family. They stared back and then smiled. All of them smiled. At her. Even her Aunt Deirdre.

That’s when Cella went up to her room and a much-needed shower.

She was just stepping out, reaching for a towel when she heard the knock at the door.

“Yeah?” she said, cautious. But when Jai peeked around the open door, Cella let out a breath. “Thank God it’s you.”

“What’s wrong?”

Cella motioned for Jai to close the door. “I think they’re plotting my death.”

Jai laughed, then stopped. “Oh. You’re not kidding.”

“They’re acting weird. They’re up to something. Malones just don’t smile at ya... unless it involves a con or a two-by-four to the back of the head.”

“Yeah.” Jai nibbled her bottom lip. “Or they care about you and your happiness?”

“They’re Malones. They don’t give a shit about my happiness.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. They seem to love you more than you realize.”

Cella’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you saying that? What’s going on?”

“It’s about the upcoming family wedding.”

“Whose wedding? Shannon’s? Sinead’s? Annie’s? Emma’s? Ella’s?

“No.”

“Johnny’s? Jackie’s? Conor’s? Jamie’s?”

“My God, please stop. I’m talking about Bri’s wedding.”

“Bri’s not family.”

“Just your daughter’s father.”

“That don’t make him family. Just makes him a breeder.”

Jai smiled. “I love hanging around you. You guys never fail to entertain me.”

“Spit it out, Davis. What’s going on?”

“There’s concern. About the effect Bri and Rivka’s wedding is having on you.”

“Me? What about me?” The wedding had been in the planning stages for what felt like an eternity, and although Meghan might have some concerns about the event, why would the family care one way or the other? And, especially, why would they suddenly be worried about Cella?

“The family’s concerned that you’re devastated about all this. The engagement. The wedding.”

Cella blinked. “No, I’m not.”

“That you’re hiding your pain behind a façade.”

“A façade of what?”

“General good humor and bravado.”

“I always have good humor. And I am full of bravado.”

“That’s very true.”

“Besides. How upset can I be? I’m the maid of honor.”

“Uh-huh.”

“My mother is the wedding planner for the wedding here and I asked her to do it. They have another planner for the ceremony in Israel, which Meghan is invited to.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And the only reason the rest of the Malones aren’t invited is because of, well ... ya know ... the thing.”

“Right. The thing.”

“Which was not my fault but my cousin’s and he’s returned almost all the artwork, including the Monet, to Israel.”

“I’m well aware.”

“And not only that, but when Bri told me he was marrying Rivka, I said, ‘Yeah. Great. And you may want to send your support check before you leave on your honeymoon.’ ”