Always and Forever (26 page)

The outside of Sophie and Liam’s house sported brand new siding, but the inside was still torn up. Walls had been knocked down; new ones were being erected. So Brie found the three of them on the
patio, around a circular umbrella table, which was new, sipping lemonade. “Hi, there.”

Greetings all around, then Brie sat. She zeroed in on Rachel. “How are you?”

“As I told you, your situation made me deal better.”

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

Rachel nodded to the carriage off to the side. “I even held Katie before you got here.”

“Wow.”

“But we decided not to talk about pregnancy
for a bit.” This from Sophie, who squeezed Rachel’s hand.

“Good idea. And you know what? I don’t want to talk about the kidnapping, either, if that’s okay.”

Rachel added, “Just tell us if the counselor is helping.”

“Very much so. I’m not going every three days anymore. I feel stronger, healthier.” She nodded to the magazine on the table. “So, what’s that doing here?”

“Liam brought
it home for me. There’s an article about Irish men in there.”

C.J. giggled. “And a sex quiz called, ‘How far do you really want to go?’”

Brie just stared at the magazine.

C.J. slapped her hand on her head. “I’m sorry, Brie. We don’t know what happened to you. If this makes you uncomfortable…”

She raised her chin. “I wasn’t raped. Phillip tried to do some things, right at the end,
but I almost clawed his eyes out.”

“Thank God.” Rachel squeezed her hand. “We were worried.”

“I couldn’t talk about it until today.” She nodded to the magazine. “And some sexy discussion might be just what I need right now.”

The all laughed. Then Sophie got pens and paper from inside and began to read aloud. “What’s one intercourse position that you haven’t tried but would like to?”

In deadpan, C.J. said, “The
staff
gets right to the point, don’t they?”

“Yeah, these are gonna be
hard
,” Sophie added.

Rachel cleared her throat, and there was a mischief on her face. “We might have trouble
getting inside
the material.”

And so the lovely afternoon began.

Pat got home late that night. Sinead and Sean were with Hogan at Dylan’s house, and Kathleen
was spending time with Mikey. Irene would have gone home hours ago. He was looking forward to some alone time with Brie. God, he missed her sexually—yeah—but more so, he missed the closeness that intimacy brought. But he wouldn’t push her. He wasn’t some young kid who couldn’t control his hormones.

After setting the keys in the tray on the kitchen counter, he wandered through the house and
up the stairs. First, he stopped in Isabella’s room, but she wasn’t in the crib. Well, they’d have a baby sleeping with them tonight.

But when he opened the bedroom door, there was no baby inside. Just the strong scent of something so sexy he immediately got hard. Then he heard splashing sounds in the bathroom. He went to the doorway and saw his wife, her head and creamy shoulders the only
visible things above mounds of soapsuds. She had her hair piled up on her head and her eyes closed.

He had to clear his throat. “You look beautiful.”

She opened her eyes when he spoke. And smiled. “This feels so good, I almost can’t stand it.”

“Go ahead and relax, babe.” He needed to leave the bathroom because just the sight of her in that tub made his whole body tighten.

“Pull
the chair over to the tub.”

Shit. Gritting his teeth, he dragged it over. “Wanna talk?”

“For a minute. The counseling session went well. Really well.” A hand snaked out from the suds and grabbed his. “I want to tell you what happened to me in those three days.”

Finally. But his heartbeat sped up. The thought of her at their mercy… “Okay.”

“I wasn’t raped. I wish I could have told
you before, because I know you were worried.” She explained quickly what
had
happened.

Fire burned in his belly and not from desire. “I’d like to beat Carson to a pulp.”

“Anything else you want to know?”

“Do you want to tell me anything else?”

“No, I’d told you most of the other stuff.”

“Good.”

“We need to put that behind us now, Patrick.”

“Whatever you want, lass.”

She grinned. “Whatever I want? Then get that sheet of paper over on the counter.”

That was a non sequitur. Unless… “Did you write me a note about this?”

She shook her head. “Just get the paper and the magazine with it.”

When he retrieved them, she said, “It’s a
Cosmo
quiz the girls and I had some fun with today at Sophie’s.”

“Ah.”

She smiled—mysteriously this time. “I already
took the quiz, so you read the questions aloud and answer them.”

Oh, hell, how was he going to stand this? His jeans were already uncomfortable. They’d read articles, books, seen videos and even taken a few quizzes from
Cosmo
before, but those sessions always ended in some very hot sex.

He glanced down at the magazine, open to the right page. “Number one, ‘What intercourse position have
you always wanted to try?’” He winked at her. “You mean we missed one?”

“You know, I couldn’t answer that, either. So I took out
The Kama Sutra
when I got home. It’s on page thirty-six.” She nodded again the counter.

He grabbed the book that he’d missed. Fumbled with the pages. He tipped the book on its side, then upside down. “Holy shit, Brie. Is this even possible?”

She laughed and
so did he.

“Go on to number two.”

“‘If you had to pick a sex toy to use with your partner, what would it be?’” He glanced over at her. “You mean other than the ones we got?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Handcuffs,” Pat confessed, then ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know where that came from.”

“Mine’s body paints.”

“Didn’t we get some one time?”

“Yeah, but I think we put them
in the church garage sale.”

“What
?”

“Just kidding. They got lost in years of babies and overwork.”

“I should start making a list of what to buy.” He glanced back down. “All right, number three is ‘Where do you want to make love that you never have?’”

“I put on the swing on the front porch. We’d have to practice, though.”

He threw down the pen. “Brie, what is all this leading
up to?”

Her gaze was clear, direct and loving. “I want to make love with you, Patrick.”

Pat bolted up from the chair.

Kicked off his shoes.

And stepped into the tub.

“What are you…? Pat you have your clothes…”

Ignoring her protest, he knelt between her legs and covered her body with his. Suds and water soaked him and sloshed over the side, drenching the floor.

She laughed
and laughed as he kissed her neck, her cheeks, her hair. Gently he rubbed her arms. “I’ve missed you
a ghrá
. A lot.”

“Me, too, love. I missed you, too. Now find a way to get us out of here so we can do this right.”

“Oh, we’ll do it right.” Then he sobered. “We’ll do a lot more right from now on, I promise.”

“I promise, too. I’m glad we have the time.”

“Always and forever,” he whispered
in her ear. “Always and forever.”

Two years later

Keuka Lake glistened in the afternoon sun as the rays kissed the water and the waves gently lapped on the shore. The five O’Neil siblings
sat in an assortment of chairs and chaises and watched their children play in the water or doze in cribs.

In a glider which fit two people, Bailey sat close to her husband and nudged his bare knee with hers. “Happy?” she asked.

“More than I could have imagined.” Clay, tanned and gorgeous as ever, glanced over at the two Secret Service agents several feet away. “Even that isn’t so bad.”

Just then Mitch Calloway got up and crossed to them. “When are you going in the water, Clay? I’m getting hot here.”

“Soon. Lipton doing okay with the kids?”

“Yep, especially now that Tyler can swim. Your nanny’s in charge of them anyway.” Their reliable Anika had retired and Bailey hired a dynamic thirty-year-old named Linda to help out.

Mitch jammed his hands in his pockets and
stared out at the lake.

“Admit it, Calloway. You like being casual with the family.” Clay winked at Bailey. “That and the cute little redhead I’ve seen you with when you’re off duty make this assignment perfect for you.”

Mitch laughed. “I like both.” He took a bead on Clay. “How are you doing with civilian life?”

“I love it. Teaching is challenging and enjoyable, and cookin’ dinner
for my wife when she gets home from a hard day’s work is fun.”

When Clay decided not to seek a second term, Bailey made plans to take over Guardian, the homeless shelter for ex-gang members that they’d fought over what seemed like eons ago. Though Clay taught political science at George Washington University, he often worked with the gang kids who needed a man in their lives—and were impressed
that an ex-president would bother with them. Being around the shelter had helped him feel less worried about her. Even Mitch, who’d decided to get out of the White House rat race, too, and become Clay’s personal agent, had taken an interest in Guardian, as he had to accompany Clay everywhere. Bailey was happy with all of it, and thrilled when his vice president, Lindsay McMann, won the presidential
election and made women’s and children’s issues a priority.

Dripping wet, Patrick approached them with a squirming Isabella in his arms. “I can hardly corral this one.”

“Uncle Clay. Hold me.” Isabella had developed a little-girl crush on the former president.

He held out his hands. “Want me to take her so you can go play volleyball?”

“Nah, we’re done.” He nodded to Irene, who was
making her way down the slope from the house. They were so lucky to still have her in their home. “Anyway, Irene’s comin’ after her to get some juice. She’ll be back.”

After Pat handed off Isabella to Irene, he kissed his sister. “It’s so good to have you around, kiddo.”

“Thanks, Paddy.”

Pat joined his brothers for a beer, closer to the lake. They’d set up a row of chairs so they had
a good view of C.J., Rachel, Brie and Sophie sunning themselves on the dock of the Wainwright property. They were also keeping an eye on the kids. “Man, those women make a sight out there together, don’t they?” Pat commented.

Dylan laughed. “They are beautiful.” Just then Brie stood, all svelte and healthy, and dived into the water. She came up right near Sinead and Laurie, lounging in an
inner tube big enough for two. “You guys nervous about the wedding?”

“No, it’s gonna be simple. I’m glad they waited until graduation.” Pat sighed. “Besides, everything’s easier when you work part-time.”

In a huge move that had affected all their lives, Pat had convinced his brothers and Pa to sell half the pub to Sweeney and his son, Joey. Liam still worked there, although Gale was now
in charge of the kitchen. Jamie Ralston had become a drill sergeant to the wait staff they’d hired. Pat put in three days a week. Aidan and Dylan only worked in emergencies. Since business was still booming because of Bailey and Clay, money wasn’t a problem.

“You don’t get bored?” Dylan asked.

“Nah. Since Brie’s only working a few days a week, too, we have the time to spend together. We’re
volunteering at a local battered women’s shelter and a soup kitchen. I forgot how good that kind of work feels.”

The conversation ended when two whirlwinds raced up to Dylan. One said, “Pa-Pa, Ma-ma says to come in.”

Dylan ran a hand over his son’s dark head. “I will, Fathi. Soon.”

“Now, please,” Nizar begged.

Dylan bit back the emotion welling inside him. He couldn’t help it,
even after two years, he still got choked up over the Syrian twin boys Rachel had brought home after a trip to their native land. The orphanage that she and Bailey sponsored was up and running, but to Dylan, the real gems of the venture were the five-year-olds.

Hogan walked over, holding hands with his new girlfriend, Susie. The boy was sixteen and driving. His mother Stephanie had moved to
France, so he lived with Dylan and Rachel permanently in a big house in Rockaway, near Pat.

Each of the teenagers had picked up a twin. “Time for some dunking, guys,” Hogan threatened.

The kids squirmed. Laughed out loud. And Dylan got teary eyed again.

“Look, the famous writer is a sissy,” Aidan teased from next to him.

Dylan had had good fortune in his career, too. His first
novel about himself and Rachel and the O’Neils had been a bestseller. Because Rachel took a job as assistant editor of NSNBC, he wrote the next two alone, a series of political thrillers that Clay and Mitch helped him plot out.

Liam nudged Aidan. “Look who’s talking. You’re the biggest crybaby in the world.”

“How dare you say that to an award-winning photographer?”

It was true. Aidan’s
career had skyrocketed after he’d won the International Photographer of the Year Award. He had more work than he could handle, but Liam treated him as a baby brother.