Pagan (The Henchmen MC 8)

"His choice," I said, shrugging.

"And not yours," he agreed, giving me a look that seemed to have a lot of respect in it. "A man should know his own mind and follow it," he offered, reading me. "So, this Kennedy woman," he said, moving to sit behind his desk, gesturing toward the Captain's chairs for me to sit, so I did.

"Needed a leg-up in life," I said with a shrug.

"So you gave her a building," he said, nodding. "When did you realize you loved her?"

Surprised by even the turn of phrase in reference to something involving me, I straightened in my chair, brows moving together, looking at him, I was sure, like he had sprouted another head.

"Just now, it seems," he said with a smile full of knowledge.

"We just started dating a few weeks ago," I hedged. Hell, we hadn't even really agreed that we were officially dating, though I felt it was painfully obvious that we were.

"And?"

"And it's a little soon to use that word."

"Is it? I used that word on my first date with my love."

Alright, I only had so much bullshit tolerance. Well, none, if I were being honest. There was no fucking way that man told my grandmother he loved her on their first date. In fact, I was sure I never heard him utter those words.

"Not your grandmother," he said, again able to somehow read me. "Your grandmother I married when I was twenty-six, two years after Rosemary died in a car wreck. She was the love of my life, you see. I knew it the moment I met her. I read somewhere once that a soulmate is the stranger that you recognize. I recognized her when I laid eyes on her. It was as simple, and disorienting, as that. Though, in my day, men weren't quite as terrified of love as you men today are."

Well, fucking knock me upside the head.

Who'd have thought there was some long-buried love secret in his life? It was certainly not something anyone else ever said.

"We married on our fourth date," he added. "I had taken my car and sold it for ring money since my own parents didn't approve the match. Two years was an eternity, yet nowhere near enough time. When she passed, I was welcomed back into the family with open arms, them all figuring I had gotten my rebellious urges out of me. And, I guess, they were right. When they presented your grandmother to me, an acceptable choice for marriage, I had done what was expected of me and married her."

Shit.

All the skeletons were getting dragged out and dusted off.

"What happened to my mother?" I asked, feeling that if he was in a forthcoming mood, I was going to use it to my advantage.

"She lives in Florida with a thriving career and with her... third husband. No other children. She wasn't the maternal type to begin with. Cats make better mothers."

"She was paid to leave."

"More or less. She was unhappy. She took that unhappiness out on the family name by sleeping around openly and often. Your grandmother put an end to it, our name being so important to her. If you think there was love lost there, son, she didn't even try to fight for you. Not trying to hurt you here, just giving you the facts."

"I appreciate that. Fuck her. I turned out alright thanks to all the disinterest in those around me."

"I've kept tabs on you," he said, shrugging it off like it was totally normal. "You seem... happy with your life."

"I am," I said, nodding. I was. It wasn't lavish like my childhood had been, but I made good money. I did so by doing things I found enjoyable, even if that didn't make sense to others.

"That's all that matters, son. Trust me," he said with a tired smile. "All this is nice. It makes life... easier. But it isn't happiness. I'm glad you found yours." He reached downward, a slide indicating he had opened a drawer. Then he lifted his hand, reaching across the desk to hand me something.

I put my hand out instinctively, feeling a small, round, metal object fall there.

"What's this?" I asked, even as my eyes registered what I was seeing. An engagement ring.

"That is a symbol of real love, son. I think you have found it, so I want you to have it. I know," he said, holding up a hand when my mouth opened, "that you men these days need to pretend this decision takes months or years. Though I think we both know that is bull. It takes a second, a single second to know, to see that the choice was made. But keep it for when you get your head out of your ass and give it to your Kennedy woman."

I, for maybe the first time in my fucking life, was utterly at a lack of words.