Unshackled

Time to go home.

Finn and I drove straight to my place, where we took turns showering and putting on fresh clothes. He changed into something more casual for a night at home with family, and I changed into my burgundy three-piece for a night with Shannon at the Kimmel Center.

My black shoes gleamed more than Nessa’s lip gloss.

Speaking of her, I wasn’t going to forget the case she’d found in the back of my closet. I’d promised she could explore as long as she had Emilia or Finn nearby.

Before I left my bedroom, I checked to make sure I had everything. In the nightstand, I glanced at the burner, and I frowned when I noticed I had a message waiting from Shan.

A heads-up. I have a lot on my plate and won’t be able to meet up for a while.

Hmpf.

In my dream world, he would’ve texted to say he’d met someone and didn’t wanna continue the arrangement.

But whatever.

We were leaving for France in two weeks, and we’d be gone for at least a month.

With the final touches—a nice black evening scarf hanging down my shoulders, stunning onyx cuff links, and one of my favorite watches—and the hard case for Nessa, I met up with Finn in the living room and said I was ready to head downstairs to Luna’s.

Finn got up from the couch with two shot glasses of whiskey and turned around. His eyebrows lifted when he saw me, so I took that as a good sign. “Bloody hell, brother.”

“I know, it should be illegal to be this smokin’ hot,” I agreed. “One of those for me?”

“Aye.” He extended a glass and wrinkled his forehead. “Isn’t that outfit kinda wasted on an evening with my pop?”

God, I hope not.

“If you started going on actual dates, you might even find someone to bring home for holidays,” he said.

I chuckled and threw back the shot. It was much-needed, to be honest. Tonight was far from a date; it was a present to the man whose forty-seventh birthday we’d celebrated at Finn and Emilia’s last night. But if Irish luck was on my side, one day, Shan and I might look back on tonight and go, “Yeah, that was when things started to change.”

Finn and I took the elevator down to Luna’s floor, and I wasn’t surprised she was waiting for us. The door to her place was wide open. She was spending the weekend with Emilia, Autumn, and Nessa, and I knew lounging by the pool was at the top of the list.

“I can’t believe you volunteered to babysit both Ryan and CJ all day tomorrow,” I said.

Finn side-eyed me with a brow cocked. “I’m not babysitting my own son, you gobshite. It’s called parenting, and I actually enjoy being a dad.”

Well, excuse me so fucking much.

“Adding CJ to the mix is gonna show Emilia I’m ready for a new baby,” he added with a smile. “And it’s not like we’re going anywhere. We’ll all be at the house.”

Better him than me. I was still biding my time. Once the boys were four or maybe five and could produce words and not just saliva with their mouths, I’d show everyone who the best uncle was.

I knocked on the open door and poked my head into Luna’s apartment. “You ready to go, sis?”

“Just a second!” she hollered from the bedroom. “Come on, baby boy. It’s time to go see Uncle Kelly and Uncle Finn.”

Kelly? I didn’t fucking think so.

“Kelly?” Finn mouthed, way too amused.

“That ain’t happening,” I said.

Seeing the two bags in the entryway, I assumed it was luggage, so I grabbed them as my sister emerged with CJ in her arms. They definitely looked ready for a weekend by the pool. Sundress, sun hat, big shades, and flip-flops for Luna, tee and shorts for my nephew.

The sun was gonna go down on the way out to Villanova, but whatever.

“Hey! Wow, you look good, big brother.” She smiled brightly. “Nessa asked me to remind you to bring some makeup case…?”

“Got it.” I held up the case.

Nessa had earned it. I’d managed to drag out the answers for months, and she’d been adorably pissy when she’d finally learned that I used my “costumes” and makeup for when I had to become other people.

“Oh, for the drag-queen gig.” Finn nodded.

“Fuck you, baby face,” I told him.

That always made him scowl. It was a favorite memory of mine, back from when I was his driver shortly before he married Emilia. He’d said he had to shave before the wedding, to which she’d expressed some concerns about the risk of him having a baby face underneath the beard.

I’d laughed so goddamn hard. He’d been so offended.

On the way down to the garage, I asked Luna to make sure Nessa didn’t use any products for her teenager symptoms, like zits and other blemishes. It would only make things worse. The products I bought were for professional shit; they covered scars, tattoos, and could completely change someone’s skin tone. In other words, it left no breathing room for the skin whatsoever.