Page 22 of An Angel’s Share (The Greystone Family: Greystone Brothers #1)

Jonno

That’s it, it’s official, my sanity has gone.

My family has always known I love crazy.

The more insane the better. But curiously I don’t feel out of control.

I feel in full control of my faculties. My decision making on-point.

My reasons are valid. The woman called to me in California.

In a haze of glorious passion, we created a baby together.

Fate stepped in and took its course. Well I’m down with fate.

I’m down to run wherever it takes me. Because this, her, my son—fucking amazing in my book. So bring it the fuck on.

She leans on me as I lead her out of the old stable block and we meander our way back towards the house. It’s early evening, the heat of the day abating a little, and the sun has gone beyond the front of the house, casting it into shade and shadow.

It’s a beautiful sandstone building, the colour of the stone holding the light and warmth.

The frontage is grand and imposing, built to impress anyone who walks or drives up to it.

A huge sweeping drive and a turning circle separates the lawns from the house.

And they’ve maintained the huge portico, which would have held at least three carriages in older times, allowing guests to alight undercover.

Oversized oak doors with inlays of lighter wood welcome you into the house.

But they’re also there to confer the grandeur you will experience on the inside.

Even today, the splendour makes you gasp.

The windows all around the house are unusually large, floor to ceiling even in the bedrooms two storeys above.

It’s an amazing place. But it’s also a working home, and it feels very lived in.

Well-used and comfortable. Not starchy, not a show house, nor a museum to the past. It lives and breathes, continuing to embrace its incumbents.

We pass the front and walk around the side of the house facing the fields.

Strategically placed trees draw the eye toward the horizon with the Wicklow Hills in the background.

The floor to ceiling windows reflect the sunlight.

Whichever O’Clery built the place clearly loved light rooms, and amazing views.

It’s five stories high, with old servant quarters in the roof and attic areas.

A separate wing was added a few years later, but as yet no one lives in it, the family shrinking in size over the past generations.

Patrick told me he wanted to move his senior managers in here. Thankfully, Seamus vetoed it. Family only ever in the house. I wonder whether Aoife will want to use it. Bring that wing back to life.

We walk closely together. I want to touch her, but it would be too dangerous. She wants to keep up the charade at least for a few more days, and I have to respect that. I don’t want to make this meeting harder than I think it’s going to be already .

Turning the corner, we head towards the back of the house. A terrace showcases plants and the gardens beyond. Formal gardens draw your eye, taking you out towards the distillery in the background. You can just see it peeking through the trees almost a mile away.

Marshall, Seamus, and Dermot, are all sat drinking whiskey, and as our footsteps sound on the flagstones, all their heads swivel towards our approaching voices.

Seamus blushes like an underage schoolboy and tries to hide his drink under the table.

The look of relief on his face when he realises it’s not Mae is comical.

He grins mischievously at us both and puts his small glass back on the table.

“Purely for medicinal purposes, Daddy?” Aoife grins at him, her face lighting up at his look of guilt.

“Well, you’re a doctor. I tell everyone it’s what the doctor ordered.” His smile gets wider, and he blows a kiss at his daughter and she comes to stand beside him.

“I’m not that sort of doctor and you know it.” She laughs at him, picking up the glass and sniffing it. “Our new range,” she states, drawing in a large breath and taking in the aromas of the whiskey. “Glorious.”

Marshall grins and points around at them all.

“Taste testers.” He’s addressing her, but regarding me, his keen blue-grey eyes missing nothing.

He knows we’ve been together, he knows the tell-tale signs, notices my slightly dishevelled looks.

But he looks away and shakes his head a little.

It’s a good job he’s laid back. Although living with my sister and her two husbands and a load of kids, he would have to be.

“We’ve been at the old stable block,” Aoife tells her father.

“Jonno had some ideas about renovating it. He was thinking more along the lines of a corporate space, with maybe accommodations above. People could stay over then without bothering us in the house. Corporate away days, do a distillery tour, eat, play golf at Killclery golf course.” She lists things her brain has just manifested.

I’m impressed, her brain clearly thinking along the same lines as mine.

“Marshall, do you think Evie would come and take a look for us? Jonno says she’s amazing at ideas for old buildings.

” She turns her bright-eyed stare onto Marshall.

Before anyone can get a word out of any sort, Liam and Patrick strut out on the terrace in full business suits.

“Oh please, stop with the renovating ideas, Aoife.” Liam dismisses her in front of everyone, wafting his hand away just in case we misunderstood his rude words.

“Patrick and I already have ideas in the works regarding the golf club. Were you not saying we have no money?” He looks around at us all, pure condescension on his smug face. “How are you going to pay for it all?”

His arrogant stance and belittling tone make my blood boil. I’m bristling. Marshall imperceptibly shakes his head at me, begging me with his eyes not to start an argument with the prize dickhead.

Aoife’s face changes from pink with excitement to bright red with embarrassment. Her dad’s face goes white with anger. I open my mouth to put this arrogant prick in his place, but feel Aoife’s hand touch my arm, a gentle reminder she can fight her own battles. And I’m all for that.

Her tone matches Liam's condescension and raises it. “Liam, that’s so rude and uncalled for. I’m open to any ideas on how to generate income.

If,” she pauses, “it is cost effective.” She emphasises that point, and I make no attempt to school my grin.

“Don’t insult our intelligence by intimating that you and Patrick have the monopoly on brilliant ideas.

Because, to be fair, if the accounts are anything to go by, that is as far from the truth as it gets. ”

Patrick swells like a bullfrog. “My ideas are only for the betterment of this company. I refute your insinuation. Nothing has been wasted. We are in profit.”

Aoife rolls her eyes. Is this man so deluded he really does not get it. Aoife volleys back with gusto. “Patrick, I refute your insinuation that we’re in profit. We’ll not end the year like that if we’re not careful,” she cautions.

Seamus makes a strangled noise in his throat, and all our heads turn.

Aoife rushes over to him. “I’m sorry, Daddy.

I didn’t mean to upset you. Patrick, can we please keep this sort of chat to the boardroom.

” Aoife looks beseechingly up at her cousin as she squats next to her dad.

“I don’t want to fight with you, cousin. ”

Patrick deflates like a hot air balloon, and with Aoife pleading and his own father glaring at him, he backs down. “I’m sorry everyone. Please, let me get us some drinks.” He turns and goes back into the house, his shoulders slumped, leaving Liam on his own, ally-less.

Everyone ignoring him, Liam looks fucking furious.

Leaving his useless ass to sulk, I move a chair next to Seamus and gently manoeuvre Aoife into it.

Dragging an umbrella from next to the wall, I put it up so it shades both her and her dad.

Marshall and Seamus watch me, although they’re trying not to make it obvious.

I see Marshall's smug little smirk, and catch Seamus’s eye.

“Aoife, do you need to eat?” I ask her softly. “We were out for a long time.”

Liam, who has plonked himself down next to Dermot, makes a noise in his throat, almost a laugh.

I outwardly ignore him, but I let my face show that I heard him and he is on thin ice.

Seamus swings his head towards his soon-to-be-dislodged, never-to-be son-in-law.

The glare is obvious and intentional. Liam at least has the sense not to say anything more.

“That would be lovely, Jonno.” I think I see the brimming of tears. “Thank you. Could I have something sweet? Daddy, do you want a piece of cake?” She’s patting his hand and they’re looking adoringly at each other.

“He can’t have cake or anything sweet.” Joy of joys, Mae has joined the party.

Liam looks smug. He’s really going for it, and has clearly made a decision whose side he’s on. And it isn’t Aoife’s. Aoife makes no reaction to her mother’s arrival, pointedly waiting for her dad to answer.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having, Rua. Surprise me.”

Aoife’s smile could light up Dublin. I move to offer her my arm and manoeuvre her chair so she can stand.

“Come pick,” I tell her, grinning at both her and Seamus.

I then turn my charm offensive on Mae. “Don’t worry, Mae.

I’ll make it as healthy as I can.” I wink and bat my eyelashes at her before she can start issuing orders.

She giggles at me and pushes me playfully. Aoife rolls her eyes at that.

As we go through the large open patio doors, Aoife prods me.

“Stop flirting with my mammy. She’s bad enough as it is without you inflating her ego.

” She rolls her eyes and tosses her head towards the still giggling Mae.

“We’ll never hear the last of it. I’m sick enough of hearing Maggie waxing lyrically about Marshall. ”