Page 6 of Duncan (Irish Mob of Boston #1)

Freyja

“Freyja, what about this one?”

My mother’s voice was a whisper as I stood in front of the rack of clothing, staring out the window at the street. It had been weeks since I fell into the man on the street. I never asked his name. It wouldn’t matter. My one was waiting for me in New Orleans. But I couldn’t forget him all the same.

I took a walk every day, hoping I might see him again. I wasn’t sure what it was about him that drew me in. Sure, he was handsome. Many men were, but there was something about his posture. The way he carried himself.

He didn’t hesitate to catch me when I fell. But he didn’t try to grope me either. He was a perfect gentleman.

“Freyja?”

Startled out of my musings, I turned toward my mother. “What?”

She chuckled and shook her head. “You know there are ways of tracking him down.”

“I know nothing about him. I was in his presence for thirty seconds. And besides, Lucille was clear that the man the universe has chosen for me will be at Mardi Gras.”

“Maybe Lucille was wrong.”

I stared at my mother. My mouth hanging open. She had never in my life questioned Lucille.

“All I’m saying is sometimes we have to say ‘fuck you’ to the universe and do our own thing.”

My mother, Stephanie Malpas, was encouraging me to ignore Lucille and take matters into my own hands. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. She had always supported us in everything we did.

Well, except for when my brother joined the service. She made her position on that very clear. But she also made sure he never doubted how much she loved him, despite his choices.

“Lucille has never steered me wrong,” I rebutted.

“That’s true. At least not yet,” she said absently as she dug through the racks.

“It’s only January. Mardi Gras isn’t until the beginning of March. I can be patient. I don’t need to chase after some nameless man on the street.”

My mother lifted an immaculately sculpted brow in my direction. Ignoring her skepticism, I continued, “He probably doesn’t even live in the city. Millions of people visit here every day.”

“There is no reason you can’t have a little fun between now and Mardi Gras,” my mother so cheerfully pointed out.

Stevie Malpas was a huge proponent of sexual enlightenment. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t a virgin, nor was I a prude. But there was just something about knowing I was only weeks away from finding my soulmate that had me living a celibate life.

Well, celibate when it came to other people. I mean a girl had needs and if my needs were being met by myself, well that wasn’t cheating.

“Freyja!”

Oh God. Not her. Not now.

My mother and I both stiffened at the sound of the nasally voice calling out my name. Looking at each other, my mother whispered, “Do you think she saw us?”

“Mother,” I deadpanned.

“Freyja, I am so glad I ran into you! I have the most amazing news.”

“Hi, Willa.”

Willamina Stuckers, formerly Dickers, and I met in college. Our families only semi ran in the same social circles. She got married right after graduation and never let me forget it.

At thirty-two, single with no children, Willa considered me an old maid. What she didn’t realize was that her husband Justin Stuckers only asked her out after he got tired of me turning him down.

Justin inherited his family’s fortune once he and Willa produced a male heir. It took them six tries. She seemed happy enough, though.

“Justin got a promotion!”

She was so excited; I didn’t have the heart to tell her that after ten years of working for his father’s company, he should be running it by now. But Justin was a slacker. He never put much effort into anything.

Except for creating an heir.

“That’s great, Willa.”

“No, you don’t understand. Now that he is in charge, I can make sure you are invited to all the galas we attend.”

My brow creased, not understanding why she would want me there. We weren’t that close. We hadn’t even been that close in college.

“I can help you find a husband. Before it’s too late.”

“Before it’s too late for what?” my mother asked. I had forgotten she was there, and I groaned internally. I knew where Willa was going, and Stevie Malpas would not take kindly to someone insinuating her daughter lived a subpar life simply because she wasn’t married and popping out babies.

My mother had nothing against women who wanted a life like that. Heck, she popped out four children herself and homeschooled us. She was all for women doing whatever made their heart happy.

“Before it’s too late for her to have children. She is in her thirties, after all. There isn’t much time left,” Willa explained.

I took a step back as to not get in my mother’s way.

If there was one thing she loved, it was putting people in their place.

It was a bit ironic that giving her own opinion about someone’s opinion was something my mother excelled at.

But as she’d drilled into us, it was never wrong to defend someone’s right to choose.

Whether we agreed with it or not.

“Willamina Stuckers, you do know women can have children into their fifties, right? Women produce an egg every month up until their body decides they are done. Who are we to tell a woman when the best year to conceive a child is?”

Willa’s mouth dropped open. She took a step back at my mother’s directness.

But Stevie Malpas didn’t let you off that easily.

She took a step forward, recreating the same distance between herself and the woman who dared to suggest that her daughter was doing anything other than exactly what she should be doing with her life.

Which was whatever made me happy.

“Well, it’s much harder late—”

“You know what every woman is capable of at every age in her life? Some women are not emotionally mature enough to care for another human being until they are well into their forties. While others believe they have to have as many children as they can right away, so their husbands don’t look for someone else. ”

OUCH!

“It’s not for anyone to determine what is right or wrong, except the person who is living that life. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“You’re right, Mrs. Malpas.” Willa swallowed, no doubt in fear, then looked down at the gold watch that adorned her left hand. “Oh, would you look at that? I have to pick up JJ from daycare.”

Willa turned and hurried toward the front door of the store. Before leaving, she called back, “I’ll send you the invite to the next gala, Freyja!”

“That girl isn’t very bright.”

“Researchers say that a woman loses a third of her brain cells with every pregnancy. I would imagine after six children in ten years, she doesn’t have many left.”

“Freyja!”

I laughed at the fake indignation in my mother’s voice, which in turn had her laughing along with me.

“Come on, let’s pay for these things and go home.”

We made our way through the store quickly, paying for our purchases and having them sent to the house to avoid lugging them through the crowded streets of New York City.

Despite my insistence to myself that I could be patient until Mardi Gras, I still looked at the face of every man in a suit that passed by me. Hoping I might catch a glimpse of the handsome man I met briefly.

Mardi Gras was getting closer, and I was getting anxious. I attributed my anxiety to reaching utopia. It had always seemed to be an unattainable goal. But now, it was on the horizon.

When Lucille told me I had to wait until Dimeter was married before I could myself get married, I was so disheartened. I thought for sure I would be waiting forever.

I mean, it would take a very special woman to put up with my little brother. And well, Henley was very special. That woman had to be a saint. The only other woman I knew who could put up with him was Bailey. And the two of them couldn’t be more different.

Lost in my musings, I stumbled from being knocked into. Looking up, I opened my mouth to reprimand the large man. Instead, he glared at me over his shoulder and sneered, “Stay out of the way, bitch,” then took off down the street.

Two men rushed past me, while a third stopped to help me up. My breath caught when I looked up into familiar green eyes. He helped me to my feet, and I stood there staring at the most handsome face I had ever seen.

I wondered for a brief moment if it were possible the man the universe had chosen for me could be better looking than the man standing in front of me?

Dimeter would lose his shit if I married someone prettier than him. My little brother firmly believed he was the prettiest man on the planet.

“It’s you.”

Lucille didn’t tell me I would see him again. Maybe this was a gift, something to tide me over until Mardi Gras. My mother would tell me to jump on the chance, literally. She would say two chance meetings had to mean something.

I think I may agree with her.

“Hello again, mo bandia .” The words rolled off his tongue, and I wondered what they meant. He had me mesmerized by the deep sound of his voice. My hands on his biceps squeezed involuntarily, and he chuckled.

I pulled my hands away, my face heating with embarrassment.

The handsome man, who still hadn’t given me his name, looked down the street where the others had disappeared. I followed his gaze and knew he had to leave.

“You need to go,” I surmised. Disappointment swept over me as I realized once again that the universe only allowed a momentary interaction.

“I do,” he confirmed. He sounded as frustrated as I felt.

He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and produced a card. Handing it to me, he left me no choice with his words. “Call me. Allow me to take you to dinner. It’s the least I can do for a beautiful woman that falls at my feet.”

Those words should have sounded misogynistic. They should have sounded condescending. But coming from his lips, lips that appeared firm and delicious, they sounded romantic.

Taking the card from his hand, I looked at it. Flipping it in my hand to see the backside was blank.

Duncan Murphy.

His name and a number were all that appeared on it.

I returned my gaze to his, and his hand lifted to graze my cheek. “Call me, mo bandia. ”

With a light kiss on my forehead, he left and hurried down the street in the direction the others went.

I stood paralyzed, watching him walk away.

Pedestrians brushed past me on either side, passing in both directions. No one noticed me as I bit my lip and thought about my options.

Lucille had told me the man the universe had chosen for me would be at Mardi Gras. But there were six weeks between today and Mardi Gras. A lot could happen in six weeks. Like maybe one last fling with a handsome man before I locked myself down to the man I was supposed to be with.

As I twirled the business card between my fingers, I considered what I could gain and what I could lose by calling the number and having dinner with this man.

Was it really cheating if I was still technically single? I hadn’t even met the man the universe had chosen for me, and if I didn’t have Lucille, I wouldn’t even know I was about to meet him.

Life was a series of steps. And every step brought us further on our path. Decision made, I placed the card in my pocket and walked home. I had a dinner to get ready for.