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CONOR

“Come in, Paddy!” I yelled as the door opened once I unlocked it on the app on my phone.

Returning my attention to the milkshake I was making Kat, I watched with a smile as she played on the floor with Ren and Stimpy.

I liked my diamanté cat statue but only the real deal made her laugh so that made them worth the ten pairs of socks they’d destroyed, my Star Trek couch they’d shredded to fuck, and the weird stench of cat litter that permeated the guest bath.

I guessed that was how I knew how much love I had for my kid—the destruction was worth the giggles.

As I spooned too many scoops of ice cream into the blender, Paddy walked in, looking like a disheveled and plumper version of my da.

I was gradually getting accustomed to how disconcerting that was. I didn’t remember that being a thing when he was younger, or maybe it was just me implanting that imagery over him.

Either way, I waved a hand at the blender. “Want a milkshake?”

He scratched his chin. “I’d prefer a beer.”

I tipped my head at Kat. “Nope.”

Though he heaved a sigh, he nodded. “What flavors you got?”

“I ain’t a freakin’ ice cream parlor, Paddy. I have vanilla, vanilla, and vanilla.”

Kat popped up at my side. “There’s cookie dough in the fridge.” She beamed at me and Paddy shared some of that smile by proxy. “Hi, Uncle Paddy!” she chirped. “How’s your back?”

“Umm, my back?”

“Grandma Lena was saying to Aunty Savannah that you’ve got a big zit on it.”

My brows lifted. “How the hell does she know you’ve got a zit on your back?”

Paddy flushed. “I showed it to her.”

“Why?”

He pulled on his collar. “I thought it was shingles.”

“Shingles?” I repeated blandly.

“I get them every couple years.” He scowled at me. “What is this, the Inquisition?”

“What’s the Inquisition, Conor?”

“It’s where these douches asked a lot of questions and did some bad stuff to people who didn’t deserve it to force them to answer. And it happened for centuries, too.”

“Did the douches kill them?” she asked solemnly.

“They did.”

“Then, I think that’s hyperbolic of you, Uncle Paddy.”

“Hyper-what? I don’t have high blood sugar, kid.”

Katina peeked at me, silently asking, ‘Is this guy for real?’

“Not everyone’s reading at your level, Kat.”

“But he’s old.”

“Hey!” Paddy huffed. “Why is it when I come anywhere near you, the sprog, or Star, I leave with a complex?”

“She’s right. You are a drama queen. How’s the zit?”

“It’s fine,” he grumbled. “Thank you for asking.”

“What’s with the bruise?” I queried, staring at his chin.

He scratched his nose. “Your mom’s still a dead shot with an Idaho potato.”

My brows lifted. “What did you do to deserve it?”

“Do you wanna know?”

“No.” Eying him, I grimaced as I blitzed the ice cream and poured the milkshake into a glass for Kat, directing, “Don’t put it on the floor. If the cats get into it, you can clean up their diarrhea.”

Her mouth rounded. “But I’m a kid.”

“So? Kids can clean up messes too.”

“That’s not fair.”

“How is it not fair? Just don’t put the glass on the floor so they can’t spill it over and drink it, please.”

Her brow furrowed. “But I’m playing on the floor.”

“Then you need to get up off the floor and you need to drink it before getting back down on the floor. Simple.”

Paddy scratched his chin. “She always like this?”

I smoothed a hand over Kat’s hair. “Yup.”

“In my day, we didn’t let kids answer back.”

“That’s why in my day, so many adults are effed in the head,” was my pleasant retort. “Me included.”

“I know what ‘effed’ means, Dad,” Kat called out as she wandered back to the cats and put the damn glass on the table.

Score two for me.

“She’s calling you ‘Dad?’”

If I preened, so be it. “She is. Sometimes. I never know when but it’s always a pleasant surprise if she does.”

He hummed. “Interesting. Looks good on you. You’ve always had a way with kids.”

“How would you know?”

“Saw you with Declan and Eoghan.”

“They don’t count.”

“They were kids. Brothers or not!” He studied me. “Your ma mentioned she’s in therapy.”

Not willing to discuss that with her in the room, I sniffed. “What are you doing here?”

“Can’t a godfather just come for a visit?”

“Maybe. But you’re a special type of godfather.”

“My complex is increasing in size.”

“So’s the net worth of Acuig Corp.” I arched a brow at him. “Vanilla with or without cookie dough?”

He blinked at the change of topic. “Just vanilla, please.”

“Fine. So, what’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing, I swear.” He even raised his hands. “Not like I had to go far. I’m in the same building as you now.”

I still didn’t believe him.

He huffed again. “I guess I just wanted to visit and Liam told me that everything’s settled with the Rabid Wolves too so I had to thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me. He’s family.” I thought about the basket of candy he'd sent me six or so weeks ago. "Plus, I'm not running out of junk food any time soon since he sent me a treasure trunk of the stuff. That's thanks enough."

He shook his head with a soft laugh. “You’re the best of us, Conor, do you know that?”

“Hardly. Anyway, I’m glad his problems are settled. Is… everything else under control?”

“He says so. Got himself into the NHLPA Player’s Assistance Program.” He hitched a shoulder. “Doesn’t share much with me for obvious reasons.”

Tilting my head at him, I asked, “Do you want us to buy a hockey team in the city?”

“What? So he could play here?” He frowned. “You’d do that for me?”

“Family. Remember?” That was all I said before I blitzed his drink too, but I split his between an extra glass so I could share.

As he accepted the milkshake, he stared down into the concoction, muttering, “He wouldn’t thank you for the suggestion. I was a shitty da, Conor.”

“Don’t you want to make up for it?”

“I do, but I doubt he’ll let me.”

“Don’t you think he should be around family? Just in case his situation deteriorates?”

He palmed his chin. “I mean, sure, I guess. But you can’t just buy an ice hockey team, Conor.”

“Why not? We bought a shitty soccer team. Why not add a great ice hockey team to the portfolio?”

Paddy chuckled then took a sip of his drink. “This is good.”

“She likes it with coconut milk. Always makes it taste better.”

“Huh. Didn’t know you could milk a coconut.”

I sighed. “You need to borrow books from Kat, Paddy.”

Because my godfather had inherited all the good nature from my grandmother and my da none of it, he laughed, deep from his belly. “You might be right there, Kid.” When I just chuckled, he peered at me. “You’re tired.”

“It’s been a busy couple of days.”

“Lena told me about this gala Star’s planning. She’s excited about the dress she’s bought.”

“You taking her?”

He looked at me over his glass. “Would you have a problem with that?”

“No.”

“Maybe, then.”

“You got a tux?”

“From Aidan’s wedding.”

“It still fits?”

His smile was sheepish as he patted his beer gut. “Your ma’s food’s too good.”

“Get yourself to our tailor and tell him it’s urgent. Put it on my account.” I took a sip of my own milkshake, sighing at how good it tasted. “You remember where it is.”

“Can’t do that, son. It’d be cheeky.”

“So would flashing everyone at the gala if your buttons burst.”

He hooted. “Fair, fair. Okay, I’ll go today. Thank you, Conor.”

“My pleasure.” I angled my head at him. “Think about it, huh?”

“The ice hockey team?” He grimaced. “I mean, there’s a big difference between a suit and a whole team, Con. Don’t you reckon that’s a bit excessive?”

“We’re buying respectability and legitimacy, Paddy. It’s not like they come cheap.”

My godfather pondered that but he just said, “You look like you need to get some sleep. Want me to watch the kid while you nap?”

“You’d do that?”

“Sure. She’s playing with two cats, not knives. Even I can keep her from slicing herself up.”

“Is that supposed to reassure me? She’s my kid, Paddy.”

“I can tell. Watching you argue with her was like watching you argue with Lena when you were a boy. Your da wouldn’t get it.”

“Da was an asshole.”

“Blood or bust,” he agreed with a moue of distaste. “I ain’t my brother, Conor.”

“I know.”

“I was a shitty da, but not like he was. I didn’t make Liam do anything he didn’t want to do.”

“What went wrong then?”

“I was depressed a lot. You live in your family’s pocket as long as we do, being without them is hard. Pretending to be dead, existing without a real identity, it took its toll.

“Now, I ain’t explaining it away, ain’t saying I didn’t fuck up because I did. But I shouldn’t have had a kid with how my head was screwed on, but his ma insisted, and now, I’m glad she did because he’s a good man. A little lost since what went down, but who could blame him?”

“Don’t you think bringing him into the fold would help him find himself?”

“He’s not like us. He’s an only child. Not used to a big family. It might make him feel worse.”

“Or it could make him feel better.” I tipped my milkshake at him. “Don’t let her into the office unless Star’s here, and don’t let her play with the katanas in my living room?—”

“What the hell’s a katana?”

“A sword.”

“You got a sword in your apartment with a kid around?” he spluttered.

“It was a gift from Declan,” I mumbled. “It’s up high and locked in a glass case so she shouldn’t be able to reach it, but don’t fall asleep with her around. She’s worse than a magpie.”

Paddy tugged on his shirt collar. “I dunno, Kid. Shay is normal. I watched him a few times but he didn’t try to play with swords or nothing.”

“That’s because Kat’s more fun than him.” I chuckled. “It’s okay. We’re going to go watch a movie together until Star comes and picks her up. They’re going to visit Kat’s sister. So, if I doze off, just elbow me if she wanders away from the TV. Think you can handle that?”

He rubbed his hands together. “Sure can. You got any of that Disney shit? Used to love watching it with Liam.”

That almost had me choking on my milkshake. “ You like Disney?”

“Some of those movies are fuckin’ strange, Con. Chicks getting kissed by fellas when they’re dead, dads being tossed over cliffs by a back-stabbing sibling, pricks with hooks trying to kill a group of kids?—”

I raised a hand. “I totally get why you like it now.” Shaking my head at him, I asked, “ Peter Pan , The Lion King , or Snow White , Kat?”

She stopped teasing Ren while Stimpy clawed his way up her shirt. “If you fall asleep, then you owe me some cake after gym class as well as a hot dog.”

I smirked at her, and even knowing I'd lose the deal, I still held out my hand. “We have ourselves an agreement.”