“A present? For me? But my birthday isn’t until March, lad. You shouldn’t have gone to the trouble,” Niall explains at the same time Colin hands him a long plastic black tube.
Everyone remains silent as Niall gets up to his feet and uncaps the container. He tips it over and spreads out its content onto the table. My first impression of it is that it looks to be some sort of poster. No. The piece of paper looks older than that. Like it’s a treasured heirloom of some kind, passed down from generations.
“Col… You shouldn’t have,” Niall says as he stares at his gift in awe. “Damn thing looks like you cut out a piece of my childhood, lad. Thank you. I’ll hang it up in my office so I can spend my days surrounded by a little bit of Ireland.”
My father-in-law picks the fragile sheet up by each side and shows us Colin’s thoughtful gift. My nails sink into my palms when I realize what he’s showing us.
It’s the Monet.
The same one we saw yesterday at the Museum of Fine Arts.
He went back and stole it.
I can’t believe him!
“What do you think, Saoirse? Doesn’t it look like Ireland?”
“It’s actually a portrait of the Seine near Giverny. That’s in France, not Ireland,” I explain bitterly, taking a sip of my wine before I say something I may regret. Like how Colin is a dirty, rotten thief.
But when Niall throws an ugly glare my way, I already regret my outburst. He sits back in his seat, not sparing me another look, and starts conversing with his sons in Gaelic so that I’m left completely out of the loop.
Wonderful.
The man hates me, and it shows.
I should have kept my mouth shut. This man is never going to welcome me into his family if I continue to piss him off. Although, I think my very presence here already does that. When looking at him, Niall Kelly looks like your everyday grandpa, sans grandchildren, that is. He’s got a belly to him, two rosy cheeks, and is quick to laugh and smile.
That is, until I’m in the room.
Since we arrived at the Kelly residence, he’s made it a point not to be in the same room as me if he can help it. I’m sure if my mother-in-law agreed that he could eat lunch in the kitchen alone, he’d jump at the chance just to not have to suffer my presence.
I don’t get it.
Alejandro had told me that Niall Kelly had been adamant to do his blood vow with Tiernan, to watch out for me and protect me at all costs. To show me the respect the wife of his first-born son and heir to the Irish mob should receive. But I guess Alejandro should have read the fine print on that deal. Nowhere in it did it say Niall or any of his kin had to like me.
The only ones in this family that have shown me an ounce of kindness throughout this whole meal have been Saoirse and Shay. While my mother-in-law’s attempts to bring me into the conversation seemed honestly genuine, I think Shay only talked to me because he knew it would upset his older brother. He would purposely leer and wink at me, and when that didn’t work, he would shamelessly flirt with me in my mother tongue just to see if he could get a rise from Tiernan. I don’t know if I should be upset or relieved Tiernan never took the bait. Or maybe my husband isn’t as fluent as his brother is in Spanish. Maybe the reason why he hasn’t flipped this table over and put Shay in his place is because he doesn’t understand a word of all the things Shay has said so far at the dinner table.
“I have never been more jealous than I am right now of a damn fork.”
“Some fuckers have all the luck.”
“Are you sure you don’t have a sister back home? A cousin, maybe? Never mind. I never did like runner-ups. I’m a first prize kind of guy.”
“I bet you would look lovely handcuffed to a bedpost.”
“Being king sometimes has its perks.”
He’s been like this all throughout lunch.
If my husband had a clue, I’m sure he’d disapprove.
At least, I think it would upset Tiernan, but with him, I never know where his head is at.
Once Colin has carefully placed the one-of-a-kind painting back in its container, he walks over to my side of the table and has the nerve to sit beside me.
Great.
Another Kelly for me to be angry with.
“How could you?” I chastise under my breath, making sure no one hears my reprimand.
“I told you I liked it,” he mumbles with a shrug as if that justifies stealing a painting from a museum.
“Yes, you did. So do many other people who are now going to be very disappointed that they’ll never see its like again.”
Another noncommittal shrug.
“Don’t you have any remorse for what you’ve deprived the art world of? Any whatsoever?”
“No.” He shakes his head.
“Hmph! Well then, I’ll make a note in the future to keep an eye on things you like, now that I know you aren’t averse to stealing them away from their rightful owners’ hands.”
“Count your blessings that isn’t true,” he mutters.
“Oh, no?” I raise my brows at him, truly upset with what he’s done.
“Aye. I don’t steal everything I take a fancy to,” he protests, then mutters low enough that he thinks I can’t hear him. “But you’re sure making it hard not to.”
My forehead wrinkles in confusion at the weird remark, but I decide to just ignore him for the rest of our meal so he can feel the full weight of my disapproval of what he’s done. That painting should have stayed in a museum where art lovers all over the world could visit it and enjoy. Now it will be hung up in an old Irish boss’s office where no one will have access to it.
It’s more than a crime.
It’s downright heartbreaking.
I’m so consumed by my anger that I carelessly tip my wine glass all over myself.
Mierda!
“Oh, lass, don’t fret. I’m sure my Iris must have something that can fit you while I put your dress in the wash,” my mother-in-law says, getting out of her seat and urging me to do the same.
“Oh no, it’s fine. I don’t want to trouble you.”