His Mafia Queen

A Shocking Revelation

GABRIEL

Every cell in my body wants to get out of here and go home to Florida. Something's very, very wrong here in South Boston. But I also need to figure out where Beckett fits into this picture.

Because I'm certain he does.

"Babe, what's our plan now?" We're still in Riley's old bedroom, which is basically a time capsule of when she was in high school.

It's adorable, with the boy band posters on the walls and the lava lamp and the pictures of her and Lorna tacked onto a bulletin board.

"I dunno." She scrubs her face with her hands. "Since tomorrow's the party, do you want to talk to my dad about the wedding before or after that?"

I don't react the way I want, which is to grimace. "Probably today, I think. There's a bit of tension in the air, and it's best we clear it."

"A bit of tension?" Riley's eyebrows practically disappear into her hairline. "That's the understatement of the century."

She turns to the window and looks out. I join her there and fold her into my arms.

"We'll get through this. Trust me."

"I hope so." Her voice is muffled against my chest then she pulls back. "My mom's acting really weird. Why don't you take my dad downstairs for a beer, so I can have time alone with her? I know my mother, she won't tell me anything that's bothering her if my father's around."

"Okay, I'll do that. But why? Why won't she open up if your father's around?"

Riley shakes her head. "Because my father will tell her to stop complaining."

I already dislike Riley's father, but this makes the feelings a little more intense. Of course, I can't tell her this so I kiss her forehead. "Okay. Well. Let's do it."

I follow Riley out of the room and back into the kitchen, where Rory is draining a beer and Ava is still sitting in the same place, staring at the fridge.

"Mom, Dad? Hey there." Riley gives a little wave.

Her father sneers in response. This is one of the most challenging things I've ever done, endure this man's nastiness. How dare he treat his daughter this way?

"Mr. Murphy, I'd like to get to know you a little better. Man to man. How about we have a beer downstairs at that pub? Riley says I can get an authentic Guinness there."

Rory fixes his gaze on me. Just when I think he's going to say no, he nods. "We can do that. Let's go."

I give Riley a quick kiss on the cheek and Rory and I walk downstairs, knowing full well the next hour will make or break the rest of the weekend.

# # #

RILEY

"Mom?" When Gabriel and Dad are finally gone, I slide into the seat next to her at the kitchen table.

Her fingers are tracing invisible patterns on the worn wood surface. She glances up, her eyes distant, unfocused. "Yes, dear?"

"Are you okay?" I ask, my voice soft, a note of worry creeping in. It's like she's swimming through fog. Normally she's sharp and funny. Witty. Bubbly, even. This isn't like her.

She manages a fragile smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Of course, dear. Just tired, that's all."

But it's only noon, I want to scream.

There's something in the way she avoids meeting my gaze, the way her fingers tremble faintly against the table, that tells me there's more to it. "Mom, you seem off. Is something bothering you? Are you feeling sick? Have you been to the doctor lately?"