After a couple minutes, Liz drops into her seat, hot tea in hand. “Gráinne told me your news. I’m really sorry, Taryn.” Her eyes shine with sympathy. “It’s tomorrow night, isn’t it?”
I cringe. “Yep. I’ve been summoned to the O’Toole Manor for a quaint evening cocktail hour in honor of my pending nuptials,” I say as if I’m Jeeves the Butler.
I’ve played the night out in my mind a dozen times. Sometimes, I think about what would happen if I just said no. Literally. What if I waited for him to pop the question to smile and say, “Uh, nope. Don’t think so.” Or, what if I didn’t even show up? Or, what if Liam simply refuses to propose? I role-play all of these scenarios in my head. In my heart, though, I know none of these things will actually occur.
“Gráinne asked me to come,” Elizabeth shares. “Rowan doesn’t want Luca there, because he thinks it’ll cause too much drama. So, she wanted me to be her date. I wasn’t going to attend, but I will absolutely be there if you need me.” I can see the concern and sincerity all over her face. Gráinne’s fiancé, Luca, is part of New York’s biggest Italian mafia family, so I get how Rowan might only want to focus on one alliance at a time. We Irish are our own particular mess, and I suppose that’s enough to manage for one night.
“I appreciate it, Elizabeth. It would be terrific if you’d go. I may need someone to stop me from punching Liam in the throat.”
Her eyebrows shoot up while Stephanie chuckles. Unfortunately, her laughter is cut short when Elizabeth asks her, “Will you be there too? I heard Cole is going.”
“I—He—No. No, Cole didn’t say anything,” Stephanie admits quietly. Her boyfriend is an asshat. I have seen this same look of disappointment and rejection on her face too many times to count over the years. And, here’s the thing: she is so far out of his league, it’s not even funny. Seriously. I have no idea how douchebags like Cole ever manage to convince kindhearted babes like Stephanie that they are the lucky ones. I’ve seen it happen more than once. Bonkers.
I try to cut the tension. “You won’t be missing anything. I’ll smile and say yes like a good little mob princess.” My voice oozes sarcasm. I cannot believe this is my reality.
The worst part is, we aren’t even engaged yet, and Liam is already ruining my life. I am not this bitter person. Truly. I’m not. I am fun, damn it. I smile. Joke. I don’t snip at my friends. Okay. I don’t snip at themquiteso much, and they never have to walk on eggshells around me like this. I may be sarcastic, but I’m not sulky or cynical. I enjoy the hell out of life on any normal day. So much so that I apparently need to settle down. I breathe in the savory scent of roasted coffee beans as I make a futile attempt at calming myself.
“Care to share any of the conversation you’re having with yourself right now?” Stephanie grins.
I smile back at her. “We should go out tonight. Have fun. Celebrate my last night of freedom.”
She shakes her head but smiles. “That sounds like a horrible idea.”
“Absolutely. It does. What time do you want to leave?”
“Maybe 9:30? Ten?”
Elizabeth’s eyes volley between us, watching the conversation with interest. I doubt she’s ever been to a club in her life. “Elizabeth.” I catch her attention. “Can you be at our place by seven to get ready?”
“Oh,” she gasps. “Oh, wow. I’m not sure. I mean, I don’t know if I—”
“I won’t take no for an answer,” I tell her. I’m serious. Elizabeth has this calming force around her that I may need over these next few days. Plus, she could stand to have a little fun. I watch as she bites her bottom lip in thought. “C’mon. I need my girls tonight.”
That seems to do it because she nods. “Okay. I’m in. But I’m not really sure what to wear.” She seems uncertain again, and this is where my fashion goddess of a roommate comes in handy.
Stephanie claps her hands. “Why don’t we go shopping this afternoon? We can look for something to wear tonight. Plus, if you need something for tomorrow”—her voice dips a bit as she alludes to my engagement party—“you can get it while we’re out.”
“I bet Steph has a platinum card that’s burning a hole in her Birkin,” I tease.
My roommate grins as I say this, but I’m serious. Stephanie is always buying other people shit. It’s not like she doesn’t have the money, but she’s generous to a fault. God, I hate Cole. I can’t believe he didn’t at leastmentionthe event to her. Well, she can go out tonight and have fun without him. Maybe a girls’ night will do her good as well.
“I’ll text Gráinne,” I tell the girls.
“Oh. Do you think Luca will let her go?” Elizabeth asks with concern.
I throw my head back and laugh. Loudly. “Oh my God, that’s terrific. I’m going to ask her just like that. Really. ‘Do you think Luca will let you go?’ I guaran-fucking-tee you that’s the ticket to her showing up.”
Stephanie finds this hysterical while Elizabeth drinks her tea silently. I smile. Breaking sweet Elizabeth out of her shell. Getting Steph around guys that aren’t her asshole boyfriend. Watching Gráinne display her backbone to her uber-protective fiancé. Shaking my ass on the dance floor one more time as a single lady. Yeah. It’ll definitely be a good night. What could go wrong?
LIAM
“You gonna answer that?” Aidan asks, scowling at my phone as though it keeps buzzing intentionally to offend him. How he even noticed it with all the noise at this club is beyond me. The music is way too loud here, and for not the first time tonight, I’m second-guessing why the hell I agreed to come in the first place.
“Most definitely not.” I smile in response to my brother. I’ll bet Gráinne has a few more phone calls left in her before she gives up. I can wait her out. I’ve already ignored her at least a dozen times today. Talking to her won’t change anything except pissing off her boyfriend. The meathead still thinks I want his girl when nothing could be further from the truth.
If he wants to get real, he ought to be thanking me. Before returning to school this past fall, I was unceremoniously informed that my marriage had been arranged. To her. Gráinne O’Toole, daughter of the New York Irish’s mob boss. We’d be uniting the New York and Chicago clans, yet each maintaining our own domains. We’d compare notes and watch each other’s backs, but stay out of each other’s way. My father was delighted with the arrangement. Of course, that was before our latest issues. Before one of our enemies started closing in. Before Cormac O’Toole’s death in New York.
Regardless, you could say I was less than thrilled. And, to complicate things, it was obvious when my supposed bride arrived on campus she had no idea she had been promised to me. Can’t say I was too upset about it. She’s a beautiful girl, but there are a lot of good-looking girls at our school. I didn’t bother to correct her or pursue her. There was just no…spark.
