I take her by both arms and look her straight in the eyes. “Say that again.”
“Tonight. Right now.” Her eyes are bright with something wild, something that matches the chaos in my own head. “Everything’s in place. I know our families filed paperwork already, as soon as the wedding was agreed on, right?”
I blink and nod. “Right.”
“Even the priest is here, Cavin. We could… we could do it.”
“Your family will lose their shite.” I’m studying her face, trying to work out if she’s serious.
Her smile is wicked, sharp as broken glass. “They’ll absolutely lose their minds. My mother especially. Even better.”
“But your sister’s not here.”
A shadow crosses her face, and she nods. “She wasn’t going to be able to make the original date either, Cavin. Let’s do this. No excuses.”
Christ, she’s serious. And the idea of it, walking out of here with her legally mine, with none of the pomp and circumstance, without having to worry about keeping her safe for the next few weeks under another person’s roof… it’sperfect.
It’s completely fucking crazy, and it’sperfect.
I grin, probably looking half mad. “Let’s do it.”
Bronwyn’s expression when we corner her by the bar is priceless—somewhere between shocked and delighted.
“You’re having me on,” she says, eyes darting between us.
“We’re dead serious,” Erin says. “I need a witness. You in?”
“Are you absolutely mental?” Bronwyn hisses, but she’s already grinning. “OfcourseI’m fucking in. This is the best craic I’ve seen in years.”
Erin’s cheeks flush at the wordcraic,but I only wink at her.
The three of us slip through the crowd like thieves. No one’s paying attention, as they’re all too busy drinking Da’s expensive whiskey and kissing his arse. We find Father Gregory in the back corner of the room, looking half asleep in a velvet chair, with a tumbler of whiskey in his hand.
“Father,” Erin says, sweet as honey. “We were thinking…”
The priest’s eyes sharpen. He looks between us, taking in Erin’s formal dress, my suit, and the determination on both our faces as we tell him the plan.
He sighs, long and heavy, but he’s already setting down his glass and pushing himself up. “Your fathers will have my head for this.”
“More like our mothers,” I say with a shrug. “But I’ll take the hit. Don’t worry about that.”
“You’re supposed to go through pre-Cana at the church,” he says, then he shakes his head. “To discuss things like finances, children, conflict resolution… That’s just a formality though. I know as well as you do that any wedding between a McCarthy and a Kavanagh is set in stone.”
Erin looks up at me, her eyes wide. Pride swells my chest. I can’t believe she’s willing to do something so outrageous, so crazy and wild.
“Finances?” I say to her. “You’ll have all your needs met and more.”
“Aye,” she says. “I come into the marriage with a hefty dowry, so no worries there as well. And children? Do you want them?”
“Of course I do,” I say with a nod.
“Same,” she says. “Eventually.”
“Aye. Conflict resolution… I suggest we discuss that in private.”
“Alright,” she says, her cheeks flushing, and I hope she remembers the way I solved theconflictof her whipping my coat at my face.
Conflict resolution could actuallyleadto children, if we do it right.
