I reach for Erin’s hand and tuck it firmly into my side, anchoring her there. She’s tense, I can feel it, but she doesn’t pull away.Good girl.
“Erin and I have something to tell you all.” I pause, letting the silence stretch just long enough to make them uncomfortable. “As some of you know, we’re here to celebrate and announce our engagement.”
My mother’s eyes narrow slightly. She’s connecting the dots.
“What you don’t know,” I continue, my thumb brushing over Erin’s knuckles, “is that we’re not waiting until next month. Or next week.”
I feel Erin shift beside me, her fingers tightening around mine.
“We’re getting married today. Right now, actually. In about two minutes.”
The room erupts.
My mother’s mouth falls open—an actual rare sight. My father straightens, his eyebrows shooting up. Seamus barks out a laugh that sounds half disbelieving, half impressed. Tara Kavanagh gasps, her hand flying to her chest, and Padraic looks like he might have a stroke.
“Today?” Tara’s voice is shrill. “Cavin, what are you—you can’t just—there’s no time to?—”
“It’s already done, Mrs. Kavanagh.” I cut her off smoothly. “Venue’s sorted. Priest’s sorted. Witnesses are here. The only thing left is for you lot to shut up, sit down, and watch me marry your daughter.”
I look down at Erin then, and the corner of my mouth lifts. “Unless you’ve changed your mind in the last ten minutes, lass?”
Her cheeks are flushed, but there’s a fire in her eyes now, that spark I love. “Not a chance in hell.”
“Grand.” I press a kiss to her temple, then look back at the stunned faces around us. “So. You can all either get on board, or you can fuck off. Either way, this is happening.”
My mother recovers first, naturally. She stands, smoothing down her dress, and there’s the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “Well then. I suppose we’d better not keep Father Gregory waiting.”
“Erin.” Tara walks over to us, beside herself. “You can’t—can’t just?—”
“She can and will,” I tell her firmly.
“Are you deciding this for her?” Tara’s eyes flash at me. My god, the woman really does need putting in her place.
Erin snorts. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
Her mother’s jaw drops open.
“Actually, it was my idea,” Erin says. “I didn’t want to wait. It makes me so nervous. I didn’t want to go through all of this again, all the pomp and circumstance.” She turns to me, and I hold both her hands in mine. “Shall we?”
Chapter Twenty-One
Erin
The living roomhas been hastily transformed into something resembling a chapel, though “chapel” might be generous. Someone—probably Bronwyn—shoved the furniture against the walls and lined up chairs in uneven rows. Candles flicker on every available surface, their flames dancing in the draft from the windows someone cracked open because it got too stuffy with everyone crammed in here.
I’m standing in the middle of the room in the dress I wore to what I thought was just an engagement party, my hands twisting together at my waist. My heart’s hammering so hard I’m sure everyone can hear it.
Cavin’s beside me in his crisp white shirt and dark trousers, sleeves rolled up his forearms like he couldn’t be bothered with the jacket anymore. His hair’s mussed—probably from running his hands through it when he made the announcement that sent everyone into a tailspin.
Father Gregory looks mildly scandalized but game, prayer book clutched in his hands. He keeps glancing around like he’s not entirely sure this is liturgically sound, but he’s here, and that’s what matters.
“Wait,” I say suddenly, my voice cracking. “Wait, I need—can we call my sister?”
My mother’s eyes go wide. She doesn’t want anyone to see her gaunt face or skeletal frame, but I can’t imagine Bridget not being here, at least in some part.
Cavin doesn’t even blink. He’s already pulling his phone from his pocket. “Course we can, lass. Not doing this without your sister. You want to call her?”
My throat tightens. God, I may love him.
