“Happy birthday, gorgeous.” My two best friends stand in front of me looking very smug. They look at me, then Robert, then back at me, wiggling their eyebrows—lacking in any kind of subtlety.
Robert rolls his lips between his teeth. “I’m going to say hi to Sully and my ones. I’ll be right back.”
Matthew and Bláthnaid flank me on chairs at either side. “Do you think that looked fake, Matty?Idon’t think it looks fake at all.”
My eyes go wide. “Who the fuck told you about that?” I grab an arm each and jerk them toward me.
Matthew flicks his hand. “No one needed to tell us.” He lets out a sigh. “One.” He holds out a finger like he’s got a list and shouldn’t have to say it out loud. “We’ve all read a fake dating trope. There’s a book every few months at Books and Bants with that vibe, and it’ssupercommon in sports. Especially when there’s a scandal.”
He’s not wrong. Our local romance book club, Books and Bants, definitely has a fake dating kink.
“Usually, it’s the male athlete who gets himself in trouble and needs help with his image.” He grins.
Bláthnaid leans forward and grips my knee. “Plus, your Aoife can’t hold her water. She thought we knew. And weshouldhave known.” She shoves my shoulder. “But that.” She waves her finger between me and the direction Robert has gone off in. “I know you, Rhiannon Fiadh Morrigan. And that’s not fake.”
“You’re right, it’s not.”
The two of them whoop and high-five, drawing the attention of those closest while I cover my face with my hands. I’m getting away from these two. It’s time to introduce myself to Robert’s family. I’d rather take my chances with the McAllisters than sit here and get the inquisition from my friends about my not-fake relationship with the man my da’s sending eye-daggers at from across the room.
“I’ll be back.”
“Sure you will,” Matthew practically sings at me. “Is she walking funny? Blá, do you think she’s walking funny?”
“Looks like she got dicked so well she can’t walk straight.”
A wave of heat encapsulates my body. I hate my friends. But there’s also a tiny, wee part of me that’s smug and wants to swagger, because they’re right. I have been dicked so fucking good. I can’t allow myself to mull on that, though, because Robert’s mum isright here.
“Mrs. McAllister, I’m Rhiannon. It’s nice to finally meet you.”
She takes my outstretched hand as Robert gives me wide “why’d you flee from your friends?” eyes.
“Please, call me Maryann.”
I smile at her, and a younger woman who looks like Robert with long hair reaches to shake my hand as well. “Emma. This one’s younger and far more put together sister.”
Robert winces. It’s a barely visible flinch, but it’s there, and I feel it somewhere deep inside my bones. Sibling rivalry is a terrible thing.
I give her a smile, but it’s not warm. “I don’t know about that. I think Robert could give you a run for your money. He’s the most put together man I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.”
His eyes warm as they hover on me, and I blow him a kiss.
Sully springs to his feet. “Dance with me, fly-half.”
“The fuck you will.” My protective boyfriend yanks Sully’s shirt until he sits his arse back down.
Sully’s eyes bug out of his head. Robert and I track his line of sight until his confused gaze lands on… wait… what? Sully’s staring at Bláthnaid with a mixture of what seems to be jealousy and adoration, but I don’t know him well enough to know for sure.
“What the…?” Before he even finishes his sentence, he’s on his feet and crossing the room.
The lights flicker. Robert reaches for me to sit on his lap, but I’d block his view of the drag show that’s about to take to the small stage in the Pigeon Club.
The Themuns & Usuns Queens are beyond fucking stunning. They’re a cross-community troupe that travels the country working with local youth and giving award-winning performances. It’s peace process but make it pageantry. Their tagline for shows is, “Serving peace, drama, and a wee bit of trauma.”
I can’t stop laughing as they introduce themselves. It’s my first time getting to see them, and it must have cost my family a pure fortune to get them here for a personal party. George was never interested in it, but Robert is laughing just as much as I am as Clitty Bang Bang tells us she’s built for speed and banned from every garage in County Antrim.
Buckfast Betty looks like the girl your ma warned you about—fishnets at a funeral, handbag clinking with a bottle of Bucky she’d probably bless herself with if given the chance.
Bap N’ Sausage struts out all grease-stained glamour, likeshe’s just rolled straight off a fryer but somehow makes it look filthy in the best possible way.
