“I want to get married next week. You’ve always told your friends that you wanted something simple with a grand reception. Let’s get married before our son?—”
“Colm Gavriil,” she interrupted. She’d been tossing Colm around for weeks, but when she heard Ciar’s original name, his Russian name, she knew.
Ciar’s jaw clenched, but he nodded agreement. “Let’s get married before Colm Gavriil Murphy arrives, and then your mom and Grandma Mary can plan a reception.”
“Perfect,” she practically squealed. He took her into his arms and gave her the sweetest kiss, not nearly long or deep enough, but considering their audience, perfect.
The kiss was everyone’s cue to move. Animated congratulations and hugging, and kissing commenced. Ciaran hugged her and welcomed her to his family, saying he couldn’t wait to call her a Murphy.
Perhaps one of the most poignant moments came when Lochlann approached Ciar, and instead of extending a hand to shake like Gray thought he intended, her brother wrapped his arms around her fiancé and squeezed him tight.
“I’m sorry I judged you wrongly,” Loch said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “I’ll be proud to call you my brother.”
That sweet moment brought tears to her and her mom’s eyes once more. Then Ciaran took Ciar by the shoulders and asked him how he was feeling. “Do you feel lighter for it, son?”
Gray watched Ciar’s face closely. He nodded after a moment. “I feel lighter. Probably more than I ever have. I hated lying and keeping things from you, Gray.”
Gray took his hand and made sure she had his complete attention. “You had every right to keep those things from me. Now that I know, now that I understand why you made certain decisions and why you struggled with being honest, there is complete forgiveness, Ciar. You are mine, and I am yours, and the sooner we are married, the sooner I can adopt Imogen.” Tears threatened Gray once again at the thought of being that sweet girl’s mother.
“And in not so many years from now, our son will make us so proud playing for the Irish Rugby Union.”
There was a beat of silence before Ciar’s words registered. Ciaran whooped a cheer. Her dad…did not.
“Over my dead body, Murphy. Lochlann,” her dad swung his gaze to his smirking son, “call Uncle Colly and Laith. This needs to be settled here and now.”
“Neanderthals,” her mom grumbled.
fifty-two
THOMAS MACGREGOR
It wasa hard thing for a man to watch his daughter grow up and marry, for them to trust another man besides their father—and this was his second time. Mirren, his oldest child, had been happily married for several years with a son of her own, and now Gray.
Gray was the mirror of her mother in appearance and her drive in work, but she’d always been just that little bit more reserved than her friends. She preferred to weather storms alone.
Like him.
He’d been crushed and trying desperately to hide it for months as he watched Gray’s smile become forced, and the spark that was his daughter, diminish. She’d been hurting, and neither he nor Josephine could help her. He’d been satisfied knowing she could move home, that she’d known he’d wanted her to move home, and finally she had even though she was sad about it.
He’d almost given up hope on the Murphy boy. Josephine told him that Ciar was a loving father to his daughter and that she still hoped he would make things right with Gray.
And he had. Ciar Murphy had pulled himself apart and bled out his most hurtful wounds in front of them to prove his love for Gray. Thomas didn’t believe he could respect another man more.
It had been a sacrifice, and one Thomas would never take for granted.
He was standing in Dublin’s grand City Hall next to Josephine and their son, and Ciaran and Cormac Murphy, watching Gray and Ciar exchange vows. Mirren and her husband, Finn, and their son were in the United States for a science competition that his grandson was competing in, and couldn’t make it home in time.
Gray and Ciar decided they only wanted immediate family. No friends and no fuss.
The couple would celebrate with their large family and friend group after their son was born. Bébhinn O’Faolain—damn, but he missed her father, Hugh—and her mother, Rowan, were trying to talk Gray and Ciar into doing a double reception after Bébhinn and Dagr Griffiths’ wedding.
If he had to wager, the Byrne sisters, Raven, River, and Rowan, who were best friends with his own wife, would get their way. He was happy to do anything that pleased the O’Faolains. That family still suffered from the loss of their patriarch, and if his daughter was happy with the arrangement, he was happy.
When the Registrar pronounced the couple wed, Thomas felt his eyes burn with unshed tears. Ciar gave Gray a soft, thankfully short kiss before the newlyweds turned to look at their family with wide grins.
Josephine’s hand tightened in his grip and grinned at him, tears flowing freely from her beautiful gray eyes. Thomasremembered knowing that he was the luckiest man alive when she tied herself to him. He still felt that way.
He stepped forward and shook Ciar’s hand and slapped him on the back before drawing Gray into a tight hug, kissing her head, and gently swiping away one of her happy tears.
