My stare fixated on her as she said her goodbyes with a cocky smile on her face and disconnected the call.
“Was there any need for that last part?” I demanded. “Jesus, we’re supposed to be biggin’ me up, and you’re tellin’ every fucker what a disloyal shithead I am.”
She slid her ass off the edge of my desk and slipped onto my lap, burrowing close. “Don’t worry, Mammy’s on board. She’ll whack those eejits around the head with her frying pan if they give you too much shit. But, Aiden, honey, you have to remember. I’ve got three Irish brothers who give everyone shit. If they do it to you, it means you’re part of the family.”
My chest warmed at that word.
Family.
Ash had spoken to her mom that morning and told her we were back together. Once Maureen found out I hadn’t cheated on her daughter, she was a lot more receptive to us getting married. In fact, she was on her way up from Hambleton with fancy dresses for herself and Aislynn and was intent on giving the bride away. Maureen knew it was top secret and understood why, and honestly, I got the impression she felt superior at being privy to our secret when nobody else was.
It was another tick in the pro-Aiden column, which was good, ’cause let’s face it, I needed all the help I could get.
My men were getting the bar ready for a wedding, and my boys were in the process of picking up their babes to bring them here for the nuptials, so we were all set.
In an hour, I was gonna be a married man.
And fuck me, I couldn’t damned well wait.
CHAPTER 24
AISLYNN
My heart was full as I linked arms with my mammy and walked the length of the clubhouse bar toward Pagan.
I glanced to my left and smiled at Tristan, who grinned back at me and mouthed one word.
Beautiful.
I felt beautiful too, and in that moment, I sent thanks to God that my mammy had such good taste in wedding dresses and that I was the same size as she was when she married my daddy. She’d kept her dress—as was traditional for Irish ladies—to give to me to either wear or customize when my time to get wed came.
There was nothing I would have changed about it, even if I’d had the time.
Mam’s (or now my) dress was long, satin, fitted, and white. No fuss, and no embellishments, just off-shoulder capped sleeves that showed off my diamond collar (or choker as Mam called it) to perfection.
My hair was loose and wild, the way Pagan liked it, and my makeup was natural with the same dark red lip that I’d worn to Vortex for Maeve’s bachelorette party.
Mam had given me Daddy’s wedding ring to give to Pagan because she knew I didn’t have time to get one for him, and because she also knew it was what Da would have wanted.
I beamed at Pagan, who waited by the bar for me with his boys and Murphy. They were dressed identically in their black dress pants and black shirts, grinning at me as I walked slowly toward them to the sound of Enya’s “Only Time.”
The guys had decorated the place with as many white flowers and creeping ivy as they could get on short notice. Mam had picked me up a small bouquet from Lucy Bloom’s shop on the way up, together with a few white roses for the men to pin to their button-downs.
I never imagined a clubhouse wedding could be so beautiful, but then I should have known that Pagan would do everything he could to make it special. He may have been an asshole, but he had a soft heart when it came to his boys and me.
We drew close to Pagan, and Mam gave him my hand to take. “Look after my girl,” she ordered, her tone steely. “Or I’ll take my frying pan to you, I will.”
Pagan grinned almost boyishly, his eyes never leaving mine as he rasped, “Always.”
Murphy beamed at us and started the ceremony.
A few minutes later, Pagan slid a diamond and platinum claddagh ring onto my finger, and then I watched his eyes mist over when I pushed my da’s gold and dark blue sapphire one onto his.
Exactly one minute later, Murphy’s mischievous brown eyes darted between our faces as he declared, “I now pronounce you man and wife.”
A squeal left my throat as strong hands planted under my ass and hauled me into the air. I landed over Pagan’s shoulder, and a hard slap landed on my ass cheek.
“Time to pop that cherry, bitch,” my husband muttered so softly that only I could hear the words.
