‘Where are we going?’
‘To leave a wreath for our son.’ She squeezes my arm and I’m flooded with love, loss, and hope all in one all-encompassing tidal wave of emotion.
CHAPTERTHIRTY-NINE
SASHA
The Christmas Ball
The marquee is wedged with anyone who’s anyone in Dublin. Celebrities, politicians and even half the Irish rugby team seem to have secured tickets for this year’s Christmas ball. I’m under no illusion who they came to see.
I don’t blame them. The man is worth his weight in gold. And I’m not talking about his vocal talents. I’m talking about him. His integrity. His strength. Even as he shed a tear over our son’s grave, he still emitted a sheer blistering masculinity. I didn’t think it was possible to love him any more. Turns out I was wrong.
Dressed in a sharp tuxedo, Ryan mingles with the guests, sipping champagne from a crystal flute, occasionally sampling one of Conor’s delicious canapés, which are thankfully both succulent and plentiful.
Pierce and Frankie linger in matching tuxedos, not letting Ryan out of their reach. He’s pretty safe from what I can see, but from the commotion in reception earlier, it’s better safe than sorry. There’s no sign of Archie, though he’s definitely here somewhere. Security teams cover each exit and entrance and the front gate.
Heaters with authentic looking flames have been thoughtfully positioned around the makeshift ballroom, but even without them there are plenty of bodies to ensure it’s warm.
White string lights drape from every wall, glittering and glowing like the backdrop of a fairy tale scene. I suppose it is a fairy tale in some ways, finally it looks like I’m getting my happy ever after. Even though Ryan will have to go off on tour, finally, I’ve learned to trust he will always return.
Matt, Conor’s cousin is doing a superb job on stage of entertaining the guests along with his uber-talented band. Christmas songs belt from the front of the marquee. The dance floor is full and has been since they began playing an hour ago. No one has even asked when Ryan is getting up there. Having him mingle amongst them is a novelty.
Chloe’s glowing in a royal-blue floor-length silk gown, which has a relatively high neck but drops indecently low on her back. Who knew backs were so sexy? Men flock around her like moths to a flame.
I watch with a smirk as she laughs at something one of the rugby players whispers in her ear. He thinks he’s a player. He’s never come across anyone like my sister, on or off the pitch. I snort, wondering if he’ll be staying for breakfast.
Standing with Victoria and Megan, it’s an absolute pleasure to be surrounded by smiling faces and heartfelt laughter, cocooned by the love of my family, friends and my rockstar boyfriend.
Instinctively, Ryan turns from his conversation, striding towards us, his burning gaze trained solely on mine, loaded with an unmistakable look of love. Shimmying in between Megan and me, he slips an arm around my waist, fingering the delicate fabric of the brand-new crimson chiffon Evangeline Araceli that arrived by courier this afternoon. If my recent deliveries are anything to go by, I think it’s safe to say next time we’re in the States, I’ll have a friend to look up.
‘You smell amazing.’ Ryan’s nose dips to my neck and he dots a row of light sensual kisses across my shoulder.
‘Oh, get a room!’ Victoria squeals with mock disgust.
‘Oh, we have plenty. We’re just counting down the days until you go to college so we can do it in yours, too.’ Ryan winks at her as she makes a vomit motion.
From my periphery, I spot Conor approaching, a distinct look of apprehension in his oceanic eyes. Wearing a navy tailored suit that only enhances his stunning colouring, he drops a kiss on my cheek before shooting a glare at Ryan.
‘The canapés were delicious. You are the most talented chef in the country and I’m delighted you’re mine.’
He winces and my hand settles apologetically on his arm.
‘Just take good care of her,’ he growls at Ryan.
I send up a silent prayer that he meets someone who makes him feel like I do about Ryan. A need so feral it couldn’t possibly be ignored for years. Then he’ll realise what real love is.
‘Thank you for everything this year.’ I speak directly into his ear to be heard over the music. ‘You’ve been an amazing friend as well as chef, seriously, I don’t know what I’d have done without you.’
He nods, presses another kiss to my cheek and turns to get himself a drink. Megan follows him, winking at me as she departs.
The band break for a quick reprieve, which is Ryan’s signal to get ready. He’s due on stage immediately after the interval.
‘I’ll be the groupie screaming at the front of the stage.’ Unable to keep my hands off him, I squeeze his pert, firm backside hard enough to make him jump.
‘Come up with me, go on, I dare you…’ Mischief gleams in his darkening pupils.
Arching an eyebrow, I take the champagne flute he’s clutching. ‘Exactly how much have you had to drink?’
