“To be honest…we haven’t heard much. Flight’s booked. Just depends if she’s left the vodka alone long enough to get on it.”
It wasn’t him being cruel. Just the truth. I knew by now that Tyler found it easier to be flippant about his mother than get into any gritty details. Every call with his mother reopened old wounds, and the clinic had warned him to keep contact minimal until she was steadier. Updates only. No false hopes. No broken promises.
Dad nodded slowly, a glimmer of sympathy softening his features. But it was Danny’s reaction that nearly knocked mesideways. The teasing smirk had slipped clean off his face, replaced by something I hadn’t seen in months. His voice was quiet, stripped of its usual edge.
“That’s rough, man. But…” His face softened, as though he felt guilty about his earlier teasing. “You’re here now. You’ve got Orla. You’ve got us. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”
For a second, Tyler just blinked, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard right. Then his shoulders eased, the tension in his jaw unclenching. Not gratitude exactly, more shock, but I saw the way his throat bobbed, like he was swallowing something down hard.
The silence held, heavy and fragile, until Dad cleared his throat and reached for the bottle again. “Right, enough doom and gloom. We’re here to eat, drink, and get these two properly married. Glasses up.”
Relief rippled around the table. Mal leaned over to clap Tyler on the shoulder, with a broad grin as though accepting him like another brother. “Survive dinner with us, Reed, and you’ll survive marriage just fine.”
That dragged a genuine laugh out of Tyler and the knot in my chest finally eased.
Looking around the table at Dad, Mal, Danny, Tyler, I realised maybe we’d just taken the first step toward pulling this all off.
Chapter 63
Orla
“Orla Bloody Reed!”Gwen shrieked the second she spotted me, sweeping me into one of her bone-crushing hugs. “You’ve officially outdone us all with this actual castle. And I grew up in Wales!”
I laughed, the sound bubbling up as Tom appeared behind her, looking mildly put-out beneath a stack of suitcases.
“I haven’t bought it, Gwen,” I jested. “Just rented it for the weekend.”
“Details,” she said, waving me off with a grin, her eyes already darting skyward to the turrets and ivy-clad stone. “My best friend’s getting married in a castle, and I’m telling everyone about it.”
Before I could reply, another voice chimed in.
“Bloody hell, Orla, you weren’t kidding.”
Jordan’s tall frame filled the doorway after he’d helped Kate out of the car. She was glowing, her bump obvious beneath her long dress, and my throat tightened as I rushed to hug her.
“You made it, look how big you are,” I whispered, squeezing her hard.
“Wouldn’t miss it.” She smiled, leaning into me. “Although I’d like to formally request a chair every five minutes. I forgot how heavy his big-ass babies are.” She thumbed toward Jordan, who only laughed.
“Well, as long as you don’t go giving birth at the altar. We all know how dramatic you like to make an entrance,” Gwen smirked.
“Jesus, don’t remind me,” Jordan groaned, though he was still laughing.
Kate swatted him, smoothing her hand over her bump. “Excuse me, I didn’t exactly schedule Noah’s arrival. He had his own plans.”
“What’s the itinerary then, Reeds?” Tom cut in with a grin, shaking the creases from his jacket.
Before I could answer, Tyler came up behind me, his arm sliding around my waist, pulling me flush against him. His face was beaming, I could tell from having all our friends here.
“Well, we’ve booked out the pub down the road. Guinness on tap, Irish band, guitars, buffet, the works.”
“Now that,” Tom said, his grin widening, “sounds like my kind of Irish night.”
We didn’t want a massive wedding—no celebrity guest list for the sake of it—just a handful of players from our circle, close friends, and my big, rowdy Irish family. Travis and Eve had flown in that morning with their baby daughter, along with Eddie and Sarah rounding out the little circle of people who mattered most.
But there was still the dark cloud lingering at the periphery. Tyler’s mother was due in that evening, and I’d be lying if I said my stomach wasn’t in knots about it. We hadn’t heard a word from her, didn’t even know if she’d made the flight. In a few hours, we’d know.
By the time we got to the pub, people were already filtering in. One by one, familiar faces filled the back room we’d taken over, wrapping us in hugs, handshakes, cheek kisses. There was music spilling from a fiddler in the corner, and the comforting scent of Guinness and pub food filled the air. It truly warmed my heart.
