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“I've been told," I spread my hands wide and grin, "I'm extremely marriageable."

Again, nobody laughs.

"When's the wedding?" I ask.

Relief flashes across Cillian's face, before the mask slides back into place. "Saturday."

"Well then." I stand and maintain my signature easy grin. “You three better throw me a hell of a bachelor party tonight.”

"Lorcan," Cillian calls as I head for the door.

I turn back.

"Thank you."

I give him a two-finger salute on the way out.

But as I step into the hallway and close the door behind me, what I just agreed to hits hard.

I’m about to become a married man—a husband to a nineteen-year-old daughter of a disgraced Fed.

No prob. I’ve got this under control.

I head back to the pub, already mentally rearranging my week.

How hard can one small wife be?

Chapter 3

Maeve

I was fifteen when my childhood ended.

It started with the arrest.DISGRACED AGENT,the news said, my father's face above words I didn't fully understand—bribery, obstruction.

That was the trigger for my mother’s drug-induced decline.

Less than a year later, Oisin was born. My mother was already gone by then, not in body but in every way that mattered.

I ran the house while she walked around hollowed out from the inside.

She died from an overdose when Oisin was a few months old. To keep my family together, I dropped out of school and went to work.

The bus ride home takes forty-five minutes. I spend it staring out the window, my reflection ghostly in the dirty glass.

I look bone-tired. I’ve been bone tired for one thousand four hundred and twenty-three days.

My landlord is waiting for me in the hallway when I return.

Jerry’s in his late forties, soft in the middle, and has a smile like a wet handshake. He leans against the wall by my door.

"There she is." He looks me over. "You're behind again, sweetheart."

"I know. Friday. I get paid Friday."

"Mm." His eyes do that creepy thing they do. "Or, you know. We could always work something else out. Make it easier on both of us."

I smile and pretend I’m not about to puke. “I’ll have it in full on Friday.”