Page 57 of Wicked Ruin

“Meeting adjourned,” Seamus says. “Back here in two days.”

“Look who’s the priest now.” Ashland's eyes are twinkling at me as the room empties. He didn't go on a date for six damn years—now that he has a woman to take out, he's giving me grief because I'm the one who's engaged.

“You're not married yet,” Cavin says suggestively, because that's exactly what I said to him when he was engaged to Erin. I recognize that was an arsehole thing to say at the time.

“Come on,” he says. “Have some fun. Let loose a little.”

“Are you kidding me?” I shake my head at him. “I have dinner reservations.”

“D’Agostino's?” Seamus says hopefully. “I'd kill for a piece of their lasagna.”

“Or some of that bread,” Ashland says, shaking his head. “Fuckin’ delicious.”

“No,” I say, feeling like I'm pouting like a child. “There's some new French restaurant Valentina wants to try.”

“Oh god.” Cavin shakes his head. “Not the place that charges sixty quid for a green leaf and a snail?”

“Some such,” I say. “It’s fine.”

“Meet you at the chippy later,” Lorcan says, grinning at me. “Looks like this new girl's gonna get you all civilized.”

“I am civilized,” I protest.

“Civilized doesn't mean you use a fork and a knife, Declan. Our standards aren't quite that low.”

“Oh, feck off. I’ll have you know I ate sushi on my birthday, and I liked it.”

“Sushi,” Colm says, pulling a face. “Still, I'll probably meet you at the chippy after.”

“Valentina doesn't eat mammals,” I say. “So I guess we'll see what that's like.” Why am I thinking about the last time I took Bridget to get an American-style pub cheeseburger and chips?

“Well, more for you,” Ashland says.

“At least she’s pretty,” Colm says factually. I shrug. Why does everyone say that?

Cavin falls in behind me. I slow down and wait for him. “How's she doing?” I can't help myself.

“It's not good.” Cavin shakes his head. “Erin's been up at night worrying. We want to get Bridget in with a doctor, but she won't hear it.” He pauses, turning something over. “I was wondering if maybe you could talk to her. You have a way with her.”

“Me?” I say. “You think I could talk Bridget into doing something she doesn't want to do?” I don’t tell him that I have been, every fucking day.

Cavin says nothing, which is its own kind of answer.

“She's stubborn as hell, Cav.”

“I know that.” He looks at me steadily. “I'm still asking.”

Neither of us says out loud what we're both thinking. He has more clout with her than I do at this point. I'm just a friend. And now that I'm getting married, I'm not sure I'm even that. I made a promise to keep her safe, and the cost is that I don't get to be the one who shows up when she's sick.

“Just… be careful about it. Discreet. It’s not worth pissing off Valentina’s family.”

“She's not my wife yet,” I say through gritted teeth.

Cavin's mouth curves. “I know. I seem to recall someone reminding me I could still visit The Craic, on the grounds that I wasn't married yet either.”

“That was the old me,” I say. “I've turned over a new leaf.”

“Is that the leaf they’ll put alongside your snail for dinner?”