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I hit it.

“Again.”

I send another jab into the pad, grateful to have something to do.

“You know, wi’ the parade of useless bastards your maw brought home when you were growing up, I can understand why settling down never looked that appealing.”

I grunt.

“Believe it or not, Ryan, I was the same when I was younger. Was sure I’d never marry. See, my old man couldnae keep it in his trousers. Woman after woman, but my maw kept taking him back. She was miserable, though. As was he. And they made the whole bloody house miserable. So I didnae see the appeal of marriage. Not at all.”

My hands stop. “The fuck is this? I didnae know that.”

This is Niamh’s da. He’s got a kid. And a wife.

“Aye, well, I had a life before you came swaggering into my gym, son.”

Of course he did, and yet to me he’s always been Niamh’s da. I try to cover my surprise with a joke. “You mean there’s more to you than being the Axe King’s coach?”

“Like I said, you’ve no changed much, Ryan. Still a cheeky wee gobshite.”

“Maybe I’ve no changed, but apparently you did. What happened? Let me guess. You met Stephanie, fell stupidly in love, and suddenly marriage didnae seem so terrible?”

Davie smiles. “Aye. That’s pretty much how it went.”

Well, fuck.

I bring my gloves back up. “Right, that’s enough sharing for one day, old man. Are we training or what?”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

BRIONY

I pull the twine too tight, and a stem snaps.

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.”

I ease the broken flower out of the bouquet, lay it on the bench, and reach for another. My fingers ache. The clock says twelve minutes past six. How did it get to that time? I’ve been down here since four this morning, and I still have this bridesmaid’s bouquet to finish and three more to make, the bridal bouquet to bind, stems to strip and bucket up for the arch, and an entire van to load.

I need to leave by eight if I want to be at the venue for nine. My stomach tightens. Please, please, please let the road be clear.

I tuck the replacement stem into place, rest the bouquet on the bench, and lift my coffee mug to my lips.

It’s empty. Of course it is. Now that I think about it, I finished it ages ago. I could really do with another, but there’s just no time. I put the mug down and press the heels of my hands to my eyes, then take a deep breath.

Right. Back to it. I can do this. I don’t know how, but somehow I will have everything done by eight. I need to have everything done by eight.

I pick up the twine again. As I do, I catch a reel of ribbon with my elbow and knock it off the bench. It rolls beneath the counter, where an exhausted Penny lifts her head and gives me a look.

“I know, Pen. I know.”

She does not approve of how late we worked last night, or how early we got up this morning.

I’m just retrieving the ribbon when a knock at the door makes me jump.

Ryan is outside the shop in running shorts and a T-shirt. He’s peering in through the glass at me.

Ugh. As attractive as he is—even first thing in the morning, which is frankly ridiculous—the last thing I need is an interruption. Still, I hurry over to unlock the door. “Yes? What’s up?”