Ryan used to tease them, accusing Jo of being in love with him, but Pat had always been adamant that they were only friends. That could, of course, change. But the real giveaway was that Pat hadn’t mentioned proposing to his brother. Aside from Sheilagh and Jo, Ryan was his best friend and greatest confidant. He confided in him about everything—especially the big, life-altering decisions.
His brother’s hand slapped onto his shoulder in a hard grip disguised as a gesture to congratulate him, and the next thing Pat knew, he was being steered into the back of the bar.
“Mind telling me what the hell’s going on?”
“Uh…”
“Look, Pat, I think it’s great that you and Jo finally figured things out. But if I did something to you or gave you a reason to believe I wouldn’t be happy for you—”
“Ry, no, that’s not it at all.”
“You’re sure? Because you can be honest with me. I think this is great.”
His brother’s sincere trust in him stunned him. He had to tell him. “Ry…”
“There you are.” Maggie appeared and smiled up at Pat. “I’m so happy for you, Patrick.”
He didn’t really know his brother’s fiancée. She was quiet and sort of shy. He wondered if she would always be there now, like for awkward confessions intended only for his older brother. He’d rather explain things in private.
“Hey, Maggie. How was the cake tasting?”
“Oh, man,” Ryan jumped in. “Did you know guys get a groom’s cake?”
“A what?”
“A cake, just for the groom.”
As his brother went on and on describing the various cakes and fillings, he noted how relaxed and excited he seemed. Pat couldn’t recall a time he ever saw him so happy. The thought of disturbing that happiness, in any way, felt like a crime.
When his cousin Luke got to the bar, Ryan was all too excited to share the news. And in a family like theirs, news had a way of traveling quickly. It wasn’t long before his phone was ringing.
“I have to take this. It’s my dad.” Pat covered his ear and stepped away from the bar. “We got tied up, Dad, but we’ll be there soon.”
“Patrick, you better get here now. Your mother just got a call from Aunt Maureen with some news and—”
“Shit.”
“Yup. And you’re deep in it.”
Of course, his cousins would waste no time with fresh gossip. And once any new information got to his Aunt Maureen, it ultimately reached his mother’s ears in under a minute. “Okay. We’re on our way.”
“Good. And Pat?”
“Yeah, Dad?”
“Congratulations.”
He hesitated, wondering why he ever thought to go along with Jo’s stupid joke. “Thanks, Dad.”
When they reached his parents’ house, his mother squealed with excitement, gobbling Jo into a full body hug. “Oh, I just knew it! I knew one day you two would fall in love. I went from having no daughters to getting two all in one year!”
“Uh, Mum, it’s still early.”
Her euphoric expression morphed into something cold and accusing. “Well, it can’t be too early, because the entire clan of your cousins already knew—before your own mother.”
He shut his eyes, wondering how long it would take to live this down. Probably as long as her disappointment, once she found out the whole engagement was a sham. “I’m fucked.”
“What’s that?” his father asked, leaning in to better hear him.
“I said I’m hungry.” He headed into the kitchen and came up short when he found Tristan rummaging through the fridge. “Hey, I didn’t know you were here.”
“Been here all day trying to fix that damn boiler. Your dad refuses to get a new one. It squeals all day when it runs and burns through fuel twice as fast as the newer models.”
“What do you expect? It’s seventy years old.”
He shut the fridge and gave Pat an appraising look. “I hear congratulations are in order.” There was no inflection to his voice.
Tristan had gone to college with Ryan. After they graduated, he moved into their house as a sort of surrogate brother from another mother. He’d since moved out and married Luke, but he still came home to fix things here and there.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Tristan shrugged. “I just find it strange.”
“What?”
“I always assumed you weren’t Jo’s type.”
He was getting tired of hearing how he didn’t qualify as husband material. “Does anyone really have a type these days?”
Tristan arched a brow. “Girls like Jo do.”
Something flashed in his eyes, and a shiver of paranoia raced up his spine. Did Tristan know Jo was gay? He was almost certain she never told him, but he’d have to double-check. If he knew, they’d all eventually know, which was inevitable anyway because this whole thing had spun drastically out of control.
His mum was so happy for them. This was going to crush her. He should come clean now before more people found out.
“Hey, you okay?”