I meet Ronan and Liam at the bar.
“Who’s your friend?” Liam asks. I glower at him as Ronan smacks him upside the head.
“Lauren’s best friend, so hands off if ye don’t want to be eating Paddy’s fists tonight or tomorrow, lad,” I grunt. Liam sighs, rolling his eyes, shooting back a drink, and striding off to find a willing woman.
“They’ll be back soon,” Ronan smirks at me. I flip him off. Just because he’s happy with his little stripper running around without him doesn’t mean I have to be.
I growl at yet another lad who is eyeing off my wife. Jesus fuck. I hate weddings. As soon as the speeches and meal are over, I’m at the abandoned bridal table, seated with her between my legs, shooting warning glances at everyone who even looks in this direction.
I’m glad Mellie’s not working as a bartender every night anymore. Now she’s not working for tips, she doesn’t have to talk to as many men who insist on flirting with her. Also, she’s home before ten most nights, which I enjoy even more than anything else.
I never really thought of myself being a man with a wife at home in my bed, but fuck me, it’s a nice feeling. I like that she wears my ring and has my name. Now I just have to convince her to stop taking birth control so she can have a wean with me.
Every time I’ve mentioned it, her response has been to say she’s only twenty-three. But I’ve started responding with the fact that I’ll be thirty next year.
She finally caved and agreed to go off birth control when we are in Ireland next May. I’ll keep working on her. Maybe I can use my Reaper voice to get her to do it sooner. I bet she’d like that.
Ronan and his little stripper have disappeared, which Mellie seemed alarmed about, but I’ve assured her Ronan will be a perfect gentleman if that’s what the lass wants. Mellie seemed about to say something else, but she got distracted by my lips on her throat.
“I want to go and see my mother.” Mellie’s voice cuts through my thoughts. I sit back in my chair to look at her in surprise.
“Sure, but ye don’t want to be doing that,amhuirnín.” I run my fingertips lightly along her jaw. “Ye know that’ll only upset ye.”
Mellie tips her head from side to side noncommittally. “She’s been leaving me voice messages. She seems quite insistent that I go and see her. Also,” she shoots me a look I can’t quite decipher. “I thought I should probably introduce you to her, seeing as how you’re her son-in-law and all.”
I shift uncomfortably in my seat. I’ve no desire to meet Mellie’s mammy. The woman didn’t protect her when she should have. She was too blinded by the lure of a rich, important husband and the siren song of the drink to stop her cunt of a husband from preying on her daughter.
To be fair, I’m almost afraid when I meet the woman, I’ll punch her in the face.
“I want to do this, Niall,” Mellie says softly, tracing her fingertips over the back of my hand where it lies on the table in front of her. I sigh, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“If it’s what ye want,amhuirnín, we’ll do it. But ye can change yer mind anytime. Even if we’re already on her doorstep.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she mutters, turning to smile shyly at me. “Dance with me?”
I’ve never been a dancer, but this is one of those things Paddy was talking about. That I’d do for Mellie because I love her when I otherwise wouldn’t do it in a million years. Standing, I hold my hand out to her.
“I thought ye’d never ask.” I smile gently at her. Mellie throws her head back and laughs, placing her small hand in mine. Jesus fuck. She’s so lovely, like an angel filled with light put on this earth just for me.
EPILOGUE
Niall
Drumming my fingers on the steering wheel, I glance over as the door opens and Connor slides in, his face like stone. You could have frozen ice in this SUV on the way to the airport, with Connor seated beside me, staring out the windshield, tension radiating off his entire being. His mother, Siobhan Fitzpatrick like a statue in the back seat, her eyes boring into the side of Connor’s head as he ignored her.
She’s off to Ireland, done with the Fitzpatricks and the lot of us. She didn’t like having to hold children as collateral. I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t like doing that either. They’re just weans. It’s not right.
As I pull out into traffic, Connor lets out a long sigh, resting his elbow on the windowsill and stroking the backs of his fingers across his lips.
“Thank fuck she’s finally gone. My home was starting to feel like the Arctic Circle.”
My eyes dart across to him. That sounds uncomfortable. A man’s home is supposed to be his sanctuary.
“Was she still giving ye a hard time about the Italian’s shopping list?”
Connor snorts, rolling his eyes. “She was giving me a hard time about not moving back to Ireland with her.”
“Why would ye move back to Ireland with her?”