RIVER
Why do tragedies have to be so damn tragic? In Proverbs, King Solomon's sage advice of laughter being the best medicine has merit. However, laughter is also the best cover-up.
A person can hide embarrassment or loneliness with laughter.“Hugh! I’m so happy you haven’t eaten yet. I got back earlier than expected and I can join you and Tilly for lunch.”
Misdirection. Who laughs when sad?
Comic relief. It's a public service, right?
Laugh instead of frown. Laugh instead of cry. Laugh instead of scream.
River. Raven. Rowan. Sisters forever. In good times and bad.
... but remember to always...
Laugh through the bad.
1
THE DOMINION HOUSE, GUTHRIE, OKLAHOMA – DECEMBER 23 (TWO MONTHS AFTER THAT NIGHT)
Tonight was Patrick Prohibition’s first official day of operation, River's new pop-up venture, and she wasn’t just an employee. She was the president. There would be no more obsessing over Patrick O’Faolain on her part. Cheers to mental fortitude and stealthy evasions... and whiskey.
Though River was excited about her new enterprise, tonight was also the Oklahoma Historical Society gala to honor and raise money for a select few Oklahoma university professors. Raven’s husband, Bran— and wasn’t that crazy that her sister was married— sat on OHS’s board and had come up with this year’s charity ball idea after hearing their parents’ story. It was one of many reasons why River had forgiven him for hurting her sister and loved him like the brother he now was.
They’d been back in Oklahoma for a few days and had a packed schedule. A wedding, done, a charity gala, currently in full swing, Christmas, and New Year’s Eve at Irish Wolves Pub & Eatery to finish off the trip. Admittedly, River was most excited about Wolves. She was dying to see how Triskelion’s design for the bar turned out. Bran had kind of ruined that project for them last summer when he’d broken up with Raven, her older sister, but she had faith in the O’Connors following Triskelion’s vision.
Josephine O’Connor was River and her sisters Raven and Rowan’s best friend. The O’Connors ran a hospitality business, opening and managing restaurants and clubs all over the world. It was a shame Jo had a previous engagement because she was the life of every party and could have distracted her from ‘He who must not be named’— Spoiler, River wasn’t talking about Lord Voldemort.
Jo and Honey Bunny (Jo’s nickname for the behemoth always attached to her side)— i.e., Thomas MacGregor, owner of a security firm and Jo’s personal guard and favorite man to argue/flirt with— were attending an O’Connor holiday event. Not even River’s grandma, Nan, or Matilda, Bran and Patrick’s grandmother, could make it. A real pity since they were both really good at making awkward situations bearable.
Dinner and speeches were over, and River was currently standing with her sisters in the ballroom, drinks in hand. The music was proving to be quite eclectic. River highly approved.
“I think I’ve clocked ninety-nine men checking you two out. If you aren’t whisked away by the end of the night by some glorious warrior, I’ll eat spam for a month,” Raven declared, making a gag face.
“Spam is a food of the gods,soooooo, not really a hardship, but I agree, the three of us killed the ‘dress to impress’ assignment,” Rowan deadpanned.
While they were still in Dublin and knee-deep in Raven’s wedding plans, they foundthedress they wanted to wear tonight. It was unsurprisingly the same dress except in different colors. They planned on doing something similar for New Year’s Eve at Wolves. The three had long black hair to their waists and hazel eyes, thanks to their mother’s Native American heritage, and alabaster skin, thanks to their father’s Irish heritage. River, Raven, and Rowan weren’t vain, but that didn’t mean they didn’t enjoy the theater of making a scene. Dressing like one another on occasion made an impression.
Raven’s precious seven-month baby bump didn’t stop the fun either. River’s off-the-market sister may not need any male attention besides her husband, but she and Rowan sure as hell still wanted it.
Tonight was an ode to shades of blue. Raven was in Italian blue, River was in Cendre blue, and Rowan was wearing Calamine blue. The dresses were modest in the front and a party in the back. Tight crew neck, short sleeves, body molding, floor length, and then naked from behind. Bare back to the crack. Kind ofSense and Sensibilityon the front, and Elle King’sMy Neck, My Backwalking away. They all did a similar natural makeup palette with subtle differences. Raven’s gloss was slightly darker to accentuate her full lips— River would die for her older sister’s pout. River smudged a darker, smokey brown around her eyes to accentuate her naturally sultry cat eyes. Rowan didn’t need to accentuate anything. She just needed to smile. Her dimples had men tripping over their Prada loafers effortlessly.
Guthrie, Oklahoma— You are fucking welcome.
Bran had been called away moments ago for more meet, greet, and schmoozing, taking his father and brother with him. The sisters had to swallow their laughter because he made no bones about how sexy he thought his wife was, pregnant belly included. He didn’t want any man talking to her without an O’Faolain arm draped over Raven’s shoulders. Jealousy and Proud Papa mashup. It was way, way too cute. Raven was sighing and blushing in equal measure.
River casually perused the cavernous room. It truly was a splendid venue. All done up in reds, golds, and pine wreaths. Simple and elegant. River pondered what her life would have looked like if the O’Faolains had never stepped foot into the first Triskelion Territory Designs they’d started in Eufaula, Oklahoma— before Bran had hurt her sister and sent the Byrnes running to Ireland. Maybe they would have been the ones to have gotten hired to decorate for the gala tonight. Sighing, she shrugged off the what-ifs. It was neither here nor there now. River would never wish they’d never met the oil billionaires. Raven was too happy to contemplate an alternate reality.
Rowan must have noticed her study of their surroundings. “It’s a beautiful space. Bran chose well.”
“My husband has good taste. Obviously,” Raven announced, grinning, speaking of
herself, not the room.
All three of them had a good laugh over that. Lord, it still seemed impossible after the last several months that Raven was happier than she’d ever been, married, and about to be a mother.
Raven deserved her fairytale. They all did. A couple of months ago, River thought she might getherhappily ever after. Patrick’s intensity that evening in Dublin when he’d walked her home from a pub, and they stood outside Triskelion had certainlyfeltpivotal. The force of his dark eyes pinning her to the door had created some passionate fantasies on her part, but... nothing had come of it. After that night, Pat avoided being alone with her. They rarely texted. They still laughed and smiled at one another— fake gaiety... River’s specialty in times of stress. She got a few pats on the shoulder and even a couple of dreaded side hugs.
