“What is it, Rowan?” Raven asked softly, taking the bottle out of its bath and sitting in the rocker to situate Daniel for his breakfast. She must be concerned her little bit of whiskey from last night could still be lingering in her milk.
“I was going to tell you both earlier,” Rowan said defensively. “In the bathroom, but then... the test and baby news... and I... chickened out?” Rowan shook her head, whether it was in disbelief at what she’d done or in waiting to tell her sisters. TBD.
“Row,” River began, “you do realize that no matter what happened, we will never judge you. Ever.”
“Never,” Raven agreed. “Did you have sex?”
“Oh my God! You aren’t a virgin anymore. Holy shit!” River whisper-screamed.
“No, for the love of God. I didn’t have sex. Geez, I would have called you both last night ifthathad happened!” Rowan’s face was turning such a dark crimson that River was concerned her hot skin would split. In a bizarre turn, Rowan began to undress. She unzipped her jacket, and once off, she laid it over the side of Daniel’s crib. Next, she pulled her loose t-shirt over her head, leaving a simple white bra with two tiny daisies at the base of each strap.
River couldn’t help it. She laughed softly. “Daisies. Love.”
That made Rowan smile briefly. She tossed the shirt atop the jacket. Taking a deep breath, River imagined, to fortify what was coming next, Rowan told them, “I got a tattoo. That’s what Jo was talking about.”
Raven and River gave each other looks. What in the hell was so dramatic about that? “We three already have one. Why are you stressing about getting another? Except, I admit to being jealous Raven and I weren’t there to get matching ones!”
Rowan grimaced. “You wouldn’t want to get this one. Trust me.”
“Oh no. Is it one of those tattoo fails?” Raven asked in sympathy. “I’ll schedule laser removal sessions. No worries. Just show us.”
Shaking her head, Rowan pulled the right side of her bra to the side, revealing the small Native American tree symbol and triskelion tattoo. She looked at both her sisters. “Good, right?”
The sisters nodded in agreement. Obvi— they both had a similar version on their breasts.
She adjusted her bra back in place, replaced her t-shirt, turned around, and pulled her pants down. She then pulled the right side of her matching daisy panties aside to reveal...
“Oh. My. God!” Raven screeched, momentarily disturbing Daniel’s peaceful milk bliss.
“You didn’t!” River whispered in horror. On her right butt cheek were three initials done in a fancy, curling black font. HDO. Hugh Darcy O’Faolain. Oh, Christ, have mercy. “Are... are those your lips tattooed in red underneath... Hugh’s... good God, under Hugh’s initials?”
“Yes,” Rowan admitted as she pulled her pants back up. “Jo didn’t know what I got, just that I got one, so she didn’t know the possible,horrifyingconsequences of Hugh finding out. That being said,” and here, Rowan paused dramatically. “Death to anyone who doesn’t keep this secret until I can get rid of it. Death,” she stared at her sisters. Rowan could be scary when she wanted to be.
“Promise.”
“Cross my heart,” River promised. “So can we forget about your ass tat and the fact that you just mooned us and plan my damn wedding?”
41
Where Raven’s wedding had been all lovely beige, River’s was all white and cream with touches of slate. There were a few white rose bouquets, and that was it. The venue was stunning all by itself. River had asked for minimal, and she did get her wish— for the most part —if minimal also included a small orchestra to play the wedding march and ‘ambiance’ music during the reception, a caviar bar, three photographers, and a portrait artist.
The wedding team at The Fitzwilliam was exceptional, which, of course, included their office manager, Dom. The penthouse was reserved for the wedding party to dress, drink sparkling grape juice— thank you very much, Baby O-2 —and where River received something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue.
Something new was sapphire earrings that matched her wedding ring, black titanium posts and all. The something borrowed was from Nan. The same silver comb etched with buttercups that River’s grandpa had gifted his wife many years before. The inscription -Bébhinn, mo grá Always, Sean- melted her heart just the same as when Nan let Raven wear it at her wedding to Bran.
Then came the gift from her sisters, the same gift she and Rowan had presented to Raven. Something old and something blue. The same antique wooden box with the same Native American symbols representing the three of them was placed in her hands. A raven, river, and rowan tree. Inside held the bracelet with their parents’ wedding rings forever soldered to the metal band.
River had to swallow several times before she managed to stop the tears from leaking out. With her earrings from Pat, Nan’s beloved comb holding back her slick, black hair, and finished with a part of her mother and father around her wrist— she was ready.
River’s dress was 1920s-inspired. It was an ivory beaded silk gown— think Lady Rose’s wedding gown in Downton Abbey. It was intricate but had a simplistic beauty. River couldn’t imagine wearing any other dress today. It flowed down her body, the majesty of the twenties making her feel like a goddess. Her sisters wore flapper-inspired above-the-knee gowns. Their dresses were the perfect shade of smokey blue to complement the men’s navy suits, and they loved the intricately stitched designs and beading.
“Are you ready to marry Patrick?” Rowan asked solemnly.
“I am.”
“Are you ready to watch Rowan and I drink copious amounts of whiskey to honor this wedding while you sip lemon water?” Raven asked just as solemnly before breaking into laughter.
“Fine, damn it, I deserved that,” River laughed with the three most important women in her life. “Come on, Nan,” River took her grandma’s hand to head downstairs, “Let’s let the drunkards bring up the rear.”
