* * *
Patrick stoodnext to the priest. His father and brother were keeping him company at the altar. Gran and Diana Gaines were already seated, as were MacGregor and Josephine. James and Jane had flown in yesterday and were seated by Jo. Devlen and Nan were next to Gran. Both Gran and Bébhinn had walked to the front before taking their seats. Giving hugs and kisses to not only him but Bran and Dad as well.
There were a few, very few, friends present because of the continued Delton issue. Saoirse and her fiancé, Tim Daniels. The blacksmith, Josh Ryan, and his date, Saoirse’s younger sister, Sadhbh Kennedy. Patrick did not let River invite the Murphy brothers. Cormac and Ciaran had wanted to date River and Rowan. That meant Patrick didn’t want them anywhere near his wedding. Childish? Definitely. His father, of course, heartedly approved.
A few artisans who worked with Triskelion were allowed to attend, including Stella, from whom Patrick had purchased the daisy pottery. Bre was there, proudly holding little Daniel until Raven was free from wedding duties. River and Rowan’s assistants were invited to the reception. Pat was pleased. It was simple and beautiful, just like River wanted.
He and his two best men wore dark navy wool slacks with matching vests, tweed caps, and off-white button-ups. Their cuffs were sporting new gold cufflinks. The initialed links were gifted to the men at dinner the night before. The only hiccup during rehearsal happened when Rowan laughed at something one of the wedding planners said. Patrick guessed the man was around the girls’ age, and with his black hair almost the same shade as Row’s, they looked striking standing next to one another. His father, drawn, Patrick was sure, by Rowan’s laugh, took his hulking body and dark scowl to stand behind Rowan, glaring over her head until the man finally got the hint and practically ran in the opposite direction.
River and Raven saw what happened, saw Rowan’s eyes sparkle with tears, and rounded on Patrick and Bran. Both girls spoke at once. “This can’t keep happening, Bran.” “Fix your dad, Pat, before I fucking fix him.”
Whoa. Hormones were scary. Marching orders in hand, he and his brother cornered their dad. They point-blank told him to cut the shit. Not only was he hurting Rowan, but it was Patrick’s wedding.
Dad apologized and said it wouldn’t happen again. He appeared defeated. Patrick and Bran looked at each other. Neither liked to see their father upset, even if it was his own fault. They watched him walk over to Rowan and, assumably, apologize to her as well. She nodded once before turning back to her sisters.
Now, here he was, about to marry the woman who possessed every part of him. The orchestra began playing theWedding March, and then she was there... River.
Raven, River, and Rowan walked toward him, arm in arm in arm. Patrick felt tears prick his eyes. Jesus, he was a lucky man. There was no better woman than River Byrne. When she stood before him, and he could take her hands into his own, his body, his entire being, relaxed. He would say yes. River would say yes.
* * *
Mrs. River Aster Byrne O’Faolain.Holy shit. She was married to Patrick Brandon O’Faolain. She had never, not in a million years, believed she would get her own happily-ever-after. River was the one who smiled through drama, joked in the midst of awkward, and laughed instead of cried.
She still felt every emotion; the difference was that now the feelings she showed the world were always real— always real, and it felt amazing. Patrick had his own journey to become the man he was meant to be, the man who’d only moments before slipped that beautiful sapphire ring on her finger, but she’d had her own journey too.
It was her turn to place a simple black band on Pat’s finger. River looked deep into his amber eyes and whispered, “I’m glad our journeys ended in the exact same spot.”
Patrick leaned closer to whisper back. “The next journey we do will be together. Always together.”
42
If all went as planned, this could be his last day in Dublin purgatory. Sam had spent weeks tracking the Byrne sisters’ comings and goings outside their Triskelion Territory Designs property. It was still tricky, but as his presence in the community had grown, he’d noticed less scrutiny. He hoofed every coffee delivery he could grab, always telling the customers to ask for Robbie if they wanted their coffee hot and on time.
It had been working like a charm. One or more of the sisters— impossible to tell them apart from a distance— went to the bakery only a block from their shop at least twice a week. One of the days might vary, but the second day was always Friday.
Today was Friday.
ROWAN
“Iswear if Patrick plans one more party, dinner, luncheon, tea, or picnic, I’m going to scream at the lack ofmetime,” Rowan whined to Jo as they meandered down the sidewalk after grabbing some delicious scones and muffins fromBácús, a lovely little bakery not far from Triskelion and an easy walk. May in Dublin was lovely. It was sunny and sixty-three degrees that morning.
Rowan hated to complain about the almostdailycelebrations since the wedding, but seriously. Patrick and River decided to postpone their honeymoon until after the baby was born, which would be near the end of October, so close to Rowan’s November 1stbirthday— was it bad if she wished for Baby O2 to be late? Pat being Pat, he planned on celebrating their nuptials... for months until they got the ‘real thing.’
Multiple get-togethers meant there were so many, many opportunities to practice her ‘stealth mode’ moves. Avoiding being in Hugh’s presence took determination, skill, and frankly, luck. After she humiliated herself back in February... no. No! No! No! Rowan would not think of that night or the flipping tattoo on her ass. Good choices most certainly did not happen after seven whiskey shots. Truer words...
Hugh had cornered her no less than six times over the past few weeks about what Rowan had done that night. What had Jo been referring to? If he only knew... Good God! She’d rather him believe she’d had sex with some random guy versus the truth. All Rowan needed right now was a cinnamon scone— and memory loss.
Jo interrupted her Most Embarrassing Moment reel, thank God, when she grabbed Rowan’s arm and yanked her close. “Patrick in love is quite a thing to witness, I must admit, but I don’t want to talk about that right now,” she emphasized her statement by giving the arm in her grasp a shake. “Thomas told me he loves me. Last night. And I told him I love him too.”
That brought Rowan to a standstill in the middle of the sidewalk. Hot scone forgotten, she rounded on Jo, grabbing her shoulders and doing some shaking of her own. TheBácúslogo on the paper bag bounced off Jo’s left collarbone like a door knocker. “We’ve been talking for twenty minutes. Twenty! And you’re just spilling?”
“I know! I was going for drama,” Jo giggled, looking over her shoulder to smile at Thomas, who had totally missed it since he and Peter, Rowan’s guard, were walking on their left, closest to the street. Neither man stopped scanning the surroundings. It always made her sick to think their Oklahoma stalker had followed them to another country. It had been well over a year!
Sam Delton was the reason Rowan hadn’t left Dublin yet. Escaping Dublin meant escaping Hugh. Alas, together, their families were better protected. But God, how she dreamed of working outside of Dublin, at least for a few months. Perhaps absence would make her heart grow... less fond. Whatever the opposite of ‘fonder’ was, that’s what Rowan wanted.
Banishing her depressing thoughts to focus on one of her best friend’s happiest moments, Rowan gave her a giant hug, laughing in delight at Jo’s absolute joy. She’d found her happiness just as her sisters had.
It was extraordinarily beautiful and horribly bittersweet.
