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Fifty
Finn
The knockat the door had me grimacing because I could hear it in my skull.
“Aoife?” I called out.
No answer.
Damn, did that mean I had to open the door myself?
I was pretty sure I’d prefer to climb Everest stark naked than do that.
Huffing, I flopped onto my back and stared up at the ceiling. Seeing the ornate mural above me, I groaned, remembering where I was.
“Aoife loves it here,” I muttered to myself. “Aoife loves it here.”
If I said it enough, I’d stop whining like a little bitch about this hotel room.
Everywhere I turned, there were ornate vases and lamps and things that were destined to cost me a fortune when I tipped them over.
Grunting when the knock came again, I flopped onto my knees as I tumbled off the sofa.
“Aoife?”
When there was no answer, my hungover brain finally remembered that she was in LA with Savannah, Jen, Aela, Inessa, Camille, and Jake for Savannah’s bachelorette party.
That was why I felt like shit.
While the women were in LA, we’d gone to goddamn Reno.
Brennan and I had organized Junior’s bachelor party. If he felt as shit as I did, then I knew he’d be thankful the wedding was in a month’s time and not tomorrow.
“Reno, never, ever, ever again,” I mumbled under my breath as the knock sounded at the door.
More insistently this time.
Instead of ‘tap tap,’ it was like an oversized hummingbird was pounding it.
“I don’t want the place cleaned!” I called out.
“Finn! It’s Priestley!”
Priestley?
Who the fuck was Priestley?
It took me far too long to figure out who it was, then I heard the gusty sob of a baby.
Fuck.
Callum O’Reilly’s bride.
Rubbing a hand over my head, I stomped over to the door and pulled it open. “Priestley,” I greeted gruffly.
She looked like hell.
I hadn’t seen her since her wedding day, granted, and brides were supposed to look their best then, but she was about forty pounds lighter, and seeing as the kid was only young—
