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He turns to me, his fingers stroking my wrist as my breath hitches.
“Be ready to go in an hour, lass.”
I bite back a smug grin as Sally-Ann casts me a dark glance and stalks off. Slampig. I go through my closing tasks, Arthur appearing at some point.
“The main bar is closed.”
“Okay. Niall wants to take me home in about half an hour.”
“You go when he’s ready. I don’t feel like telling the Reaper no.”
I grin at him while he rolls his eyes, continuing the closing tasks.
We are finishing stacking the glasses when Niall appears at the bar.
“Are ye ready to leave, lass?”
Arthur nods to me, counting the till. I can see strippers dispersing and Paddy and Connor attempting to wrangle Seamus out of the lounge on my way to collect my bag.
“I’m getting married next week,” he tells his cousin, slumping across Paddy’s shoulders.
And so you are, Fitzy,” Paddy agrees, Connor grabbing Seamus’s other arm to steady him.
“What if she’s a fucking dog?”
“She’s not,” Ronan assures him, trailing them out.
“She’s the enemy,” Seamus laments.
“And so she is,” Paddy replies. “We’ll keep an eye on her. Don’t you worry about that.”
I don’t think I was supposed to hear any of that. I keep my eyes glued to the ground, my purse clutched to my chest as I hurry to Niall’s side. He nods to Arthur, leading me out of the club.
When we reach the staff parking lot, Niall helps me in, and I watch Paddy and Connor loading an almost unconscious Seamus into the back of Ronan’s SUV. Niall slides into the driver's seat, his eyes following mine.
“He’s not the first groom-to-be I’ve seen carried out of the club,” I say cheerfully. Niall watches as Paddy clips Seamus’s belt on, climbing into the front of the SUV and Connor getting in the back with his cousin.
“No, lass. I suppose he’s not.”
“The wedding should be nice.”
Niall’s fingers freeze on the ignition button, and he turns his face to mine, studying me carefully.
“The marriage is a farce.”
Blinking in surprise, I turn to him. What is that supposed to mean? Niall sighs, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.
“It’s an arranged marriage.”
My heart thumps in my chest. “Is that an Irish thing?”
Will Niall be presented with a bride and told to marry her? I don’t know if I can handle that. Niall shrugs, pressing the ignition button, the SUV rumbling to life around us.
“It will bring a truce between the Irish and the Romanians here in Boston.”
“So, it’s a good thing?”
“Not for Seamus.”
