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He was ambushed after a fight last night by a wee slip of a lass, who demanded she be allowed to talk to him, and he kicked the rest of us out.
Now he’s late, and Seamus is raging. He’s probably pissed he managed to drag his arse down here when he’d rather be at home with Tiggy.
The door swings open, and Seamus glares at Paddy as he slides into the room. He and Seamus start arguing about his little lass while the rest of us stand around, wishing he’d get to the fucking point.
I start paying attention when Connor joins the conversation. It appears Paddy’s little lass has gotten herself into some trouble with the Italians and gone running to Paddy for protection.
God knows why, but Paddy seems rather insistent he gives it to her. Considering our alliance with the Italians is rather strained now –given how much we called on them to help us gut the Romanians after they tried to have us all killed –Seamus is right to order Paddy to turn the lass loose. It doesn’t go over well with Paddy at all.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I frown as they go back and forth. After a spot of conversation about crying women, where Seamus is less than no help to Paddy with advice, he finally gets to the fucking point and tells us why he called us in.
“Paddy, Niall. There are some lads who’ve taken to avoiding their debts from the poker tables. I’ll need you to talk some sense into them.”
That’s Seamus-speak saying he wants Paddy and me to fuck up some cunts who’re trying to run out on their gambling debts.Nowwe’re back in familiar territory. Who knew that Seamus’s arranged marriage would lead to so many fucking conversations about women’sfeelings.
Seamus knows what I’m thinking, throwing a warning look my way. “Fists only.”
I grunt, making my feelings about that known. Seamus gamely meets my gaze.
“Paddy, you take the lead.”
Fucking fine by me. It seems like Paddy could use the opportunity to hit someone after his fucking frustrating conversation with Seamus.
We’re almost free and clear when Seamus opens his fucking mouth again, causing Paddy to stop moving out the door, blocking my exit.
“Cuddling,” Seamus grits out. Jesus fuck, this is turning into the worst afternoon of my life. “When Tig’s upset, she likes to be held.”
I can’t believe I’m present for this shite. What follows is a detailed lesson on cuddling from a man who barely knows what he’s talking about to a room full of men who have no fucking clue.
It seems like there’s an arbitrary list of fucking rules when it comes to cuddling. You’ve got to be lying down. You’re not allowed to get off. Jesus fuck, you’re not allowed to getheroff. You’ve got to stroke her hair and shit. It’s like hugging but lying down. You’ve got to do it until she feels better.
This all sounds like a fucking nightmare. Still, I listen to it all until we’re finally ordered out of the room by Seamus. You never know. It might come in handy one day.
Mellie had that crying fit the other week when I picked her up off her father’s grave and put her to bed. She cried for hours. Maybe this cuddling would have helped. Next time, I’ll try it.
MELLIE
Sixteen. I have sixteen freaking voicemails. Eleven are from my mother, one is from Fiona, and the other four are from Tiggy. I’ve been ignoring my phone all morning since my mother’s first call, assuming they were all her.
Pausing in the store's bakery section, I sigh, clicking on Fiona’s message, holding it to my ear.
“Fucking hell, girl. Call Tiggy, so she’ll stop fucking calling me!” she snaps, the message ending with a beep. Short and sweet. I would expect nothing less from Fiona.
I quickly run through Tiggy’s messages, but they’re just her getting increasingly frustrated as she demands I call her. Shit. I hope everything is okay. Hitting her number, I steer my cart one-handed. If I have to drop everything for an emergency, I still need to get the basics. My fridge is depressingly empty.
“Tiggy? Is everything okay?”
An excited squeal rings in my ear. “Paddy has a secret girlfriend!”
What? That’s not an emergency. I frown down at my grocery cart. Did I already pass the aisle with the ground coffee?
“What do you mean he has a secret girlfriend?”
Paddy Flynn seems the last person who would have a secret girlfriend. Maybe Tiggy’s pregnancy is messing with her brain.
I find the coffee aisle, searching for the brand they have at the club. It’s what Niall drinks when he’s not drinking whiskey, so I want to have some for when he comes into my apartment and fixes things.
I sigh, smiling to myself as I think of my amazing new blender. He seemed surprised when I thanked him for it, like he thought I wouldn’t have noticed.
