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7
Tynan
Eleven Days Later
The last eleven days have flown by. I've been working nonstop, trying to tie up any pressing business before the wedding on Saturday. We've stayed at Alaina and Brody's instead of going to my place in Belfast. I figured it was easier for Maeve to stay busy if she had the other women around her.
All morning, I've holed myself up in the office attached to our suite. There are only a few things on my list I need to tackle, and I'm laser-focused on getting everything done.
A loud knock interrupts me. I glance up.
Maeve stands in the doorway. She opens her mouth and shuts it.
"What's going on, princess?"
She glances behind her, then steps inside and shuts the door. She approaches me and declares, "I want Da at the wedding."
"Absolutely not," I assert.
She puts her hand on her hip and glares at me. "It's only fair I allow him to walk me down the aisle."
I snort. "He placed ya in a bet, and he's supposed to walk ya down the aisle now?"
Determination fills her expression. Her eyes turn into slits. "Yea. And it shouldn't be a problem."
I scoff. "Shouldn't be a problem? He's a drunk gambling addict. It'll create trouble, and I don't need any stress on our wedding day."
She crosses her arms over her chest. "My da is walking me down the aisle."
"No, he's not," I state, then get up and walk toward the door.
"Tynan!"
"This discussion's over," I assert and open the door.
Fucking hell.
My dad stands before me, and I instantly regret not moving Maeve into my place. Anytime there's anything to do with Malachy, my father magically appears to interfere. And he's never on my side. He's always backing Maeve up and challenging me to go against my previous promises.
His forehead wrinkles. "Am I interrupting something?"
"No," I state.
He glances at Maeve. "Want to tell me what's going on?"
She stays quiet.
"Just a little bit of wedding nerves," I lie.
She tilts her head, and hatred fills her expression. I hate that look. I really do. I haven't seen it much in the last couple of weeks, but there's no way I'm letting her da step foot near her.
"It doesn't look like something minor to me," Dad claims.
I bark, "Stay out of our business."
He ignores my orders, demanding, "Why don't ya tell me what's going on, then?"
"Stay out of it," I repeat.
