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I shake my head and release her. "Ya owe me, princess. I'm not going to forget it."
She releases a nervous breath.
I leave the room, exit the house, and get in my car. I drive toward Dublin. It's going to be a pain in the arse to find Malachy, and all the things I still need to get done before Saturday fill my thoughts.
When I get to Dublin, I can't find him. It's around noon the next day when I've paid enough young lads to tell me where he's drinking.
He's in a pub. It's not an O'Leary one, which gives me some relief. Still, I'm in their territory, so after a lad sends me a text photo of him inside, I wait several more hours until I see him exit.
I get him to the car, grab him by the back of his jacket, and shove him into the passenger seat. I get back in and drive toward Belfast.
He slurs, "Why are ya kidnapping me?"
I grunt. "I'm not kidnapping ya. And ya need to sober up."
"Why?"
"Because your daughter wants ya to walk her down the aisle."
"Walk her..." He stares at me, then states, "I thought ya told me ya were already married."
"We are, but we're getting married again."
"Why?" he questions.
I turn down the street and speed up. "Because I want your daughter to have the wedding she deserves. Now shut up and go to sleep. Sober up so you're able to do what I assume is the only thing she's probably ever asked ya to do.
"Whatever," he mutters, then puts the seat back, closing his eyes. Within seconds, he's snoring.
I race through Dublin back to Belfast. By the time I get there, we only have a few hours before the tailor closes. I wake Malachy up, ordering, "Get out."
He sleepily glances out the window. "Where are we?"
"The tailor's. Now get out."
He obeys, and we go inside. I announce, "I need a suit by tomorrow and a tuxedo."
The tailor who's been doing my wedding preparations scrunches his face. "That's a lot to ask for."
I slap down a wad of cash. "I'll make it worth your while."
He glances at Malachy, and I notice his nose twitch.
"Sorry, he stinks. I didn't have time to clean him up."
"I don't stink," Malachy claims.
"Aye. You do."
The tailor shakes his head and sighs. "Follow me."
We go through the ordeal of getting Malachy fitted for a suit for the rehearsal dinner and a tuxedo for the wedding. Then I check him into a hotel and drop him off.
I order, "You're not to leave this room. You're to be clean, showered, and sober by tomorrow night. Understand me?"
He scowls and crosses his arms. "I don't agree with ya marrying my daughter."
"Tough shit. Ya lost her in a bet, and she's already my wife. Ya made that happen. Now, you'll do what makes her happy for one time in your life. Do ya understand me?" I warn.
