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“In this life and every one after,” I told him, not bothering to whisper, if only to make it clear where I stood on my promise.
I smiled when I heard the slight murmurs of the surrounding crowd, the deviation from traditional vows enough to pique their interest. That is, until my father - my actual father, Cillian McLoughlin, whom most people in attendance knew well enough to be afraid of him - raised a hand, motioning for the priest to continue on.
The priest led us through the ‘I Do’s,’ the words echoing through the church, sealing our fate.
“You’re stuck with me,fear céile,” I told Dev under my breath, residual anger and determination still simmering deep in my gut.
But instead of balking at my anger, my resolve, Dev grinned wide as he erased the space between us, grabbing my cheeks and whispering against my lips, “Good, because I never would’ve let you fucking go.”
His mouth descended on mine just as the priest declared us husband and wife. The dull roar of the audience’s applause faded to the background as Dev’s lips moved against mine. They were so soft, a sharp contrast to the harsh scrape of his calluses and his stubble against my cheeks as he tilted my head back further to have full access to my mouth.
He licked at my bottom lip and my mouth fell open on a soft breath, allowing his tongue the space for a slow, shallow slide against mine. I felt his restraint in the lines of his body underneath my palms, how tense his muscles were as he kissed me as deep as he could without totally shocking the crowd.
The measured, controlled way he kissed me was exactly what I needed, and I relaxed into it, allowing him to take control until I was totally pliant against him. Until I was suddenly off-balance, tipped back into a dip, Dev’s lips still on mine and his hands the only thing keeping me from falling to the floor.
And when we straightened up and he pulled back, grinning so widely at me as he pressed his forehead against mine, I realized every brick I’d built over the past two weeks had turned to dust.
I was totally and utterly fucked. In so deep that I wasn’t sure I’d ever pull myself out of the feelings I had for Dev. I knew it was coming, had prepared for it as best I could, had expected to fall for him kicking and screaming, hating every inevitable moment. But as he pressed one last kiss against my forehead in a movement that felt so familiar after only a short time with him, falling for him didn’t feel like a burden I had to bear. It felt like relief.
Chapter 17
Rory
I still feltdizzy from our kiss as Dev led me back up the aisle. He grinned and smiled at the photographer while I ducked my head, blush still on my cheeks from the kiss that tilted my world on its axis. I knew it would make a great picture as soon as the photographer clicked the shutter; my quiet happiness, Dev’s cheeky excitement, the moment caught just after our first kiss.
Our wedding party followed us out, the group winding through the church until we stood outside, our photographer beginning to set up for the photos we’d take while everyone else had cocktail hour inside. Fiona dragged us into position with enough effectiveness that I worried my father might try to hire her on permanently before the day ended. She yelled out commands with such authority that she either didn’t know who she was working for or didn’t care. The photographer followed her directions alongside the rest of us, posing as instructed. I admired Fiona’s tenacity. And her ability to set up a successful wedding in a little under two weeks.
Thanks to some advance planning by Ames and Wren, Dev’s parents were the first to take pictures, standing on either side of their son with smiles that matched Dev’s in shape, though not intensity. Cormac and I joined in afterward, the introductionsbetween us short and only slightly awkward. His parents were surprisingly calmer than I expected about Dev marrying a woman he met only a couple of weeks ago. I couldn’t tell if he’d come up with a good excuse or if they knew so little about their son that it was believable he’d have a fiancée and not tell them.
The wedding party pictures were next, Alex and Bex standing to Dev’s left while my bridesmaids stood to my right. A few adjustments, directions yelled from Fiona to raise our bouquets higher, more clicks of the camera shutter. Then Fiona re-shuffled us into pairs, loving the fact that the wedding party consisted of three couples. I already knew those pictures would be the best, Alex and Bex all the more willing to smile for photos with their arms around their partners. Their smiles dropped as soon as we were called away to allow Dev a picture with his groomsman and woman.
I waited to the side with Wren and Ames while Dev took pictures with their partners, Dev’s grin twice the size of the smiles on Alex’s and Bex’s faces. Wren and Ames catcalled the three of them until they were all laughing, teeth flashing alongside the photographer’s camera. It didn’t take long for the trio to devolve into shenanigans, Bex punching Dev in the stomach when he stepped on her foot, Dev lifting her over his shoulder in retaliation.
“Don’t you dare fight him, Bex!” Wren called to her girlfriend when Bex made a move to escape Dev’s clutches. “You’ll ruin your suit! Or Dev’s! And we’re not done with pictures.”
Bex grumbled but tapped out to concede defeat, and Dev ruffled Alex’s hair while Alex rolled his eyes at their antics. The photographer didn’t stop snapping pictures, and I thought those would be the ones that captured them best, the photos of the three of them getting rowdy and starting fights. It seemed much more representative of their relationship: three people who worked with criminals, attending an arranged marriage toprotect their friends. A better fit than the stuffy, posed photos they’d taken before.
The girls and I were next, Wren and Ames standing on either side of me, our bouquets and bracelets matching as we all smiled at the camera. We were less rowdy, posing as directed, Wren and Ames occasionally reaching out to touch up my hair or the flare of my bridal train. I plucked an eyelash from Ames’s cheek, smoothed a wrinkle on Wren’s dress, and realized that even if our connection was less subtle than the brawling between our counterparts, we felt like friends. It felt like Ames and Wren were my actual bridesmaids, not women forced into the position because of some misplaced mixture of guilt and pity, like I’d initially thought.
Dad came outside with John and Cian, the three of them bringing us out some hors d'oeuvres and drinks from the cocktail hour we were missing to take pictures in the cold. Dev and I swallowed down a couple bites before Fiona yelled at us to get back into position, the two of us resigned to taking one last round of pictures before escaping to the reception.
“Why don’t you get in a few of these, Cillian?” Dev called out with an amiable smile before we’d gotten into position, shrugging when I shot him a surprised look. “After all, we would’ve never met without him. Seems only fitting to get a few wedding pictures with our matchmaker.”
He played off the lie with ease, Fiona tittering over the idea as she pushed Cillian closer to the two of us, his face equally shocked and pleased at Dev’s plan. Dad eased in beside me, wrapping his arm around my waist while Dev stood on my opposite side, the three of us smiling for a few pictures until my father excused himself to return inside.
And then it was just the two of us, Dev and I standing next to each other in whatever positions Fiona and the photographer suggested while John and Cian stood watch.
Our proximity was less awkward than I expected after our kiss. I couldn’t tell if it was because I’d gotten so used to his casual touches and affection or because our kiss had knocked down every hint of resistance I had built up against him.
I leaned into his body as his arms wrapped around my waist, chest warm against my back in a mirror to our position the night before, pressed together as we danced. Dev let out a barely perceptible groan as I wriggled into a more comfortable position against him, and I imagined it was because he was remembering the same. Or maybe he was thinking of this morning, the line we almost crossed, what may have happened if we hadn’t been interrupted.
“Kiss,” Fiona ordered us, and I didn’t even question the command, tilting my chin over my shoulder, toward where Dev still stood behind me.
Dev’s lips were already there, capturing mine with the same intensity as they had before. He kept it chaste, like he had inside, tongue barely brushing the seam of my lips as he kissed me slow enough to allow the photographer to get plenty of pictures. Then I was airborne, Dev’s arms wrapped around my thighs as he lifted me higher, my forehead pressed to his as I laughed into his mouth.
“Can’t get you close enough,” he murmured against my lips, too quiet, as if he didn’t expect me to hear.
It was something I would’ve ignored yesterday, an admission I’d tuck away to mull over later, to add to the mounting evidence that Dev actually felt more for me than obligation. Something I’d second-guess and question, fear that my personal feelings were coloring my judgment. But today, I didn’t ignore it, I leaned into it as I whispered down at him.
