Page 54 of Nathan

A muscle judders in his cheek, and I’m sure he’s grinding his teeth. “I’m not talking about this, so either drop it and we can enjoy the day, or carry on and seriously piss me off. Your choice.”

He slowly turns away and heads for the door, leaving me standing there working my jaw in a tight circle as anger builds inside me. “Stop right there, Nate O’Reilly, or so help me, I’m going to kick your ass.”

He freezes in place, one foot in front of the other, mid-step. I move in front of him, my neck straining as I look up at him. Goddammit, what I wouldn’t give for a few more inches so I can have this conversation eye-to-eye.

“I will let this drop, not because you ordered me to, but because I can see you’re a hot mess, and I want you to remember this day as a happy one, not one filled with suppressed rage. I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but I’ll tell you one thing: the day will come when whatever issues you have with your brothers is going to erupt. And if you don’t take control of that shit, it’ll blow up in your face.”

This time, I’m the one who leaves him behind. I wrench open the door, storm down the hallway and into the open-plan living area. Ciaran and Millie have arrived and are sitting on the sofa. Millie is cradling Aimee who looks absolutely adorable in a soft pink dress, matching shoes, and a pink bow in her dark hair. Their eyes widen when met with a furious redhead stomping around. Ciaran glances over my shoulder to where I guess Nate is standing, then looks back at me.

“Everything okay?” he asks, concern drawing his eyebrows together.

“Fine,” I spit. “Except your brother is a dickhead.”

Millie smothers a grin while Ciaran laughs. “Well, we know that. And now you’ve caught on, you’re definitely part of the family.”

His jokey demeanor strips the tension right out of the room. My shoulders relax back in place, and as I join in with the laughter, I sense Nate behind me, his eyes boring into the back of my head. Deciding to ignore him, I turn to Millie, who I sat beside at dinner last night. We developed an immediate rapport, and I hope we’ll become friends, albeit long-distance ones. Still, that’s what social media is for.

“I love your dress, Millie,” I say. “It really suits your coloring. And Aimee looks so cute.”

“Thank you,” she says with a smile, adding, “You don’t think it makes my skin appear too pale?”

I shake my head. “Not at all. You’ll steal the limelight from Indie at this rate. Talking of which, where is the blushing bride?”

“She stayed at Alana and Paul’s last night.”

“Oh, of course. She did say that.”

“Declan okay?” Nate finally speaks, but when I look around at him, he refuses to meet my gaze.

Well, screw him. He can spend the rest of the day in a snit for all I care.

Except I do care.

I just wish he’d talk to me. We had such a breakthrough yesterday, and I’m finally beginning to feel secure, not constantly waiting for him to end things between us. Maybe I need to wait until he has a couple of drinks inside him. A little alcohol might make him more pliable. Or I could ask him again after sex. Nate is always more agreeable when his balls are empty.

“No, he’s panicking,” Ciaran says.

“I’ll go and see if he needs me to hold his hair back while he pukes.” Nate disappears upstairs to the master suite, leaving the three of us alone.

“Jesus, did you refuse to put out or something last night?” Ciaran asks, earning a sharp dig in the ribs from Millie’s elbow.

I giggle, not in the slightest bit offended at his query. “No, but I will be tonight if he carries on behaving like a child.”

Ciaran laughs. “Y’know, Dex, you’re exactly what my brother needs.”

We chat for a few minutes, and I even manage to sneak in a quick cuddle with Aimee before Declan and Nate join us. Declan’s face has a green tinge to it, and I can’t help but feel sorry for him. Although the wedding will be a small, intimate affair, it can’t be easy to stand up in front of everyone and try to remember what to say and where to stand. If it were me, I’d worry about forgetting my lines, snagging a heel in my dress, or getting sick on the pastor.

“Oh, Declan, you don’t look at all well. Shall I get you something to settle your stomach?” Millie asks.

“Mightn’t be a bad idea,” Nate says. “If he vomits on me, I’ll kill him.” He says the latter with the hint of a smile as his eyes search for me.

Whatever he and Declan spoke about while upstairs, it’s lifted Nate’s mood. My annoyance withers under his warm gaze, and I go over to him as Declan follows Millie into the kitchen.

“Truce?” I say.

He catches my hand and lifts it to his mouth. “Sorry.”

“Me, too. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

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