Page 122 of Tulips and Lost Time

Sammy sits in the front row, holding the sweet girl she and Scotch adopted. And beside her, Jules cradles her and Alex’s daughter. Kane and Jess made daughters. Jay and Soph: daughters. Ang and Laine: a daughter. Seems our town has had a baby boom of the female variety. Except Marcus and the little baby boy I helped deliver. And Britt and Jack, who went ahead and made sons too. Loads of them. Big, strong, black-haired future fighters who came into this world with Brittany friggin’ Turner and Jack ‘The Jackhammer’ Reilly as their parents. It’s a potent mix, really. Boisterous and dangerous. And still, Britt shows no signs of slowing.

“Why are they taking so long?” I look at Marcus, my jaw clenching as anxiety grows too strong in my blood and my palms turn sweaty. “She’s not like my sisters, Marc. She’s not the diva who wants a grand entrance.”

“No,” he smirks, “but she’s with your sisters. So even if she was ready early and wanted to get in the car, what do you reckon the twins said about that?”

“Stop talking shit about my wife,” Kane grumbles. “I can hear you motherfuckers.”

“Don’t say motherfucker in church,” Ang snarls, pressing his arm to Kane’s chest and nudging him back. “Be better, Bish.”

“They’re fine,” Marcus rumbles. We have an entire church filled to the brim, hundreds of people watching us. Waiting. Bored, because the bride isn’t here yet. So we’re forced to keep our words low. Our lips, barely moving. “Meg is planning this thing, and she’s with the girls. She already texted me that everything is fine.”

“Everything?” Ang questions. “Laine is good?”

“Last I heard, they all did a shot of tequila to calm their nerves.”

“Fuck.” Me, Ang, and Kane all drop back onto our heels. Because tequila means trouble. And trouble on my wedding day… I look at Scotch and scowl. “This is gonna be like that time you got your new nickname, dickhead.”

“Me?” He grabs the lapels of his suit and chuckles. “What the hell did I do?”

“Don’t say hell in church,” Kane growls. “Have some class, man.”

“I’m right here,” Scotch presses on. “Sammy’s over there.” He lifts his chin in her direction. “We have nothing to do with this mess.”

“Your sister is the ringleader of messy,” I snap. “Britt is the bad influence and you know it.”

“Says Queen Messy himself,” Jack rumbles from his seat. “My wife is an angel. So you better mind your manners, Luca. Besides, everyone knows the Lenaghan twins are the fuckin’ issue.”

“Don’t say fuck in church!” Kit—his older sister—slaps his chest. “Dammit, Jack.”

“I’m hearing a lot of negativity rolling around about my wife,” Kane sneers. “I’m obligated, as her man, to throw hands on her behalf.” He looks at Jack and raises a brow. “I can fight, bro. Don’t test me.”

“You gonna bring a gun to a fistfight?” Jack chuckles. “Or will you roll like a man?”

“Define like a man.” Kane steps off our platform and casually fixes his tie. “You say fighting with your fists is noble. I say ending a fight with expediency is smart.”

“We could give it a try,” Jack taunts. So fucking casual, tucked up beside his big sister. He’s a grown ass man, married to Britt, and a world champ a few times over. But he smiles now because he has two fighter women sitting on each side of his chair. His sister. And his sister-in-law. Both know how to choke a dude out without breaking a nail. “You know where my gym is. I’ll have security let you pass.”

“Security,” Kane snorts. “Bitch, I am your security.”

“Don’t say bitch in church!” Kit explodes. “What is wrong with you people?”

“You gotta calm down,” her husband sniggers. “You’re overreacting a bit, babe.”

“Overreacting?” She spins on him, exorcist style. “You think I should calm down, Bobby?”

The organs begin playing, loud enough to drown out Bobby’s plea and apology. Then Kane laughs when Jack blows an air kiss. My entire life, everyone I know in it, is fucking crazy. But Kane, at least, backs up to stand in line beside Ang, and the doors at the rear of the church open with a loud creak and heated anticipation.

Sunlight spills in, bathing the wooden floors and illuminating dust that floats in the air. Then a wildly pregnant Britt steps in first, her skin glowing and her smile large enough to almost suggest she, too, was downing tequila shots.

She wasn’t, of course. But I have no doubt she was the one who supplied the liquor.

“See?” Marcus rumbles in my ear, grabbing my sleeve and pulling me back so I’m in line once more. I didn’t even realize I’d stepped out of it. “They’re here.”

“And they’re not stumbling.” I lean to the left and search for the rest of them. Jess. Laine. Most importantly, Kari. But the sunlight is blinding, and Britt is taking up all focus. “Bear’s gonna be with them, right? She’s not in a separate car?”

“Shush.” Jack sneers from the front row. “It’s Britt’s turn to shine.”

“This is my wedding! You shush.”

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