Page 122 of Mob Bride

“Hi.”

“Cormac and Seamus both texted me to say you and I are the closest in size. I hope you don’t mind, but I brought some things you might like. The girls helped me decide.”

I look at the garment bag now draped over her arm and realize she’s referring to the women my age. Shane takes the bag with a kiss on his aunt’s cheek. He starts to open it, but the woman introduced as Márgrég—Mair—snatches it from him.

“Absolutely not. You are not seeing your bride’s outfit until she steps before that judge. Go fill out the paperwork. Her parents’ll tell you her Social.”

I don’t expect Shane to know my Social Security Number yet, but he doesn’t even know my birthday. I don’t know his. Then again, he probably does since he dug into my life. I should have done the same. I don’t know his favorite food. I don’t know if he has any allergies. I don’t know?—”

“Cailín, we don’t have to do this if you’re not okay with it.”

Shane’s leaning over to whisper in my ear. I feel like I’m in a haze as I shift my focus from Mair to him. When our gazes lock, everything clicks. Cliché as that is, it does.

“My birthdate is April twenty-third. My favorite food is spaghetti, and I don’t have any allergies.”

He blinks twice before he smiles at me. He leans so close, his lips brush my ear. “My birthdate is February ninth. I don’t have any allergies. And my favorite meal is you. But if I can’t have that, I like cake with way too much frosting. I plan to celebrate by licking some off you tonight.”

He chuckles when he sees how I flush. Not blush. Flush. Heat radiates from my cheeks. I know no one heard him. It’s my erotic thoughts that match. I’m having them with his parents and mine right there. Standing, watching, knowing. Fuck my life. I’d say fuck me, but he might take me up on the offer right here, right now.

“Come on.”

Mair grabs my hand as she hands off the bag to the beautiful woman with the long braids down her back and the clearest complexion I’ve ever seen. I know her name’s Ally, and she’sFinn’s wife. He’s almost too gorgeous to take in, and she’s breathtaking. They’re equally matched in beauty. It makes us mere mortals wonder if we’re walking on the same planet. It makes me even dowdier.

“Do you wear makeup?” This comes from my other future sister-in-law as we walk into the restroom inside.

Nikki could have stepped off a runway in Paris. She’s willowy, and I bet there’s not a single piece of clothing she’s ever tried on that doesn’t fit her perfectly. A quiet woman passes me the makeup bag Nikki pulls from her purse.

“Thanks.”

Tiernan’s Seamus’s wife, and something about her puts me at ease when she speaks softly.

“We’re a lot. I’m the newest to join the family, and I’m still getting used to it. I think I know what you’re thinking. As pretty as all of them are, their hearts are far more beautiful. Don’t be embarrassed you aren’t getting the heavy white dress and uncomfortable shoes with the tiara that pokes your scalp. We’ll help you get ready. But honestly, Shane looks at you the same way all the husbands look at their wives. You could show up in a burlap sack—though I bet he’s wishing you’d show up naked—and he’d still think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. That’s how they see us. I know from the other girls—I know from myself—we don’t see ourselves the way they do. For what it’s worth, your dark hair, blue eyes, and fair skin that obviously tans well make you look like one of those classic porcelain dolls. The kind so special your parents say you can look but don’t touch.”

She grins at me, and I feel better. I never thought I looked like a doll, but I think I know what she’s talking about. I have the stereotypical Welsh coloring. Dark hair, blue eyes, the dark side of fair skin, and high cheekbones. That’s like saying all Scots and Irish have red hair—my new family excluded.

I obviously pass for more than just Welsh, but that’s because I think most people don’t know what a Welsh person’s “supposed” to look like. Pasty with rotten teeth is what someone once told me. I reminded them I’m not English. Their Liverpudlian ass didn’t appreciate that.

“Thank you. That means a lot. I’m feeling a little overwhelmed suddenly.”

“One thing you’ll realize quickly is there are few pretenses among us all. Who you are is who we want to know. Who you are is who Shane l—cares about.”

She stops herself. I follow her gaze and catch Mair turning her head away. Do they know we don’t love each other? Did Shane tell Dillan, and he told Mair? Can they all tell? Maybe not if Tiernan was about to say love and caught herself.

“Let’s see what Mom brought you.” Nikki grins as she pulls out the dresses Mair hung over the outside of the stall wall.

They vary in style from casual summer dress to cocktail. I don’t know what to pick since Shane’s in basketball shorts and a t-shirt like me. There’s one I like, but it would be way over the top in comparison. It’s way over the top for a JOP. Then again, I don’t know if people wear proper wedding dresses to have a Justice of the Peace marry them.

Wait. Mom?

It’s Tiernan who explains again. “We don’t say anything in-law. We’re just brothers, sisters, cousins, moms, dads, aunts, and uncles. I don’t know how your parents will feel, but I know Aunt Breda and Uncle Ronan would love it if you called them Mom and Da. If you’re not comfortable with that, then Breda and Ronan will make them happy, too.”

“I’ve never thought about calling anyone else Mom and Dad.”

My face heats again as I think about calling Shane Daddy. I definitely never imagined I’d call a man who isn’t my father that.The women snicker, and I don’t understand what I said that’s so funny.

Ally takes mercy on me. “We don’t talk about it because it’s private between husband and wife, but it’s not a well-kept secret. All the couples find themselves in the same dynamic. I bet you call Shane Daddy.”

I stand there with my mouth hanging open for a moment before I snap it shut. I try again, but I just look like a trout catching flies.

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