Page 159 of On The Rocks

“I’m sorry, son,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to dredge up any upset, especially today.”

“It’s okay,” I croaked. “My emotions are complicated when it comes to my da. They always have been. There was a time when it wasn’t easy being the son of a strong, tough, but damaged Irishman who grew up in Belfast in the Seventies. He had a lot of anger inside that he took out on me when I was too young to deserve it. I love remembering him, but it’s also complicated.” Ilet out a humorless laugh. “Did you hear how me and Maeve got together?”

“Yeah. Atlas has a big mouth.” Mack muttered.

I chuckled under my breath. “I’ve been numb to my da’s death, except for the frustration I felt at what he did to me and Maeve. Maybe talking to you now has been a breakthrough.”

His eyes swept over my face until, finally, he nodded. “Now the grief’s reared its ugly head, you’re gonna feel emotional for a while. Now, I’ve never been one to look down on a man for weeping; it’s right, and it’s healthy, and everybody will get it, especially today. If a man can’t shed a tear when he sees the woman he loves in her wedding gown, there’s something very wrong in the world.” His hand tagged my nape, and he pulled me in for a man hug and a back slap, muttering, “You’ll be okay, Callum. This shit’s normal. All you can do is go with it.”

My gaze went back toward the horses, and I folded my arms and leaned on the fence. “I can’t believe I’m finally here after everything.”

“He gave you that,” Mack pointed out.

My eyes slid right to meet his. “How so?”

Mack’s mouth stretched into a wide grin. “I know you see what your old man did as a manipulation tactic, but perhaps from his perspective, Maeve was always meant to be your gift and his way of saying sorry.”

My heart tugged, and slowly, something slid through my chest and clicked into place.

Mack was right.

Da never dogged me. In fact, he did the opposite. My aul fella always knew who Maeve was meant to be for me because he felt the exact same thing every time he looked into my mam’s eyes.

Salvation.

“You okay?”Donovan muttered from beside me.

“Yeah,” I whispered, my throat burning from all the emotions hammering my insides.

A hand clasped the back of my neck, and Atlas pulled me into his chest. “Nice to see a dude who’s in touch with his feelings,” he rumbled. “But you need to chill the fuck out with the tears, Cal. You’ll have a face like an oompa loompa in your weddin’ pics. Toots will have your ass.”

Atlas was right. After the last set of wedding photographs, Maeve wanted today’s to be perfect momentos to show our kids when they asked about our wedding. The last thing she needed was for me to screw everything up again.

Atlas released me, and I sucked air in through my nose to center myself, attempting to get all the wild emotions coursing through me under control. Breathing slow and deep, I relaxed my shoulders and tried to zen the fuck out. However, it was a feat, considering I was standing in a meadow at the end of a long, white carpet with flowers down either side, being watched by a hundred people while I waited for my wife to marry me for a second time.

Beside me were my brothers, Bowie, and somehow, fucking Atlas had wormed his way into the wedding party. We were all dressed in our tieless tuxes and shirts, but somehow, the prick had managed to forego the jacket, replacing it with his SAA cut over his sage-green button-up.

Maeve thought he was hilarious.

I just thought he was an asshole.

The opening strains of Dermot Kennedy’s “Lucky” filled the air, and another big ol’ ball of emotion worked its way up mygullet until it filled my chest and throat. That song being played as my wife walked down the aisle was the only detail I’d insisted on.

Maeve was loved, and not just by me, but by everyone she touched with her awe, wonder, and trust, and I needed her to know it deep in her soul.

I cleared my throat and wiped my eyes just as Tristan and Maeve’s friend Emily appeared from behind a trellis and walked toward the aisle, hand in hand.

Emily wore a beautiful sage-green dress, the same color as the groomsmen’s shirts. Tristan wore a suit in the same shade, which apparently was totally appropriate for a maid of honor, or as Tris called himself, the man of honor, which I thought was a nice touch.

Tristan shot me a wink on his approach and kissed his fingers chef’s style. “Wait until you see our girl,” he whisper-shouted. “She’s magnificent.”

Soft chuckles came from the crowd, and then the air seemed to turn electric with a wave of anticipation. The chuckles turned into whispers as every neck craned to catch a glimpse of the bride.

My eyes drifted back to the end of the aisle, and I held my breath and waited.

The moment my gaze fell upon my beautiful Maeve, my heart dipped, and time seemed to stand still. Everything and everyone around me melted away as I studied the vision before me.

My Maeve looked like an Irish woodland fairy princess.

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