Page 4 of Surrender
“Deal.”
Sophie tipped back her can of beer, finished it off, then got up to get another from the fridge. She opened the door, then decided she needed two.
“It will be fun. I’ll just need to become an alcoholic for a while. I love you, you big jerk.”
“Me too, you pain in my—I mean, oh lovely, most generous, considerate, and may I add radiant sister of mine!”
“Nice save.”
“Thanks.”
“But just so we’re clear: I’m not your pimp!”
“Noted. But I’m still putting ‘matchmaker’ in your wedding toast.”
Chapter 3
The weather couldn’t have been more perfect if it had been ordered in advance. It was one of those rare, golden Irish spring days where the sky shimmered a clear, endless blue and the sunlight filtered softly through the budding trees. A gentle breeze carried the perfume of lilies, roses, and fresh-cut grass from the garden that cradled them on all sides. Birdsong drifted from the hedges and trees, a full symphony of chirps and trills echoing through the air like a blessing.
Bootstrap, Molly, and Bitsy had wisely claimed the shadiest patch beneath the blooming hydrangeas, sprawled out in regal laziness. Every now and then, one would raise a sleepy head to greet a passing guest with a lazy tail thump or a grumbling grunt, as if they’d been appointed honorary wedding greeters.
Keefe stood tall beside Liam at the end of the aisle, his hands clasped in front of him, but his gaze was locked on the vision making her way toward them. Sophie, radiant and serene, floated forward on the arm of their father. She had chosen to wear white, damn tradition and what anyone might whisper. This was her real beginning, the love story that should have been from the very start.
Her smile said it all—peace, joy, and absolute certainty. She glowed with it.
Liam, eyes glistening with unshed tears, reached out and shook Ronan’s hand. “I’ll never let you down,” he whispered, the words sticking in his throat.
Ronan nodded, gave his daughter a kiss on the cheek, and then stepped back.
Liam, unable to wait even one more breath, took Sophie’s hand—and then her waist—and spun her into his arms, dipping her back in a bold, movie-worthy kiss. Laughter burst from her lips even as their mouths met, and when he pulled her upright, she was giggling like a teenager in love. Their guests erupted in cheers and applause, a few hooting in appreciation.
“Impatient, are we?” the officiant teased with a wink, before clearing his throat and carrying on.
Once they’d composed themselves, barely, the ceremony began in earnest. Their vows were spoken softly but with the force of years behind them, of friendship and heartache and second chances. Promises to love, to protect, to laugh with, to never give up. And this time, they meant it in ways that only time and experience could teach.
Keefe had tried to keep it together, really he had. But once he sat beside his mother, who was weeping unabashedly into a dainty embroidered tissue that she then crammed into her beaded clutch, he lost the battle. The tears came fast and hot, dripping from his chin as he watched Liam’s ridiculous romantic stunt replay in his head.
“Jesus, Liam,” Keefe muttered under his breath with a choked laugh, brushing at his cheeks. “Couldn’t wait five bloody minutes?”
When the vows ended and Sophie and Liam were officially pronounced Mr. and Mrs. Liam Gallagher, Caitríona didn’t even wait for the music. She barreled toward them like a woman on a mission, arms outstretched, and pulled both of them into a crushing hug that managed to be both graceful and completely chaotic. Somehow, in her enthusiasm, she clunked their foreheads together.
“Mom!” Sophie laughed, rubbing her temple.
“Sorry, love. You two are just so bloody beautiful together.” Caitríona sniffed, not letting go.
Ronan joined in without hesitation, wrapping his long arms around the whole squirming mess of them. Keefe, seeing no sense in being left out, threw himself into the fray.
“We’re a joyous huddle now.”
It was Nan who broke them up—well, sort of.
“All right, all right, you’re suffocating the newlyweds! Give the poor girl some air before her hair gets flattened.”
She marched forward with all the authority of a woman who had seen enough weddings to know how quickly things could go off the rails. Really though, she just wanted her turn.
“You two feckin’ eejits,” she said, her voice breaking even as she grinned at Sophie and Liam. “You’ve made us wait this long? You have no idea how happy it makes me to see you married. Finally. Properly.”
Her lip trembled, and she swiped at her cheeks. “Oh, feck it,” she muttered, barreling in for her own hug. “Come here, the pair of you.”
