Page 47 of Surrender
“Yes, as a matter of fact she did!”
Sophie facepalmed. This fight was going nowhere. “What is it with the boneheaded men in this family? And don’t you dare start with that fate talk of yours, Connor—I’m in no mood.” She said it without even looking at him, though Connor’s mouth was already open, ready to argue.
Connor raised his hands in the air, apologizing for even considering interfering.
Pfft! Maybe Connor wouldn’t interfere but Sylvia was more than happy to. “Sophie, don’t you want your brother to be happy?”
“Of course, I do. What sort of question is that?”
“Then maybe you should see where this goes and maybe, you know, chill out a bit.”
“Did you just tell me to chill out?” Of all people, it was her adorably chubby—yet somehow still terrifying—aunt who said it. That alone was enough to break Sophie’s tension. She cracked a smile and finally relaxed.
Keefe lowered his voice. “Soph, please? Give her a chance? For me? It would be nice to have my big sister’s blessing.”
Shit. He just had to play the big sister card. The big jerk. “All right, all right. You win,” she grumbled.
The room went quiet for a minute while everyone ate some of their delicious meal. Then Sylvia began on a little trip down memory lane.
“I remember the first time I met Henry. He was so handsome and kind.” Sylvia softly smiled as she recalled the night. “You remember, Nan?” she said touching the side of her head to Nan’s shoulder beside her.
“Of course, I do. You were out with someone else and I was on a date with Jon—my parents wouldn’t let me go unless one of my brothers came along.”
“I drew the short straw,” said Henry fondly.
Nan jerked her thumb toward her brother. “He had a face on him like a slapped arse, he did—until he saw Sylvia. Later that night, he says to me, ‘That’s the girl I’m going to marry.’”
“I proposed a week later,” said Henry nodding his head and pulling his wife close to him for a gruff little cuddle that made her giggle.
It had been a long time since they had recalled these beautiful memories.
“You were on a date with somebody else?” Sophie asked.
Sylvia nodded recalling the night. “A local band was playing at the pub, I couldn’t even tell you what they were playing. Anyway, there was Henry, standing in the corner, watching me. I swear I felt his stare before I even noticed him.”
“But once she finally looked at me, I walked straight up and asked if she would dance with me,” he said looking softly into his wife’s eyes.
“All I saw was Henry. He took my hand, led me to the dance floor, and I’ve never looked back.” Sylvia smiled up at her husband. “We were married three months later. My parents told us to wait—but there was no stopping us.” After she pressed a tender kiss to Henry’s cheek, she turned her face to Sophie. “You love your brother, don’t you?”
“Of course, I do.” Sophie looked at her brother across the table. She would do anything for him. “What sort of question is that?”
“Then you’ll support him. Watch out for him like you always have—but if he’s truly in love with Ruby, fighting it won’t stop him. It’ll just drive a wedge between you.”
Sophie spoke to Keefe now but softly and with deep emotion. “What if you’re wrong? What if she’s like the others? Or worse? I don’t want you to go through what I did with my first marriage.”
Keefe understood where she was coming from and answered softly, “You introduced us. Did you think she was like the others?”
“No,” she admitted both to them and herself. “No, I didn’t.”
“Then there’s your answer.” Aunt Sylvia had spoken and now the matter was closed. “Now, can we not enjoy this fine dinner now? I’m starving and these oysters look fabulous.”
Chapter 14
The smell of garlic and something buttery was already wafting through the pub kitchen when Sophie stepped inside. Keefe stood at the stove, humming an off-key version of something that may have once been an actual song but was now—at best— a call for help.
“Do you have to do that?” she asked, leaning against the fridge with her arms crossed.
“What? Cook? You want to handle lunch service today?” he replied without turning, sprinkling herbs into a bubbling sauce with theatrical flair.
