Page 60 of Surrender
Keefe blinked.
Not the day, Keefe. Definitely not the day.
He cleared his throat, adjusting his joyful expression to something halfway between “better than I was, thanks” and “still brooding.”
Sophie placed her hand on his shoulder, giving it a little rub. “What’s the soup today? It smells delicious.”
He gulped. Sophie’s hands were a little too close to his throat for comfort. “Oh, it’s mulligan. You know, just something I whipped up.”
“Save me a bowl.” She pecked his cheek, then headed for the office, but paused in the doorway. “Keefe?”
“Yeah?”
“You’ll find the right one.”
“Thanks, sis. Now get out of my kitchen,” he said with a wink.
He’d tell her someday.
You know, after their fourth child was born. By then, it should be safe.
Chapter 18
Gwen waited in the pub’s kitchen, wringing her hands and pacing. Keefe had tried to get her to sit, to stay still, but she needed to move. So, he stood back and let her.
It was Monday—the place was closed. Work on the flat would start next week. So, no spectators there. Ginny was out for the afternoon, and Sophie was busy being a newlywed, so there was no risk of being interrupted. Nothing to worry about there.
Not that this meeting was a secret.
Okay… it so was a secret. A big one, actually. They weren’t sure how the family would take it, so they had decided—together—to keep it quiet for now. If it went well, they would tell everyone. Baby steps. For both the family’s sake and for Gwen’s.
Then they heard the front door open and close.
Keefe glanced through the small window in the kitchen door and saw Shamus step inside and take a seat at the bar. The two men made eye contact, and Keefe gave him a small, encouraging nod.
“Shamus is here.” He turned to Gwen with a reassuring smile. “Are you ready to meet your uncle?”
Her eyes got huge. “No. I mean—yes. I mean…” She shook her head and let out a shaky laugh. “I’ve never been this nervous in my life.”
She reminded herself that Keefe was here. Keefe—the love of her life, the one who believed in her completely. Even if this meeting went terribly wrong and Shamus hated her guts, Keefe would still stand by her. That much she was sure of.
She was also sure that hiding in the kitchen wasn’t going to get her anywhere.
“Yes,” she said finally. “I’m ready.”
Gwen took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, stepped toward the door—and then promptly chickened out and turned away.
“Keefe, what if he doesn’t like me? What if he doesn’t trust me? What if he only came to yell at me and say how awful I am? I know I deserve it, but?—”
“You do not deserve that,” Keefe said gently but firmly. He wanted to promise that Shamus would love her—but he couldn’t. Not honestly. He didn’t know how this was going to go any more than she did. Still, he placed his hands on her shoulders and gave them a reassuring rub, then pulled her into a warm hug and she melted into him like always. “He wouldn’t do that to you,” he murmured. “Shamus is a kind soul. I think he’s going to love you.”
“You really, really do?”
“I really, really do.”
He kissed her—slow and loving, just long enough for her to let out a breathy sigh.
“You said you always wanted a family,” he said softly. “Now you have an uncle, and he’s sitting out there waiting to meet you. Are you ready?”
