ChapterTwenty
EVIE
Istopped long enough at the house to take a shower and pack a small suitcase. Thank God I had dry-cleaned the outfits given to me on my last trip to Scotland. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but at least a few of them would be suitable for court.
I caught a ride to the pub with Colin, and he was respectful, or more likely ashamed, enough not to ask me any questions. Patrick was sitting at the family booth along with an older gentleman when we arrived. He stood up and pulled me to the corner of the room out of earshot from his guest.
“Where have you been?” he asked under his breath.
“You lost the right to ask me questions like that,” I hissed, setting down my suitcase.
“And where do you think you’re going with that?”
“Again, that’s none of your business.”
“Evie, I know you are upset with me, but please don’t cut me out,” he begged. “I had no choice, and I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”
“Keir asked me to work on a flight. He’s headed to Scotland for a few days. I said yes.”
“Keir?” His eyebrows raised in question. “You’re on a first-name basis?”
“Mr. Wilson,” I clarified.
“Is that who you’ve been with this entire time? He left last night when you did.”
“No. He’s my boss.”
“And what about the pub?” he asked. “I need you here. I thought we put flight attending on hold for the moment.”
“No, and the pub is not my problem. I’m doing my share by marrying Cormac. You need to hire more people.”
“And what about Cormac? Does he know you’re leaving?”
“Again, not my problem. I figure I have about a year left until I’m married and no longer free to do as I want.”
“Cormac’s father is here. He wants to discuss the wedding.”
I glanced at the man sitting at the booth. “Now?”
“Yes, now.”
I followed Patrick over to the booth. It had always been our family booth since I could remember. Tucked in the back of the restaurant, it offered a great view of everything that was happening. Cormac’s father stood up as we approached and held his arms out toward me.
“Evie,” he said, embracing me. “You are a vision.”
Salt and pepper hair framed a strong face. He looked like Cormac, only older, and I placed him in his late fifties. I tried not to stiffen at his touch. “It’s nice to meet you-”
“Donovan,” he offered. “But you must call me Da. We’ll be family soon.”
Hell no.
I smiled, hoping to cover up the bitter taste in my mouth.
“Your brother has so kindly offered to throw an engagement party at the pub on Saturday afternoon,” he continued.
“How generous of him,” I said dryly. “Where’s Cormac?”
“Recovering, I’m afraid. He might have overdone it last night.” His hand rubbed his chin. “Your brother and I agree. The sooner the wedding takes place, the better.”