Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
CALLUM
S tabbing the cell phone, I ended the call and scraped a hand down my face. “Fucking bitches.”
“Who the feck are you, and what have you done with my cockhead brother?” Aislynn asked softly.
My lips twitched at the disbelief in my sister’s tone. “The girl’s been through some shit today. She wept at the state of her dead mother’s wedding dress, for Jesus’ sake. I’m not a total bastard, Aislynn.”
“You are usually,” she retorted. “And a stupid one at that.”
I shot her a death glare.
Footsteps sounded on the steps behind us, and I craned my neck to watch my two brothers approaching.
“What the fuck’s going on?” T demanded.
“Bitches two and three have sabotaged Maeve’s wedding dress,” Aislynn informed him.
Donovan pulled the lapels of his suit jacket together to ward off the chill in the air. “Who the fuck are bitches two and three? And more to the point, what happened to bitch number one?”
“The Doyle girls,” Ash spat. “And incidentally, Orla—bitch one—was involved too. They made our girl look like Alice Cooper and wrecked her mam’s wedding dress. Now she has to turn up at the church feeling humiliated to her core because those girls are complete twats.”
“Patrick should’ve stayed back at the house with her,” Donovan muttered, nodding toward the church. “Instead, he’s in there with Tyrone, acting like he hasn’t a care in the world.”
“Maeve didn’t want anyone but her own da to give her away.” My sister’s gaze caught mine, and she grimaced. “Maybe Mam and I should’ve stayed behind. Now she’s there all alone and freaking out. She shouldn’t have to deal with Orla’s crap on her wedding day.”
“I’ll wait here and give her away,” Donovan declared, rummaging in his pocket. “I’ll give her a call and let her know her big bro’s coming to the rescue?—”
“Call her?” I barked. “You’ve got her number?”
“Course I do,” he replied. “I love Maeve. She’s smart and funny.”
“I got her number too,” Tadhg piped up. “She sends me these funny history memes. They’re fucking hilarious.”
“I’m always chatting with her on the phone,” Aislynn said gleefully. “And I know she’s teaching Mam Wordle, so they talk fifty times a day.”
“I haven’t got her number,” I muttered.
“Did you ask for it?” Donovan demanded.
I shook my head.
T quirked an eyebrow. “You’re a cunt.”
Aislynn busted out a laugh.
My jaw clenched.
How the fuck did my asshole brothers have my fiancée’s digits when I didn’t? I knew they got along with Maeve—all T and Donny talked about was how great she was—but why hadn’t she given me her number? I was the one she was goddamned marrying.
“Lose her digits,” I ordered.
“Oh fuck off,” Tadhg said on a laugh.
“I mean it,” I clapped back.
Donovan held up his hands and wiggled his fingers. “Ooh, is my big brother jealous that his cute little wife prefers us to him?”
“Maybe he should stop spending his time at strip clubs and pay her some attention then,” Tadhg muttered pointedly.
Aislynn’s body jerked. “You did what?”
“It was my bachelor party,” I argued, giving Donovan a pointed look. “It’s not like I fucked anyone.”
“Well, that’s okay then!” Aislynn clipped out.
“These assholes went too,” I said defensively.
“They’re not getting married,” she shot back. “Jesus, Callum, you better hope Mammy doesn’t find out. She’ll take a frying pan to you.”
T laughed again.
I folded my arms across my chest and glared.
Assholes.
A notification chimed, and Aislynn held up her cell phone. “Maeve’s on her way. ETA is seven minutes. Get inside where it’s warm.” Her hand rested on my shoulder. “She’ll be okay.”
I dipped my chin to look her in the eye. “Do me a favor and wait for her. We’ll say you’re an unofficial bridesmaid.”
A slow grin spread across her face. “Can you imagine Orla’s pinched face getting even pinchier when she realizes I’m Maeve’s maid of honor and her girls aren’t?”
“Thanks for having Maeve’s back,” I told her, keeping my tone low to convey my appreciation.
“I’ve always wanted a sister,” Ash declared. “And I couldn’t pick a better one than Maeve.” Her hand caught mine, and she reached up to kiss my cheek, whispering, “I’m happy for you, Callum. Mae’s so sweet; she’ll make you a good wife. I just hope you don’t fuck it up like the imbecile you are.”
“Thanks for the support,” I murmured sarcastically.
My sister tipped her head back and beamed up at me. “Get inside. Your bride will be here any minute.”
Jerking my head in assent, I turned for the church, my thoughts already starting to go over the events of the morning.
So much for a quiet, uneventful wedding .
When I agreed to this, I reckoned at least Maeve would spare me any dramatics. I hated chicks who had tantrums—it was a surefire way to put me off—but weirdly, Maeve’s tears had cut me deep.
I understood why. It was our wedding day, and Ash was right; it was probably something she’d dreamed of since she was a girl. The last thing she wanted or needed was to be humiliated, especially by the same women who were supposed to be in her corner.
But she also had to learn to speak up more. Luckily, she was about to spend some time with a woman who did exactly that and had no qualms about it. A woman who, given half a chance, would have Maeve bashing me with a frying pan the second I did something even remotely fucked-up.
My mam.
Shoving my shoulder against the large oak door, I strolled into the warmth of the church and was immediately faced with dozens of pairs of prying eyes.
I plastered what I hoped was a reassuring smile across my face and announced, “Sorry, folks. The bride’s been held up. Talk amongst yourselves for a while.”
As I passed the rows of chairs, soft giggles tinkled through the air. My stare zeroed in on Shannon and Erin, who sat tittering to each other behind their hands.
A muscle ticked in my jaw.
Those bitches knew what they’d done, and they didn’t give a fuck. They were so used to being mean little assholes that they were totally unbothered about their actions and the consequences of them. But what they never factored into their nasty little prank was me. Before, I wasn’t on the scene. Now, I was, and I didn’t like witnessing their shit.
Not one bit.
Maeve was about to be my wife. She was a nice, sweet girl who my family loved.
She had my loyalty.
Bitch two and three didn’t, so they needed to start treating my wife with respect. Those girls had me close to blowing after seeing Maeve’s tear-stained face. It wouldn’t take much to push me over the edge.
Thank fuck they were both promised to those other poor assholes. Or I may have made the biggest mistake of my life and slid a ring on one of their fingers.
The thought made me shudder.
I approached Donovan, who was speaking to Father Michael. The priest’s stare caught mine, and I cursed under my breath, noting how he was checking his watch with a harassed look.
“Sorry, Father,” I muttered. “My bride ran into a problem. She’s on her way now.”
“I have another wedding in an hour, Callum,” the priest grumbled. “We’re already on borrowed time.” His eyes slid over my shoulder, and he clamped his mouth shut just as Paddy boomed from behind me, “Is there a problem?”
“Yeah,” I stated. “There was a problem. A big one. Now it’s solved.”
His forehead crinkled. “What happened?”
Pausing briefly, I weighed up my next words. Did I tell the head of the Irish Mafia his wife and daughters were cunts, or did I keep my kneecaps intact?
Sadly, I already knew my answer. It was in the heat of the angry burn inside my chest and the tick of the muscle in my jaw.
Meh, fuck it.
My stare flicked toward his wife and daughters before returning to him. “Let’s just say instead of helping Maeve, the women played some fucked-up prank. They tried to make her look like shit and sabotaged her dress. A girl gets one wedding day in our world, brother. Let’s just say that Maeve’s won’t leave her with any warm and fuzzy memories.”
“Fuck,” Patrick spat. “I knew I should’ve stayed back at the house. I warned them. Told them what would happen if...”
My lips thinned. “Unfortunately for Maeve, they didn’t listen to a goddamned word you said.”
His baby blues appeared again, and he quietly warned, “Careful, Callum.”
“Look,” I went on. “I get you’re looking out for Orla and your girls, but you gotta understand that I’m doing the same. You wanted me in this marriage, and this is the man I am. I respect you, always have, but I gotta have my wife’s back, too. What they did could’ve put this whole thing in jeopardy. She was talking about not coming.”
His gaze held mine in challenge. “It’s the only reason I’m not dragging your ass outside right now. You’re your father’s son, and that’s what I wanted for my girl.”
A presence appeared at my side. “Everythin’ okay?”
Glancing at Donovan, I nodded. “Just tellin’ Paddy what went down with Maeve this morning.”
“Right,” Donny drawled.
Paddy had the nerve to look affronted. “I’ll deal with it.”
“Hope so,” my bro muttered. “Would hate to start a family feud because your girls are being disrespectful. Our mam won’t like that shit, she thinks the world of Maeve, and we know how Ma can get feisty.”
Paddy tipped his head back, muttering, “God help us all. Fucking women will be the death of me.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to agree with him, seeing as the ones he’d raised were spoiled brats and his wife behaved like a stuck-up witch, but I reckoned I’d already pushed my luck enough for one day. Telling the head of the Irish Mafia—related or not—that he wasn’t effectively handling the women in his life crossed a line I was already skating close to. I’d gotten my point across; I didn’t need to flog a dead horse, especially as the dead horse in question would be me if I carried on.
Murmurs came from the tiny congregation, and the first strains of music filled the church.
I looked up expectantly, and my head whipped toward the door to see Aislynn giving me the thumbs-up as she disappeared outside.
I breathed a discreet sigh of relief.
Maeve was here.
Paddy clapped his hands and rubbed them together gleefully. “Right. Let’s do this.”
He turned for the pew, his stare resting on Orla, who looked decidedly uncomfortable. “No disappearing after the service, Dear . We need a chat.”
Shannon giggled loudly, letting out a loud “Ouch” as Erin elbowed her in the ribs.
“Shut your mouths,” Patrick snapped with a thread of warning in his tone that would’ve made a grown man’s balls shrivel up.
Shannon’s face burned with anger, but she obeyed, albeit huffily.
Light suddenly shone from the back of the church, and I caught a glimpse of Ash. Then Tadhg stepped forward and dipped his head to talk to the woman by his side.
Swathes of white lace ruffles caught my eye. My gaze fell upon Maeve, and my heart plummeted.
Jesus fuck.
Maeve really did look fucking awful.
I detested myself for even thinking it because who fucking did that? Who looked at his bride walking down the aisle and had to stop himself from recoiling?
Her dress was old-fashioned, verging on the ridiculous. It had a high neck where a scrap of lace looked as if it was choking her. Cheap netted material covered her chest, with ruffles on either side going from shoulder to waist in a V shape reminiscent of something Michael Jackson wore in his “Thriller” video.
The godawful dress didn’t even fit her. It hung baggy at the shoulders, pulled tight across her tits, then pulled baggy at the waist again. Orla must have taken Maeve’s measurements and told the seamstress to completely goddamned ignore them.
I wasn’t a fashionista by any stretch of the imagination. Still, even I could see that dress was a fucking eyesore.
The closer Maeve approached the aisle, the louder the murmurs became.
A few titters went up from a group of older women who sat in the second row, mingling with the loud coughs filling the air as a couple of young guys I didn’t recognize tried to disguise their laughter.
Maeve looked completely stricken. Her cheeks burned with humiliation, and I had to consciously stop myself from stomping over to the assholes and not rip their throats out.
“Easy, tiger,” Donovan muttered. “They’ll keep. Think of Maeve; she’s probably embarrassed enough without you starting a fight in the fucking church.”
My eyes met hers and held before I jerked my head high, a silent command for her to do the same.
She furiously blinked, no doubt trying to stop her tears from coursing down her face. Still, she tipped up her chin and glided toward me, her movements graceful while her watery gaze remained fixated on mine.
My hand reached for hers, automatically splaying our fingers together, and I whispered, “Ignore them.”
Her other-worldly blue irises, bright with unshed tears, flicked between mine, and she nodded.
The priest’s voice rang out. “Dearly beloved, you have come together into the house of the Church?—”
Shannon’s giggle floated toward me, and she murmured, “Jesus, she looks like a girl nerd from a bad eighties movie. I wouldn’t go out in public looking like that.”
Maeve’s face crumpled, and my heart seized at her humiliation.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t put Maeve through this shitshow. It wasn’t right.
My neck twisted toward Father Michael, and my words rang loud and true. “Stop the wedding.”
Gasps filled the air.
“Callum,” Donovan said in a warning tone from behind me.
“I know what I’m doing,” I retorted, turning toward the congregation. My head swiveled toward the front pew where Paddy sat, glaring at his daughters. Then I watched, fascinated, as my words registered somewhere in his psyche, and his head jerked in my direction.
A look passed between us.
“Get them out!” I snarled.
He stood up. “Callum?—”
“Get them out, or the wedding’s off,” I threatened, meaning every damned word. This marriage was in no way a traditional one, and Maeve wasn’t a conventional bride, but that didn’t mean they could make her the butt of their jokes. It was bordering on abuse.
My stare swept through the two front pews filled with the people, who minutes before had laughed at my bride. The same people who sat there on her wedding day, pretending to support her, but who still looked down on her because some nasty, jealous bitches had played a cruel prank and humiliated her.
The burn in my chest intensified. “I want everybody out,” I roared. “The only ones staying are my immediate family, Patrick and Liam. The rest of you can leave. The reception’s canceled, too. The second the ceremony’s over, we’re outta here.”
Chaos descended as people stood from their seats and began to throw angry looks and even obscenities at me.
Father Michael signed the shape of the Holy Cross over his chest.
“I spent a week planning that reception,” Orla bitched, glaring in my direction.
My lip curled. “Does my face look like I give a flying fu?—”
“Callum!” Ma shrieked. “Not in the house of God.”
Donovan barked a laugh.
I closed my mouth, folding my arms across my chest, and stared down what seemed like every fucker in that room as they stood, throwing clipped words at me, acting all offended.
“Are you deaf or just stupid?” I bellowed. “I said, get out!”
More grumbles went up, and I watched the entire two rows gather their shit, get to their feet, and make for the doors.
The sounds of an argument caught my attention, and my stare slashed toward Patrick, who quietly spoke to his wife and daughters. Although his tone was low, I was in no doubt his words were heated, seeing as his expression conveyed he was almost as fucking furious as me.
“You okay, bro,” T murmured, sidling up beside me.
“I will be when those assholes get the fuck outta here,” I muttered, turning to Maeve. “You okay, sweetheart?”
Her eyes were still on me, but instead of shining with tears, they shone with something else.
“Holy moly,” she breathed. “That was awesome !” She turned to Donovan. “Did you see that?” She folded her arms across her chest, parroting me from a moment before. “Does my face look like I give a flying fudge?”
My lips twitched.
Donny was right. She was cute.
My ma’s voice rang out as she came bustling over. “Are you okay, Maeve, love?”
Maeve gaze remained glued to my face and softened. “I am now, Maureen, thanks.”
Ma looked forlornly at Maeve’s dress and shrugged off her long, pale blue silky shawl. “Here, love. Put this around your shoulders.” She made a fuss of wrapping the pretty garment around my bride, her gaze shifting to me. “You’re a good boy, Callum.”
“This is lovely, Maureen,” Maeve said sweetly. “The color’s so beautiful.”
Ma beamed.
I rested my hands on Maeve’s shoulders. “Do you like it enough to get wed in it? I know it’s not exactly traditional, but then that’s not us, is it?”
Ma let out a little sob.
Maeve gazed up at me wondrously. “I thought you wanted to call it off. When you told Father Michael to stop the wedding, I thought you’d changed your mind, and I couldn’t blame you.”
“It wasn’t that at all,” I assured her. “But I didn’t wanna say our vows while those assholes sat there all smug, and you were upset. Plus, it seemed wrong with Orla and those girls watching, especially after what they did. Let’s make a deal. Everything we do from now on, we do by our own rules, okay?”
She blinked owlishly and murmured, “Sounds good to me, but I have to know. Are you sure about this? We can call it off, no hard feelings.”
Right then, in that moment, a realization washed over me.
In spite of all the doubts that had plagued me during the week, never once had I considered canceling the wedding. There was something inside me that needed to protect this girl, a feeling that had taken me over since the moment I’d picked her up from the hallway floor in Patrick’s house.
God only knew what I was thinking. I’d obviously lost my mind.
I didn’t know what I was doing, what the future held, or even if we’d still be together in a year, but what I did know was that taking Maeve Monroe away from this life was the right thing to do. If the only way to do that was by marrying her, then so be it. Plus, I could save my bar in the process.
It was a no-brainer.
“I’m up for it if you are,” I announced.
She laughed, the sound like a little tinkling bell. “I’m up for it too.”
I grinned because, against all odds, my idiot brothers had been right when they told me my nerdy little wife was cute. She was a fucking trip.
My hand reached for hers, and together, we turned toward the priest. “We’re ready now, Father,” Maeve said sweetly, squeezing my fingers.
A cough sounded from somewhere behind me, and I peered over my shoulder to see Patrick standing there with Laim.
“Hurry, Father Michael,” he clipped out. “Callum and I need some time to have a little chat before he leaves for Wyoming.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “Don’t we now?”
A cold shiver simultaneously trickled down my spine, and I turned back to face the priest.
Well, fuck.
Then, for the second time that day, Father Michael looked Maeve and me in the eye and began the service.
“Dearly beloved...”