Orla
I laughed, the sound bubbling up as Tom appeared behind her, looking mildly put-out beneath a stack of suitcases.
“I haven’t bought it, Gwen,” I jested. “Just rented it for the weekend.”
“Details,” she said, waving me off with a grin, her eyes already darting skyward to the turrets and ivy-clad stone. “My best friend’s getting married in a castle, and I’m telling everyone about it.”
Before I could reply, another voice chimed in.
“Bloody hell, Orla, you weren’t kidding.”
Jordan’s tall frame filled the doorway after he’d helped Kate out of the car. She was glowing, her bump obvious beneath her long dress, and my throat tightened as I rushed to hug her.
“You made it, look how big you are,” I whispered, squeezing her hard.
“Wouldn’t miss it.” She smiled, leaning into me. “Although I’d like to formally request a chair every five minutes. I forgot how heavy his big-ass babies are.” She thumbed toward Jordan, who only laughed.
“Well, as long as you don’t go giving birth at the altar. We all know how dramatic you like to make an entrance,” Gwen smirked.
“Jesus, don’t remind me,” Jordan groaned, though he was still laughing.
Kate swatted him, smoothing her hand over her bump. “Excuse me, I didn’t exactly schedule Noah’s arrival. He had his own plans.”
“What’s the itinerary then, Reeds?” Tom cut in with a grin, shaking the creases from his jacket.
Before I could answer, Tyler came up behind me, his arm sliding around my waist, pulling me flush against him. His face was beaming, I could tell from having all our friends here.
“Well, we’ve booked out the pub down the road. Guinness on tap, Irish band, guitars, buffet, the works.”
“Now that,” Tom said, his grin widening, “sounds like my kind of Irish night.”
We didn’t want a massive wedding—no celebrity guest list for the sake of it—just a handful of players from our circle, close friends, and my big, rowdy Irish family.
Travis and Eve had flown in that morning with their baby daughter, along with Eddie and Sarah rounding out the little circle of people who mattered most.
But there was still the dark cloud lingering at the periphery. Tyler’s mother was due in that evening, and I’d be lying if I said my stomach wasn’t in knots about it. We hadn’t heard a word from her, didn’t even know if she’d made the flight. In a few hours, we’d know.
By the time we got to the pub, people were already filtering in.
One by one, familiar faces filled the back room we’d taken over, wrapping us in hugs, handshakes, cheek kisses.
There was music spilling from a fiddler in the corner, and the comforting scent of Guinness and pub food filled the air. It truly warmed my heart.
After doing the rounds of greetings, Tyler and I squeezed into a long wooden table with Kate, Jordan, Gwen, and Tom.
My teenage cousins had just ambushed Jordan for a photo, whispering like they’d met Harry Styles instead of a tennis player, and Kate was giggling like she wasn’t still just as obsessed with him herself.
“That will never not be funny,” Kate said, shaking her head as she watched them hover like he was some exotic species.
Jordan smirked, tugging her closer with that easy confidence of his. “Ah, don’t be jealous, Katie, you’re still my original little tennis groupie.”
He sealed it with a kiss so casually possessive Kate rolled her eyes but melted into him anyway.
Across from them, Gwen and Tom were tucked close, his arm draped along the back of her chair in that protective way that looked second nature.
Ten years married, army tours, Gwen’s constant travel, raising their little girl and Tom still looked at her like she was the only woman in the room.
With the streak of silver cutting through his dark hair and that lazy grin, he had the silver fox thing nailed.
Gwen caught me noticing and winked, like she knew exactly what I was thinking.
“Jesus Christ,” Tyler muttered beside me, shaking his head at Jordan and Kate. “You two need a warning label.”
“Don’t worry, mate,” Tom cut in dryly. “Give it another ten years and a couple of kids who don’t sleep, and you’ll be lucky if she lets you breathe the same air, let alone stick your tongue down her throat in public.”
Gwen elbowed him, but her lips twitched.
Tyler leant back, smirking. “Ten years on and you’re still sitting there, arm around her like you’re auditioning for some Hallmark movie. Don’t give me that tough act, you’re soft as hell, Tom.”
Tom arched a brow. “Soft? That’s rich coming from Malibu Barbie. You’re sitting in an Irish pub with a Guinness you haven’t touched because you’re too busy eye-fucking your wife across the table.”
The table erupted and I groaned, burying my face in my hands. “Oh my God, please don’t encourage him.”
Tyler laughed, lifting his pint toward Tom. “I’ll give you that. Didn’t think the army boys could keep up, but you’re holding your own.”
Tom tipped his glass back. “Don’t worry, Reed. I’ll give you a decade and a few sleepless nights, then we’ll see who’s soft.”
Tyler grinned, clinking his pint against his. “Deal. But just so you know, I don’t plan on losing.”
“Neither do I,” Tom shot back, and the two of them shared the kind of smirk only men convinced of their own invincibility could manage.
Jordan shook his head, laughing into his pint. “Christ. This wedding’s gonna end in an arm wrestle, isn’t it?”
“Not if I’ve got anything to do with it,” Kate said primly, though her smile twitched.
Gwen raised her glass, smirking at me. “Well, Tyler, congratulations. You’re officially marrying into the madhouse.”
That’s when I heard two loud Cali drawls cut through the banter. Tyler stiffened the second he clocked them.
“Well, here he is, the man of the hour. Poor bastard signing his life away,” one of them boomed, loud enough to earn side-eyes from half my cousins. Even Jordan’s jaw ticked.
Ryan and Luke. Tyler’s old friends from back home. The ones I suspected had something to do with why he and Jordan had walked out of that night early. Tyler had hesitated over inviting them, but me being me, I’d insisted. They were his childhood friends, it would have been wrong not to.
“Oh, and this must be the lucky lady.” Ryan’s grin was too wide as he stuck out a hand.
“Orla,” I said, forcing politeness as I shook it. Tyler’s other hand was wrapped tight around mine, tension coiled through him like piano wire.
“Heard we’ve got a free bar situation here?” Ryan went on. “I’m planning on taking full advantage.”
“Yeah, well, don’t go too hard, Ry. You need to make it to the actual wedding tomorrow,” Tyler said flatly.
Ryan grinned wider, like it was a dare.
The pub was alive with life, laughter bouncing off its low beams, fiddles striking up in the corner.
Tyler’s hand rested heavy on my thigh, a squeeze now and then to remind me why we were here.
Across from us, Jordan had Kate tucked into his side, his hand spread widely and protectively across her bump.
Gwen and Tom were all soft smiles, Travis and Eve juggling their baby like it was second nature to them now.
For a while, it felt exactly as I wanted.
I should have known it wouldn’t be long before the tone shifted.
Glasses clinked harder. Laughter turned sharper with less warmth than earlier.
Ryan had ordered more rounds than half the pub could stomach, and suddenly it felt less like a pre-wedding gathering and more like a frat party Tyler had spent years trying to leave behind.
Before I knew it, Ryan was shoving an arm around Tyler’s shoulders, almost knocking me off my chair.
“Hey, Ty, remember that night you got so wasted you ended up in Mexico?”
Tyler’s jaw flexed, his whole body tensing. “Not really, Ry.”
Ryan’s grin sharpened. “Nah, didn’t think so. But I bet you remember that model blowing you in the back room?”
The words cracked through the table like glass shattering. Tyler shoved Ryan’s arm off, his voice descending into a lethal octave.
“That’s enough. Don’t be fucking disrespectful in front my wife.”
Ryan only smirked. “Guess she doesn’t know about the string of girls you always had lined up back in Cali. Bet most of them would still be happy to oblige.”
Chairs scraped as Tyler shot to his feet, his chest heaving, face reddening with anger. Jordan was up instantly too, stepping in, his voice a calm growl.
“You want to rethink that sentence, mate?”
But I’d heard enough for myself. Enough of people trying to tear down the man I love.
“You’re clearly even more stupid than you look,” I snapped, my voice carrying clean across the table.
“Spouting that shit whilst you’re being stared down by a six-two Aussie, a rugby player built like a tank, and a fucking Marine?
Unless you’ve got a death wish, I’d shut your mouth and walk away. ”
The pub went still. Ryan blinked, his next words evading him. Even Luke shifted like he knew they’d gone too far.
That’s when Danny scraped his chair back, the sound sharp as a gunshot. He rose slowly, broad shoulders squared, voice like gravel.
“Leave him to me.”
Ryan’s smirk finally slipped. Before he could open his mouth again, Danny had him by the collar, hauling him clean off his feet and dragging him toward the door. Tom followed, steadily and I nodded at him, thanking him for making sure Danny didn’t do anything stupid.
I turned back and the sight of Tyler near broke me. Raw shame carved across his face, his jaw locked, eyes fixed anywhere but mine. He looked like every spotlight was on him, every old wound ripped open.
Kate was on her feet in a flash, Jordan steady at her back. She took us both gently by the arm and ushered us into the empty corridor by the bar. The barman gave an agreeing nod as we passed him.
“Take a moment, guys. Don’t let something that stupid ruin your night.” Her hand brushed my arm and she spoke kindly then she added with a grin, “And if I need to fake going into labor to distract them, I will.”
That tugged a reluctant smile from Tyler. Kate slipped back inside, leaving us in the quiet of the corridor.
I cupped his cheek gently. “Ty…you okay?”
His eyes finally met mine, the hurt evident. “I’m just so sick of it, O. People keep throwing my past in my face. In your face. Like I’m not already ashamed enough.”
I framed his face in both hands, made him see me. “You don’t need to be ashamed. Not with me. There’s a room full of people out there who love you. Who know exactly who you are now. And I know it most of all.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed, words choking back. Then his hands gripped my waist with intent, like holding on to me was all he had left.
“You’re it for me, O,” he whispered reverently. “Don’t ever let anyone make you doubt that.”
“I don’t,” I whispered back, brushing my lips against his. “Not when you look at me like this.”
I felt his desperation in the kiss that followed. Like he could rebuild, brick by brick, everything Ryan had tried to tear down.
I pulled back gently, I smoothed his shirt, steadying him. “Ready to go back out there?”
Tyler huffed, the shadow of a grin tugging his mouth. “Yeah. As long as you don’t leave my side.”
“Not a chance,” I said, threading my fingers through his.
And together, we stepped back into the noise and company stronger than ever.