Chapter 22
Sophie slammed the dishwasher shut. Or at least, she tried to. The damn thing bounced back open, smacking against her shin and instead of closing it properly she slammed it again. And again. Each time her shin suffered the consequences.
She clutched her leg, hopping in place as she let loose a long, loud string of colorful curses.
Keefe, who was still asleep seeing as it was only five thirty in the morning, heard her from down the hallway and came running, thinking something was wrong. When he found her kicking the dishwasher, he rolled his eyes. This foul mood of hers had gone on long enough. “You know Soph, if brains were dynamite, you wouldn’t have enough to blow your own head off.”
Sophie turned on him, temper flaring. “Don’t you start that shit with me, Keefe! I’m in no mood!”
She was already angry, so to avoid a brawl, he kept his voice steady—which wasn’t difficult considering he was half asleep. “That’s just it. You’ve been in a mood now for over a week. Now I find you stomping around at not even the ass crack of dawn and picking a fight with the dishwasher.”
She huffed and spun away, yanking a towel off the counter. Not because she actually needed a kitchen towel. She just needed something to do with her hands—because if she didn’t, she might slap her brother just for the hell of it. “Whatever.”
Keefe yawned wide and dragged his hand through his hair as he wobbled on his half-dead feet. This was going to be one long-ass morning. “So, are you going to tell me what’s wrong—and don’t use the empty waitress position as an excuse this time.”
“What makes you think anything is wrong?”
“I know you. I know you better than I know myself. You may be a morning person but this ain’t morning, sis. So, what is it?” Keefe leaned back against the counter and crossed his arms. “Something is wrong.” And he wasn’t moving from this spot until she told him.
Well, yeah duh! Of course, something was wrong!
But was it wrong, really ? Really, how wrong was it that the love of her life, after thirty-five years, still wanted to marry her? She thought back for a thoughtful moment to the day she and he got “married.” He was such a beautiful boy, always kind and thoughtful. And the man that boy had become was no different.
And… no. No and’s. This was insane.
But she couldn’t talk about it. She wasn’t ready. So, naturally, she made something up. Too bad what she’d come up with was about the lamest excuse ever. She stomped her foot and whined about the first thing that came to mind. “You ate all the cookies!”
Keefe blinked. “What?” Was that really the best she could come up with? Cookies? This was going to be one long ass morning. “I’m… sorry?
“Damn right you’re sorry!” Or if he wasn’t, he was about to be. Why she was taking this out on her brother, she didn’t know. But hey, sometimes that’s life. “You know how much I love those cookies!”
She threw the towel at him and missed by a mile. That wasn’t like her at all.
Keefe stared at her, unimpressed. “You’re mad over cookies? That’s your story? That’s really the hill you want to die on?”
“What? It’s a perfectly valid reason to be upset.” She propped her fists on her hips. She didn’t have a leg to stand on and she knew it but she wasn’t about to back down.
“Uh-huh.” Keefe grabbed a tin off the counter. “In that case, it’s a good thing I made you these to make up for it.”
Sophie frowned as he popped the lid, revealing rich chocolate chip cookie brownies with creamy peanut butter centers. She hesitated, then reached for one as if she were handling the Koh-i-Noor Diamond. She took one luxurious bite and a low groan of delight left her lips. “You should put these on the dessert menu.”
“You think so?” he asked, smirking.
She took another bite, her eyes rolling back. Each bite would put a pound on her hips, but it was so worth it. “Are you kidding? Who wouldn’t love one of these bad boys as a treat? They’re like an orgasm in every bite. Women from here to Derry would be beating down your door, for one.”
The teasing tone vanished as his expression turned more serious. “You know, speaking of things that are off—you haven’t been spending much time with Liam lately.”
Sophie shrugged off the question. “We’ve both been busy is all. In case you’ve forgotten we open in a week and tonight we’re having a party for fifty people.”
Keefe didn’t buy it. “Busy with the grand opening, sure. But it’s weird, Soph. You two have been inseparable since you got together, you’ve been happy, and now suddenly, you’re not. What’s going on?”
“Nothing!” She sucked the peanut butter from her fingers a little too aggressively.
“Is he coming to the party tonight?”
He just had to ask that question. Dammit. She wasn’t sure how to skirt around it but she was going to try. “No. I didn’t invite him.”
“What? Why not? This makes no sense.”
“He’s working on something and wouldn’t be able to come anyway, so I figured I’d save him the trouble of having to say no and feel bad for not coming. Besides, Liam and I can’t be in each other’s pockets all the time, okay? He’s got his own shit to do. It’s normal. People do have their own lives, you know!” Well, that had all come out with a little too much sarcasm. Even she didn’t believe herself. Sophie looked away across the room to the window that she so dearly wished she could jump out of right now.
His gaze sharpened. “Right. And snapping at me every time I ask a simple question? Is that normal too?”
Sophie’s jaw clenched. He was trying what little patience she had. “I don’t have time for this.”
Keefe held up his hands. “All right, all right. But something’s off, and you know it. For God’s sake, I wish you would just tell me what it is. Maybe I could help?”
Sophie grabbed another cookie and stormed away to her room, effectively ending the conversation.
Or so she thought. This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
* * *
Hours later, Keefe found himself stuck behind a herd of sheep, each one taking its sweet time crossing the road.
It was springtime—the kind of Irish spring that crept in slowly but beautifully, with wildflowers peeking up like they were just testing the air. The party was that evening, and Keefe had run out to meet with a potential new local supplier for the pub. Sophie had trusted him alone with the errand, but really, he was just glad for the excuse to get out into the countryside for a bit and enjoy the scenery.
The farmer had been good craic, full of advice and stories, and when Keefe looked at his watch and said he needed to get back to the pub quickly, the man had waved him off with a laugh and said, “Ah sure, take the shortcut—much faster than the main road.”
Shortcut, my ass.
As Keefe sat waiting in the car, letting the engine idle, he was forced to take a breath and actually look around. He had almost forgotten just how breathtaking it was out here. The mountains stretched out around him—massive, ancient, and wide open. Not a single house in sight, just endless landscape and the odd speck of a sheep in the distance. The road he was on wasn’t much wider than a dining table, barely enough room for his car. No truck on the planet could have made it up here. Winding and narrow and edged by barbed wire fences and boulders the size of cars, it wasn’t what anyone would call a main road.
He grinned despite himself. It was wild and rough and so bloody Irish—and he loved it.
The winter browns were giving way to patches of green, and here and there, wild flowers popped up along the edge of the road. Nothing fancy, just wild beauty.
He and Sophie had been so consumed with building O’Brians that they’d barely had time to enjoy being back. But this place—this stretch of wild nothingness with its stubborn sheep and sky so wide it could swallow you whole— this was home. Not Massachusetts. Not the suburbs or the polite little parks. Here.
That’s when he saw it—a ram, head fully stuck between the wires of the fence just off the road to his left. The thing was struggling, horns twisted in just the wrong way, its body jerking in frustration as the other sheep milled about, some already crossing the road like it was theirs—which of course, it was.
Keefe muttered a curse as he stepped out into the wind that nearly bent his car door. It was sharp up here, the kind of wind that cut through even his coat, and he had to tread carefully across the uneven ground littered with rocks and tufts of coarse grass.
The ram snorted and kicked as he approached. “Easy now,” Keefe said, squinting as he examined the situation. Barbed wire. Of course, it was barbed bloody wire. One wrong move and he’d slice his hand open. Still, the poor creature wasn’t getting out on its own, and he couldn’t leave it.
It took a few minutes, some careful maneuvering, and one particularly close call that snagged his sleeve, but eventually Keefe managed to angle the ram’s horns just right and guide its head free. The animal gave a grunt of gratitude—well, more like annoyance—but bolted off to rejoin its mates on the other side of the road.
Keefe straightened slowly, brushing dirt from his jeans and letting out a long exhale. He looked around again—really looked. There were no power lines. No distant houses. No sounds except the roaring wind and the low bleating of sheep. The view stretched on forever, soft mountain slopes rolling out like a painting come to life.
This place had a heartbeat. And for the first time since coming back, Keefe could feel his own syncing up with it.
It wasn’t until he climbed back into the car, grinning despite himself, that he realized just how long he’d been up there. The clock on the dash blinked at him. Shit was he late!
The “shortcut” had cost him time—and a clean jacket—but something about it made him not really care. The pub could wait. The guests could wait. His sister might kill him for it, but the mountains had given him something else entirely.
And if Sophie asked him why he was late? He’d just tell her the truth: “There was a ram. A fence. And the goddamn shortcut from hell.”
He sighed. At this rate, there was no way he would make it in time for the food delivery.
Meanwhile, Sophie—who had stormed out while he was still in the shower—was already at the pub.
He picked up his phone, surprised to see that he had service, and called to let her know he’d be late and to keep an eye out for the delivery.
“It’s here now,” she told him. “I’m handling it.”
His sister had always been very fastidious, so he knew she could handle the order. He just worried that with her altered state of my mind that she might miss something. But there was nothing to be done about that now. He would just have to let her handle it and trust that all would be well.
* * *
Keefe stood in the kitchen, arms crossed as he surveyed the newly delivered order. His stomach sank. “Sophie, I need you in here a minute!” Keefe called to his sister who was in the dining room setting the tables.
She came bustling into the kitchen. “What is it?”
“We might not have dinner for our guests. At least not on time.” He gestured to the meat delivery. “This is the wrong cut of meat. This takes hours to cook. I’ll have to get these roasts in right away now.”
She frowned. “Well, it’s not my fault. The guy must have left the wrong meat and then you called and distracted me.”
Keefe exhaled sharply. “Soph, this isn’t like you.” His concern deepened.
“Damn right it’s not like me. I know how picky and fussy you are about your groceries.”
At least she’d admitted her mistake and didn’t bite his head off. But now, he needed to know what was going on. They couldn’t go on like this. Not with their grand opening just around the corner. “All right, that’s it. What’s going on with you? You better just tell me now because you’re not leaving this kitchen until you do. And no more lame excuses either.” Keefe said it and he damn well meant it. He didn’t care if he started World War III. They were having this out here and now!
She swallowed hard, staring at the order she’d messed up—one mistake that could ruin their party. Keefe was right, of course. She was upset and distracted. She just hadn’t realized how much it had seeped into her work. And now, on the night they were supposed to be celebrating with friends and family, thanking them for their support, dinner might end up being nothing but sides. Keefe had put so much thought into this meal, and because of her negligence, it could all fall apart.
Keefe stood, waiting, expecting her to throw another tantrum. Then, suddenly, she blurted, “I found a ring in Liam’s drawer.”
Keefe’s eyes widened. He hadn’t seen that coming. No wonder she was distracted. “What? You mean an engagement ring?”
She nodded.
“Oh,” he said slowly. This explained everything. “And he proposed, and you said… no?”
She shook her head. “He hasn’t asked. He doesn’t know I saw it.”
“Do you want him to ask you?” Keefe wanted Liam to ask her!
“I don’t know.”
Keefe studied her. Until recently, she had been the happiest he had seen her in many years. “I think you do.”
She blinked at him. “You do?”
He smiled warmly at his sister. She wasn’t riled up because she was angry. She was conflicted and second-guessing herself. “Yeah, sis. I do.”
She bit her lip. Okay, so maybe he was right. “But what if?—”
“What if what? What if he doesn’t know you like the back of his hand? What if he sees the good the bad and the ugly and still loves you forever?” Keefe tilted his head. “Soph, Liam’s different. You know he is.”
She paused, as if she needed a moment to think—even though she’d done nothing but think all week. She had come to an answer, of course. She just hadn’t realized it until now. And Keefe, damn him, had gotten there in a matter of seconds. “And you don’t think it’s too fast?” Her mouth curled into a hesitant smile.
“Fast?” He let out a short laugh. “You’ve been waiting to marry Liam for thirty-five years.”
She blinked.
“You remember when I officiated your wedding, right? You were seven, he was eight, and you both said ‘I do’.”
Her lips twitched despite herself.
Keefe leaned against the counter. “Have you told Emma about this?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t want anyone else’s opinion. Only mine—and yours a little bit.” She pinched her thumb and four fingers together.
He chuckled and crossed the floor to give his sister a hug. “Well, you’re stuck with me forever. You and me sis, we run this place together, or not at all. So, we’d better like whoever the other is with. You don’t need it, but you have my blessing.” He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her close.
“Thank you. You big jerk. When did you get so smart?”
“Everyone knows, I’m the smart one.”
Sophie snorted. Sure he was.
With that weight now lifted off her shoulder, Sophie let out a long breath and headed back to the dining room to finish setting the tables.
“Wait,” Keefe called after her. “Aren’t you going to invite him to the party?”
Although she felt better, she still wasn’t ready to act. “I’ll think about it.”