Chapter 3
The weather couldn’t have been more perfect if it had been ordered in advance.
It was one of those rare, golden Irish spring days where the sky shimmered a clear, endless blue and the sunlight filtered softly through the budding trees.
A gentle breeze carried the perfume of lilies, roses, and fresh-cut grass from the garden that cradled them on all sides.
Birdsong drifted from the hedges and trees, a full symphony of chirps and trills echoing through the air like a blessing.
Bootstrap, Molly, and Bitsy had wisely claimed the shadiest patch beneath the blooming hydrangeas, sprawled out in regal laziness.
Every now and then, one would raise a sleepy head to greet a passing guest with a lazy tail thump or a grumbling grunt, as if they’d been appointed honorary wedding greeters.
Keefe stood tall beside Liam at the end of the aisle, his hands clasped in front of him, but his gaze was locked on the vision making her way toward them.
Sophie, radiant and serene, floated forward on the arm of their father.
She had chosen to wear white, damn tradition and what anyone might whisper.
This was her real beginning, the love story that should have been from the very start.
Her smile said it all—peace, joy, and absolute certainty. She glowed with it.
Liam, eyes glistening with unshed tears, reached out and shook Ronan’s hand. “I’ll never let you down,” he whispered, the words sticking in his throat.
Ronan nodded, gave his daughter a kiss on the cheek, and then stepped back.
Liam, unable to wait even one more breath, took Sophie’s hand—and then her waist—and spun her into his arms, dipping her back in a bold, movie-worthy kiss.
Laughter burst from her lips even as their mouths met, and when he pulled her upright, she was giggling like a teenager in love.
Their guests erupted in cheers and applause, a few hooting in appreciation.
“Impatient, are we?” the officiant teased with a wink, before clearing his throat and carrying on.
Once they’d composed themselves, barely, the ceremony began in earnest. Their vows were spoken softly but with the force of years behind them, of friendship and heartache and second chances.
Promises to love, to protect, to laugh with, to never give up.
And this time, they meant it in ways that only time and experience could teach.
Keefe had tried to keep it together, really he had.
But once he sat beside his mother, who was weeping unabashedly into a dainty embroidered tissue that she then crammed into her beaded clutch, he lost the battle.
The tears came fast and hot, dripping from his chin as he watched Liam’s ridiculous romantic stunt replay in his head.
“Jesus, Liam,” Keefe muttered under his breath with a choked laugh, brushing at his cheeks. “Couldn’t wait five bloody minutes?”
When the vows ended and Sophie and Liam were officially pronounced Mr. and Mrs. Liam Gallagher, Caitríona didn’t even wait for the music.
She barreled toward them like a woman on a mission, arms outstretched, and pulled both of them into a crushing hug that managed to be both graceful and completely chaotic.
Somehow, in her enthusiasm, she clunked their foreheads together.
“Mom!” Sophie laughed, rubbing her temple.
“Sorry, love. You two are just so bloody beautiful together.” Caitríona sniffed, not letting go.
Ronan joined in without hesitation, wrapping his long arms around the whole squirming mess of them. Keefe, seeing no sense in being left out, threw himself into the fray.
“We’re a joyous huddle now.”
It was Nan who broke them up—well, sort of.
“All right, all right, you’re suffocating the newlyweds! Give the poor girl some air before her hair gets flattened.”
She marched forward with all the authority of a woman who had seen enough weddings to know how quickly things could go off the rails. Really though, she just wanted her turn.
“You two feckin’ eejits,” she said, her voice breaking even as she grinned at Sophie and Liam. “You’ve made us wait this long? You have no idea how happy it makes me to see you married. Finally. Properly.”
Her lip trembled, and she swiped at her cheeks. “Oh, feck it,” she muttered, barreling in for her own hug. “Come here, the pair of you.”
To Nan, Sophie might as well have been her own daughter. She’d never said it outright—wouldn’t dare, for fear of hurting her nephews—but Sophie had always been her soft spot.
And now here she was, married to the lad she was always meant to be with, the sun shining down like a blessing, and the garden full of people who loved them.
It was, as weddings go, pretty damn perfect.
The garden had transformed from tranquil ceremony to joyful revelry.
Lanterns swayed in the trees like glowing blossoms, their soft amber light twinkling over guests sipping drinks and twirling to music beneath a sky that had darkened to a deep, velvety indigo.
The scent of flowers lingered in the air, now mingled with roasted lamb, whiskey, and the faintest whiff of the sea breeze drifting in from the cliffs.
Sophie and Liam were at the heart of it all.
She had changed into a tea-length lace dress—still white, still beautiful—her hair swept up and pinned with wildflowers from her aunt’s garden.
Liam hadn’t taken his eyes off her once.
They floated from guest to guest, arms entwined, laughing at old stories, stealing kisses whether someone was looking or not.
They danced to everything—from slow ballads to upbeat reels—and when the music switched to their first dance song--a surprise chosen by Sophie herself-- the crowd instinctively fell silent.
Liam laughed when the opening bars of “Can’t Help Falling in Love” began to play. “Elvis, huh?”
Sophie shrugged with a smile. “I wanted a classic.”
“You are a classic.”
And then they danced.
It wasn’t rehearsed or even that graceful, but it was them. He held her like she was everything, and she looked at him like he was home. Around them, their family and friends swayed along, many wiping tears or beaming like fools.
Keefe watched with a mixture of pride and wistful envy. He was happy—so happy—for his sister. But there was a quiet ache too. Not jealousy exactly, but a longing for something like that for himself.
Eventually, he sank down into a chair beside Simon, drink in hand, his tie now hanging undone.
Simon had his arm wrapped snugly around Sondra, who, as per usual, was deep into his personal space. She leaned in close, whispering sweet nothings that made Simon blush and grin.
Sondra, never one for discretion, let her hand wander up Simon’s thigh.
Keefe didn’t even blink. “Christ alive, could you two not find a closet or something?”
Sondra stuck out her tongue and nibbled Simon’s ear, making him groan like he’d been blessed by the gods before standing up. “I’m going to get another drink. You boys behave,” she sang, wobbling slightly as she made her way toward the bar.
Simon leaned toward Keefe. “Right, so, what’s chewing on you?”
“Nothing.”
“Sure, and I’m the Archbishop of Dublin.”
Keefe sighed. He looked back toward the dance floor where Sophie and Liam had joined hands with Caitríona and Ronan for a traditional circle dance.
Sophie was glowing, her flushed cheeks, eyes bright, the happiest he’d ever seen her.
She laughed at something Liam said, the sound like birdsong on a spring morning.
“They’re good together,” Keefe said softly. “Better than good. I don’t know why it took them so long, but it feels like everything’s finally right.”
Simon nodded, taking a sip of his pint. “It’s a damn good thing to see, isn’t it?”
Keefe gave a soft chuckle. “Yeah. It is. It really is.”
Simon raised an eyebrow. “So, what’s stopping you from finding that for yourself?”
Keefe gave him a look. “Are you kidding? Every girl I bring home, Sophie runs off within the first five minutes. The last one, she threw the girl’s purse out the front door and locked her out.”
Simon winced. “Yikes.”
“In Sophie’s defense, she was right. My taste in women is… questionable.”
They both looked up as Sophie passed, laughing with Aunt Nan, her hand still wrapped tightly in Liam’s. She looked over and winked at Keefe.
Simon nudged him. “You’re allowed to want that too, you know.”
Keefe said nothing. Instead, he sipped his whiskey and watched as Ginny tripped over her own feet trying to avoid stepping on Dermot’s for what had to be the fifth time. Her laugh echoed across the lawn.
“What about that one?” Simon asked, nodding toward her. “Ginny.”
“She’s sweet. But I don’t know if I think of her like that.”
“Maybe it’s time you tried. Before Tully gets brave enough to pounce. Look, he’s practically drooling.”
Keefe followed Simon’s gaze to the bar where Tully swayed, drink in hand, eyes locked on Ginny like a hawk eyeing a mouse.
With a resigned sigh, Keefe threw back the last of his whiskey, stood, and shed his jacket. “All right. I’m going in.”
Simon raised his glass. “Godspeed. Just don’t let her break your toes like poor Dermot’s.”
On the dance floor, Ginny had just apologized for another accidental stomp when Keefe stepped in. “Mind if I cut in?”
Dermot laughed with relief. What he really wanted to say was, “What took you so long?” Instead, he said, “She’s all yours.”
Keefe took Ginny’s hands and pulled her close enough for comfort, but not so close as to startle her. “So… I see you’ve met Dermot.”
“I did. He showed me a picture of his three kids and a sonogram of the fourth.”
“Fourth?” Keefe blinked. “They’re breeding like rabbits.”
“I think it’s lovely. I’ve always wanted a big family. A couple of kids, a dog, a cat, maybe some chickens.”
“Chickens?”
“Why not? Have you ever collected warm eggs in the morning?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Try it sometime. It’s oddly satisfying.”
Keefe smiled. Her warmth was infectious. Her laugh real. Her smiling brown eyes were more captivating than he’d remembered. “And what about the kids and the dog part?”
“I want it all,” she said. “Noise, love, chaos, the whole package.”
“Sounds overwhelming.”
She laughed. “You don’t want a family?”
“I do. Not sure about the chickens though. But… maybe I could be convinced.”
Nearby, Sondra returned to Simon’s lap with a flourish and a full drink. She glanced toward the dance floor. “Looks like it’s working.”
Simon grinned. “Matchmaking genius, that’s me.”
Before Sondra could haul Simon back to the floor, the music cut out and the MC’s voice rang out. “Ladies and gentlemen, our bride and groom are about to make their exit!”
Everyone gathered by the garden gate, sparklers lit and cheers rising. Sophie and Liam came down the path hand in hand, glowing, Sophie’s flower crown slightly askew and Liam looking at her like she held the stars.
Keefe was among the last to approach. He pulled Liam in for a hug. “You’ll take care of her. I know you will.”
“Every damn day,” Liam said.
Then Keefe turned to Sophie and hugged her tightly. “I’ll miss you, you big jerk,” she said.
“I’ll miss you too, pain in my ass. Bring me back something nice, will you?”
“I’ll bring something I can crack over your head.”
She laughed, her voice thick with tears. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
She just looked at him. “You know what for.”
As they drove off into the night, laughter and cheers chasing them, Keefe stood between Caitríona and Ronan. All three of them had tears in their eyes.
“You’re next, son,” Ronan said.
Keefe looked out into the glowing garden, where Ginny now stood dabbing her eyes as she waved goodbye to the happy couple.
“We’ll see, Dad,” he murmured. “We’ll see.”