Chapter 18
Gwen waited in the pub’s kitchen, wringing her hands and pacing. Keefe had tried to get her to sit, to stay still, but she needed to move. So, he stood back and let her.
It was Monday—the place was closed. Work on the flat would start next week. So, no spectators there. Ginny was out for the afternoon, and Sophie was busy being a newlywed, so there was no risk of being interrupted. Nothing to worry about there.
Not that this meeting was a secret.
Okay… it so was a secret. A big one, actually. They weren’t sure how the family would take it, so they had decided—together—to keep it quiet for now. If it went well, they would tell everyone. Baby steps. For both the family’s sake and for Gwen’s.
Then they heard the front door open and close.
Keefe glanced through the small window in the kitchen door and saw Shamus step inside and take a seat at the bar. The two men made eye contact, and Keefe gave him a small, encouraging nod.
“Shamus is here.” He turned to Gwen with a reassuring smile. “Are you ready to meet your uncle?”
Her eyes got huge. “No. I mean—yes. I mean…” She shook her head and let out a shaky laugh. “I’ve never been this nervous in my life.”
She reminded herself that Keefe was here. Keefe—the love of her life, the one who believed in her completely. Even if this meeting went terribly wrong and Shamus hated her guts, Keefe would still stand by her. That much she was sure of.
She was also sure that hiding in the kitchen wasn’t going to get her anywhere.
“Yes,” she said finally. “I’m ready.”
Gwen took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, stepped toward the door—and then promptly chickened out and turned away.
“Keefe, what if he doesn’t like me? What if he doesn’t trust me? What if he only came to yell at me and say how awful I am? I know I deserve it, but?—”
“You do not deserve that,” Keefe said gently but firmly.
He wanted to promise that Shamus would love her—but he couldn’t.
Not honestly. He didn’t know how this was going to go any more than she did.
Still, he placed his hands on her shoulders and gave them a reassuring rub, then pulled her into a warm hug and she melted into him like always.
“He wouldn’t do that to you,” he murmured.
“Shamus is a kind soul. I think he’s going to love you. ”
“You really, really do?”
“I really, really do.”
He kissed her—slow and loving, just long enough for her to let out a breathy sigh.
“You said you always wanted a family,” he said softly. “Now you have an uncle, and he’s sitting out there waiting to meet you. Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
“Do you want me to go in with you?”
Gwen nodded, squeezing her hands together tight.
Keefe took them in his and kissed her fingers, then laced their fingers together. With one last steadying breath, he opened the door and led her through.
Shamus, who had been sitting at the bar, stood the moment he saw her. As she approached, and he got a proper look at her, his breath caught in his chest.
It was like seeing his wife again.
She was every bit the image of his Caireann. The same long auburn hair. That soft, thoughtful expression. Those wide, gentle, sea-green eyes.
Tears sprang to his eyes before he could stop them.
“Gwen?” His voice was rough, full of disbelief and something deeper—something broken and whole all at once. “Jesus, love. It’s so good to finally meet you.”
She stepped forward, unsure what to say, and offered her hand. “You too.”
He took it in both of his, holding on as if he might never get another chance.
She didn’t understand why the look on this stranger’s face—this man she’d never met before—could make her throat burn and her eyes sting. But there it was. His tears… for her.
Her.
Gwen McKenna, the girl nobody had ever really wanted. The one who spent holidays alone. Who lived with secrets and half-truths and silence. The girl who lied to find connection—and who was now making a man with the kindest face she’d ever seen weep.
“Would it be all right if I hug you?” Shamus asked.
She nodded, and he pulled her into his arms without hesitation. Tears fell freely from them both.
“I’m so happy you found us,” he whispered. “Words can’t say how much. I’ve been looking for you, love. Did you know that?”
Gwen froze. “You… you were looking for me?” She couldn’t remember a time when anyone had come looking for her—certainly not like this. The tears returned in full force. “I’m so sorry for?—”
“No need for that, love.” He pulled back just enough to look at her face. “Keefe explained everything. You were brave to come here, not knowing us. That takes real heart. You must have been terrified.”
Gwen nodded, swallowing hard.
“But that’s all done now,” Shamus said. “Now, let’s just look forward, aye?”
She wiped at her eyes and met his gaze. “Okay.”
“Okay.” He hugged her again and gave her back a few gentle, bucking pats that somehow made her laugh through her tears.
“Keefe, my boy,” he called over her shoulder, “how about some drinks? I think our Gwen here could use one—and so could I. Maybe something to eat too. Happy moments like this make me bloody starving.”
Gwen let out a shaky laugh and nodded. “I could eat.”
“Now that’s what I like to hear.”
Keefe smiled and headed toward the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “I’ve got just the thing.”
They moved to a table near the window where the sunlight poured in, golden and warm. Shamus pulled out a chair for Gwen before taking his own.
He didn’t press her with questions. Didn’t push or pry. Just sat across from her with a calm presence and an easy kindness that helped settle her nerves.
There would be time for stories. No need to ambush her.
Keefe returned with a spread of warm bread, cold meats, tapenade, and sliced fruit. He set it all down in the center of the table and poured three small glasses of whiskey from behind the bar.
Shamus raised his glass in a toast. “To found family,” he said.
Gwen’s smile was watery but real. “To found family.”
The conversation moved gently, mostly between Keefe and Shamus, giving Gwen space to breathe. But even when she wasn’t talking, she felt included. Wanted. Safe.
Shamus watched her and Keefe together and couldn’t help the way his thoughts drifted. There was something between those two, something rare. Like Connor and Darcie. A silent language. The kind of connection you didn’t need to explain because it simply was.
He smiled to himself.
Nan was going to adore Gwen.
Once she saw them together, saw how Keefe looked at her, Nan would fall in love with Gwen too. There was no doubt in his mind that she would defend the girl like she was her own—and God help anyone who dared speak against her.
Shamus passed Gwen the breadbasket and said gently, “Take your time, love. We’ve got plenty of it.”
Later, after plates had been cleared and the second round of drinks poured, the conversation dipped into quieter territory.
The sunlight had shifted across the pub floor, casting long golden beams across the table.
Gwen, feeling steadier now, leaned back in her chair, sipping her whiskey while Shamus told a story about Caireann’s obsession with blackberry jam.
It was warm and lovely and strange—being wrapped in memories that weren’t hers, tied by blood to a woman she’d never met but somehow resembled so closely it brought a man to tears.
Then, without meaning to, she asked the question that had been sitting on her chest like a stone.
“Why did Cian keep me a secret from you?”
The smile faded from Shamus’s face. He set down his glass and folded his hands together on the table.
“Cian had his reasons for everything he did,” he said, voice lower now. “He wasn’t always... understandable. And he didn’t trust easily. Not even the people who loved him most. He had his shadows, love. And he lived in them.”
She nodded slowly.
“But I’m here now,” Shamus added gently. “And so are you. That’s what matters. We’ve got time to make up for.”
“Shamus—”
He held up a hand and smiled. “Please. Call me uncle. If you want to. Only if you’re comfortable, lass.”
Gwen’s lips trembled as she blinked rapidly, trying to keep the tears from falling again. “Okay… Uncle.” The word hit her so hard, it wiped out whatever she had meant to say next.
He reached across and gave her hand a squeeze, his eyes warm and kind. “So,” he said with a lighter tone, “looks like you and Keefe are getting on nicely?”
Gwen let out a small laugh. That was one way to put it.
From the back of the pub, a voice interrupted—sharp, clear, and unmistakably Nan.
“What he means is: you jumped into bed with my nephew under false pretenses—and now you expect us to what? Forgive and forget?”
Gwen stiffened, turning toward the sound. In front of the kitchen door, Nan stood with her arms crossed, her gaze cool but not cruel.
“Aunt—” Keefe started, but Gwen touched his arm.
“No. It’s all right, Keefe.” She stood, squaring her shoulders, her voice calm but strong—which was no easy feat. Nan was small but utterly terrifying. “She’s right. But not entirely.”
She turned to face Nan fully. “Yes, I lied about my name. I was scared. I didn’t know who I could trust. I came here looking for answers, not love.
And I never meant to fall for your nephew.
” She looked to Keefe now, her heart in her throat.
“But I did. I fell for him completely. And I didn’t sleep with him under false pretenses.
I knew who I was. And I knew that I loved him.
” Her voice faltered slightly. “With all my heart. And I couldn’t be more sorry for the way it happened. But I’m not sorry I found him.”
Nan’s lips pursed, and for a long moment, she said nothing.
Keefe stood beside Gwen now, his hand resting at the small of her back.
“Aunt Nan, we’re past that now,” he said gently but firmly. “Don’t be so hard on her.”
Nan let out a quiet breath through her nose. Her eyes lingered on Gwen, searching, measuring. But what she saw there made her soften.
She saw truth. She saw remorse. She saw a woman standing not just in love, but in ownership of her choices.
And she saw the way Keefe looked at Gwen, like he’d swim oceans for her. And how Gwen looked back at him the same way.
That warmed Nan’s heart, even if she wasn’t quite ready to say so.
“Well,” she said, her voice gruff. “You’ve got guts girl. I’ll give you that.”
Then she walked to the bar and poured herself a shot of whiskey. “You’d better be worth it.” Nan threw back the drink then gave Shamus a nod.
Gwen looked at Keefe, wide-eyed, and he grinned. “That’s her version of welcome to the family.”
Just as Gwen was about to sit back down, Shamus leaned closer and said softly, “If you’re ready… there’s someone else here who would like to meet you.”
She blinked, not sure how much more she could take. This had been an emotional rollercoaster if ever there was one.
“Your sister is here. She’s in the kitchen with her husband. They’re waiting for you.”
Gwen froze.
Her heart stuttered in her chest, then started racing. Her sister.
The word knocked the breath from her lungs.
Darcie.
Her throat tightened and her hands trembled. “She’s really here?”
Shamus nodded. “She’s here. And I think she’s just as nervous as you are.”
Gwen tried to keep her composure, but her eyes shimmered. She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Okay.”
A moment later, Nan opened the kitchen door.
And Gwen came face-to-face with a woman who looked like her.
Not just similar but a mirror of the same soul.
Darcie stepped through the door, her long hair a deeper, richer red than Gwen’s, but her eyes—those sea green eyes—were exactly the same. The same shape. The same color. The same startling shine.
For a moment, they just stared at each other.
Two women. Two strangers.
Two sisters.
And then Gwen let out a small, broken sound and covered her mouth with both hands as tears spilled freely down her cheeks.
Darcie’s eyes brimmed, but she smiled as she stepped forward.
“Hello,” she said. “I’m Darcie.”
Gwen nodded, unable to speak. Her voice had simply disappeared.
Darcie reached out and took her hands, holding them gently, grounding her.
“I think I’ve been waiting for you my whole life,” Darcie whispered.
Gwen choked out a sob and nodded again. “Me too.”
The two of them stood in the middle of the pub, clutching each other’s hands as if afraid to let go, blinking through tears and barely breathing. It was as if the entire room had gone still to honor the moment, like the universe itself knew it was witnessing something sacred.
Keefe reached for Gwen’s back, just a soft, grounding touch. Shamus’s face was wet again, his smile uncontainable. Even Connor, who had come in behind Darcie, had wet eyes.
And then Nan, who had been watching quietly from behind the bar, walked over.
She didn’t smile. But her voice, when she spoke, was soft and reverant. “Gwen,” she said, “this family isn’t sustained through blood but through friendship.”
Gwen looked over at her, lips trembling.
Nan gave her a small, meaningful nod. “You’ve got plenty of both now. So don’t muck it up.”
That was as good a blessing as Gwen could’ve hoped for.
Darcie laughed through her tears, still holding Gwen’s hands. Gwen laughed too—wet and shaky but real.
And just like that, for the first time in her life, Gwen wasn’t alone.