Chapter 52
fifty-two
THOMAS MACGREGOR
It was a hard thing for a man to watch his daughter grow up and marry, for them to trust another man besides their father—and this was his second time. Mirren, his oldest child, had been happily married for several years with a son of her own, and now Gray.
Gray was the mirror of her mother in appearance and her drive in work, but she’d always been just that little bit more reserved than her friends. She preferred to weather storms alone.
Like him.
He’d been crushed and trying desperately to hide it for months as he watched Gray’s smile become forced, and the spark that was his daughter, diminish.
She’d been hurting, and neither he nor Josephine could help her.
He’d been satisfied knowing she could move home, that she’d known he’d wanted her to move home, and finally she had even though she was sad about it.
He’d almost given up hope on the Murphy boy. Josephine told him that Ciar was a loving father to his daughter and that she still hoped he would make things right with Gray.
And he had. Ciar Murphy had pulled himself apart and bled out his most hurtful wounds in front of them to prove his love for Gray. Thomas didn’t believe he could respect another man more.
It had been a sacrifice, and one Thomas would never take for granted.
He was standing in Dublin’s grand City Hall next to Josephine and their son, and Ciaran and Cormac Murphy, watching Gray and Ciar exchange vows.
Mirren and her husband, Finn, and their son were in the United States for a science competition that his grandson was competing in, and couldn’t make it home in time.
Gray and Ciar decided they only wanted immediate family. No friends and no fuss.
The couple would celebrate with their large family and friend group after their son was born. Bébhinn O’Faolain—damn, but he missed her father, Hugh—and her mother, Rowan, were trying to talk Gray and Ciar into doing a double reception after Bébhinn and Dagr Griffiths’ wedding.
If he had to wager, the Byrne sisters, Raven, River, and Rowan, who were best friends with his own wife, would get their way.
He was happy to do anything that pleased the O’Faolains.
That family still suffered from the loss of their patriarch, and if his daughter was happy with the arrangement, he was happy.
When the Registrar pronounced the couple wed, Thomas felt his eyes burn with unshed tears. Ciar gave Gray a soft, thankfully short kiss before the newlyweds turned to look at their family with wide grins.
Josephine’s hand tightened in his grip and grinned at him, tears flowing freely from her beautiful gray eyes. Thomas remembered knowing that he was the luckiest man alive when she tied herself to him. He still felt that way.
He stepped forward and shook Ciar’s hand and slapped him on the back before drawing Gray into a tight hug, kissing her head, and gently swiping away one of her happy tears.
“I’m married, Dad,” she sighed.
“So I see,” he replied gruffly, glancing at her husband before returning his focus. “You couldn’t have chosen better.”
Before she could pull out of his arms to hug her mother and brother, he added, “It’s hard to let you go.”
Gray gave him a strange look. “Why would you ever let me go, Dad? I never plan on letting you go.”
The women in his life never ceased to surprise him. He could only nod at Gray’s announcement as she was pulled into her mother’s arms.
Family was a wonder. It was tears and laughter, heartbreak and healing, and everything in between.