Chapter 37
thirty-seven
JONATHAN
Jonathan’s family would never let him live down getting his ass handed to him by Mags, but Christ, had she been glorious while she’d done it.
He should not have doubted her. And he sure as hell shouldn’t have doubted her in front of an audience. Lesson learned. A huge lesson learned.
They were in a hired car on their way to Bunchrew, Mags’ hometown. It lay three miles west of Inverness on the Beauly Firth. The area possessed a distinct appeal; during the infrequent family gatherings he attended there, he developed a genuine appreciation for the countryside.
Funnily enough, it reminded him of some of the small towns surrounding his father’s hometown of Tulsa, Oklahoma, in the United States.
Everyone knew everyone and their business.
He smiled, thinking about some of the stories he’d heard about Mags as a child.
She’d been a hellion for the poor teachers of Bunchrew, including her mother.
When they landed, a text from Aileen had come through. The family decided to have an evening at MacGregor’s house. According to Mags’ mother, the family had insisted.
It looked like Mags’ earlier revelation calls had impacted their plans upon landing. Mags was quiet on the drive to her parents’. They were going there first to drop their bags and for her to reconnect with her parents after so many months apart.
Aileen was nervous about meeting the family. They all believed that the big news of the evening was Mags bringing a boyfriend home, but really, it was about Aileen not telling them about her cancer.
She was nervous, but Aileen swore she was glad not to wait another night to tell them. Jonathan clasped one of Mags’ hands and pulled it into his lap.
“Had I not gotten butthurt about you waiting to tell your family about us, your mom wouldn’t be rushed into a confession. I’m sorry, Mags. Truly.”
She pulled her gaze from the window, less than a minute from her parents’ home. She leaned into his side and kissed his jaw in a sweet kiss. He let his fingers feather over her cheek, humbled to have her by his side.
“I might be cross with you, Jon, for doubting me,” she said, a teasing smile tugging at her lips, “but you’ve already proven you know better now.”
He huffed a quiet breath but didn’t interrupt.
“As for tonight,” she continued, her tone softening, “I actually think Mom’s relieved. Nervous, yeah—but relieved. Honestly, all the secrecy probably made it worse for her.”
She shifted slightly toward him, more thoughtful now. “They only got in a couple of hours ago, and she admitted that putting it off had been weighing on her. The family didn’t understand what was going on, and that bothered her. So…this? Tonight? It’s probably exactly what she needed.”
Jonathan nodded, his expression easing. “Your family’s too close-knit to hold onto anger for long. If anyone grumbles, it’ll just be because they love her.”
“That’s what I think too.” She paused, just for a second, then pushed forward, her voice quieter but more deliberate. “Jon…I need you to believe something.”
His attention sharpened immediately.
“I didn’t keep us a secret because I was ashamed. Or unsure. Or anything like that—even for a moment.” Her gaze held his steadily. “You matter to me. And I don’t take this—us—for granted. Not even a little.”
The words hit him harder than he expected. After everything—after the doubt, the second-guessing—this was what undid him. He blinked, jaw tightening slightly as emotion crept up on him.
“Christ,” he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair. “My questioning you…that wasn’t really about you.” He looked back at her, honesty laid bare. “That was me questioning myself.”
She didn’t look away.
“I haven’t always been someone worth trusting,” he went on, voice lower now. “But I’m not screwing this up. Not with you.” His gaze held hers, steady and certain. “If I ever do something that makes you doubt me—even a little—I want you to tell me. Right away. I mean that. I’m in this. Fully.”
Her expression softened, something warm and sure settling in her eyes.
“And if I’m the one who messes up?” she asked quietly. “You’ll tell me too?”
“I will,” he said without hesitation.
From the moment the car dropped them at Charles and Aileen’s house, they had exactly twenty-two minutes to drop their bags, for Mags to hug and cry over her parents, and load back into Charles’ old Land Rover and head to MacGregor’s.
Jonathan cursed himself yet again for insisting that her family needed to know of his arrival. Surprise might have been the better option.
Charles met his eyes in the rearview mirror and grinned. Aileen looked at her husband and sighed dramatically. “Really, Charles. Do you have to find everything so damn amusing?”
“I can’t help it,” he shrugged before chuckling. “Coll and Thomas are going to be pissed at us—”
“Me,” Aileen interrupted. “They’ll be pissed at me. I was the one who didn’t want to tell anyone.”
“Oh, they’ll include me, my love.” Charles patted his wife’s leg to let her know he didn’t mind, and it was clear he really didn’t.
“Like I was saying, they’ll be pissed as bears woken from hibernation.
Cat and Jo will be hurt. That’s up to you to fix.
What’s got me tickled is that Mags and Jonathan have offered us a perfect diversion.
“If things get too heated because of your months of lying—”
“You’re pushing your luck, Charles.”
Mags snorted, quickly covering her nose and mouth before she interrupted her parents’ extremely amusing conversation.
Ignoring his wife, Charles continued. “When things look to be taking a turn for the worse, Jonathan, here,” he pointed his thumb over his shoulder in Jonathan’s direction, “will kiss Margaret and voila, we’ll be forgotten.”
Mags did laugh then. “Brilliant, Dad, but I prefer Jon’s face blood-free.”
Charles’ fist hadn’t even made contact with MacGregor’s front door before it was pulled open, and Catriona and Josephine were outside on the wraparound porch, pulling Aileen into a group hug.
The women were all smiles and laughter until they noticed Aileen’s headscarf. It was like witnessing a toy’s battery die. One moment animation, the next absolute stillness.
“Aileen,” Josephine whispered. Gray’s mother reached out and rubbed Aileen’s scarf between her fingers. “I don’t understand.”
A single tear rolled down Catriona’s cheek. “Oh, Aileen. Why didn’t you tell us?”
“Let’s go inside,” Aileen urged, “and I’ll explain.”
Emotions, of course, were running high, and it took Aileen half an hour to explain when she’d found out about the cancer, her treatments, and why she chose to leave her family in the dark.
The first thing Mags’ uncle Coll said was, “You fucking bastard,” to Charles. “You let my sister go through that alone. Without me.”
Charles had some sort of superpower. He never reacted to aggression like most people would, more Zen than a Buddhist monk.
“She was never alone, Coll. Ever. I’m sure you would rather hug your sister and tell her you love her instead of cussing me out,” Charles said evenly.
Coll actually flinched before rushing his sister and wrapping her in a giant hug, clutching her to his chest and sniffling in her hair. Aileen, for her part, hugged him just as tight, patting his back like a parent would a child’s.
When he finally set her back on her feet, Thomas took his place and received a similar treatment. The women were next, while Aileen explained the last few months, the doctors, the treatments, and finally told them that she was cancer-free.
At one point, Aileen explained that “Charles didn’t have a choice to know and to worry, but I did have a choice to keep that from you. Had things not gone my way, I would have told you.”
“That wasn’t your call to make,” Coll said stubbornly.
“Actually, it was, brother,” Aileen said serenely, quite used to her sibling.
MacGregor stood next to his best friend, frowning. “Coll, you’ll need to put trackers in everything Aileen owns, car, phone, tablet—maybe even herself. If we can’t trust her to tell us things, we’ll find them out on our own,” he added stubbornly.
When Aileen gasped in outrage, Mags stifled a giggle.
“Charles,” Aileen demanded, “Tell these overgrown baboons that they have no right to track me.” To which her husband only shrugged.
“For the love of God,” Aileen threw her hands up, “to think that I missed you two.”
Charles, as calm as ever, put his hands up in front of his chest. “I love you, which was why I went along with your wishes, but I did warn you that there would be consequences.” He then pointed one finger at Coll and one at Thomas and said, “Meet your consequences.”
After a few more minutes, Jonathan and Mags poured themselves drinks and sat at the large kitchen table with Lochlann and Laith, both young boys had managed to stare at him with looks of distrust while still watching their parents’ reunion with Charles and Aileen.
Mirren, Mags’ sister, wouldn’t be there until the morning.
After half an hour, Coll and Thomas stepped away from the women and made eye contact with Jonathan. He prayed his face remained impassive—Coll Barr and Thomas MacGregor were intense sonofabitches.
Without breaking the stare-off, MacGregor asked Margaret, “How long have you and O’Faolain dated?”
Unperturbed by the accusatory tone, she grinned and linked her hand with the hand Jonathan had resting on the tabletop. “Not long. We’re very serious, however.”
Jonathan barely swallowed his groan. She was baiting them.
“Gray and Blair never told their mothers,” Coll growled.
“I asked them not to. Surprise!”
Christ Almighty.
“Patrick didn’t call us,” Coll continued, his frown growing deeper if that was possible.
“We only just shared the news, and Dad knew I was joining Mags this weekend. I’m sure he thought, as two adults, Mags and I could handle sharing the news on our own.” Jonathan let a hint of his irritation sound in his reply. He wasn’t some pimply teenager for crying out loud.
Attempting to divert the interrogation, he glanced at Lochlann and Laith. “Ciar asked if you two were still coming to stay in Dublin over the Christmas holiday this year.” Before the boys could answer, he added, “He also wanted you to know, Lochlann, that Gray was looking forward to it.”
Jonathan had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. Neither boy looked thrilled to spend some of their holiday in a home with two small children, but at the mention of Loch’s big sister, it was clear the boy would give in, which meant his best friend would as well.
Sighing in defeat, Lochlann crossed his arms over his chest in irritation, not unlike his father, but said, “We are.”
“Where do you plan on sleeping for the next two nights? Coll and I have space for you.” Clearly, there was no sidetracking the men in Mags’ family.
Mags didn’t let him answer. “Thank you for the offer, but Jon and I sleep together.”
Fuck my life. Did Mags want him to get his ass beaten?
“Charles,” MacGregor barked, “surely you don’t mean to let your young daughter sleep in the same bed with a man. In your house.”
Before her dad could intervene, Mags shot back with “Gray is less than a year older than me and has two children. I hardly think you’re in a position to cast disparagements. Also, you aren’t my father. My father doesn’t mind.”
“Oh shit,” Josephine muttered.
“Mirren is my daughter as much as she’s Charles’, which means you’re partly mine too.” The big man swung his head to Charles. “Isn’t that right?”
Charles, always the peacemaker, said, “You are Mirren’s father as much as I am, of course, Thomas, and Margaret has always been fortunate to have you as well.
And Mags, I do mind. Very much. However, once we’re home, if both of you can convince me that this is permanent, for both of you, then you’ll have my blessing. ”
Everyone remained silent for a moment. Charles may not bark or bite, but he wasn’t a pushover either.
Clearly, the evenings gauntlet wasn’t over yet.
Mags looked startled by her father’s decree, saying quietly, “Of course, Dad.”
Somewhat mollified, Thomas lifted his brows in an “I told you so” move to which Jonathan had to squelch any hint of amusement, well used to close-knit families and their antics.
Charles cleared his throat and gave him and Mags an amused smile before announcing, “I forgot to mention that I met with a Netflix representative a few weeks ago. It seems they are interested in turning my historicals into a miniseries.
“I have to fly back in a few months when I finish the second book to meet with them again.”
And just like that, mine and Mags’ sleeping arrangements, as well as Aileen’s cancer subterfuge, were forgotten amidst the shouts, screams, and congratulations.
Charles Morrow was a smart sonofabitch. He’d been saving that nugget for just the right moment.
An hour later, they were bundled into the back of Charles’ Land Rover. Jonathan couldn’t help tugging on the neck of his shirt, wondering what “convincing” Charles might entail and disappointed that the one man capable of shredding tension wouldn’t be coming to his rescue again.