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I might be crumbling to pieces on the inside, but I would do it with dignity, dammit.
“And that matters to you?” “She matters to me.”
“Jesus, you really love her, don’t you?” More than life.
“Paranoia.” Alec frowned. “Then what’s ‘perceptive’?” “Something you’ll never be accused of being again,” Podge laughed.
“Free sausage rolls?” I feigned excitement. “Well, why didn’t you say that earlier? I’m in.” His eyes widened in delight. “Really?” I rolled my eyes. “No, not really, you langer.”
“Who? Gibsie and Claire?” She nodded. “Aw, they danced together?”
“You’re honestly trying to tell me that those two aren’t in love?” “I never said they weren’t in love.” Chuckling, she added, “Only that they’re not together.”
“Are you going to look at me?” “Not right now.” “Why not?” “Because it hurts too much.” My heart constricted in my chest. “Baby.”
“You think I’m not hurting?” “I don’t know how you feel anymore.” “In love,” I bit out. “With you.”
Common sense or not, the big man certainly seemed to have his priorities in order, placing his curly-haired queen in a firm first-place position. While the rest of his friends had long since abandoned their girlfriends and dates, Gibsie hadn’t taken more than three steps away from Claire all night.
“Nicely done, baby.” Blowing out a frustrated breath, I clamped a hand on her hip and pulled her close. “You win this round.”
Because every part of me loved every part of her. The good, the bad, and the ugly. I fucking reveled in all of it.
“Now, tell me you love me.” “I love you.” The words flew off my tongue in record time. “Say it again.” “I love you.”
“Stop trying to protect me and start making me happy,” she countered, eyes locked on mine. “Because it’s time to pick your poison, Joey Lynch.”
“It’s you, Molloy.” He tipped my chin up, forcing me to look at him. “It’s you.” “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.” “It’s you,” he repeated gruffly, fingers tightening on my waist. “I pick you. Every single time.”
“I’ll love you the right way this time,” he whispered, and his breath fanned my cheek. “If you’ll show me how.”
“I’m not your mother or your sister. I’m not another girl who needs something from you. I’m the girl who wholeheartedly wants you. I’m the girl who wholeheartedly loves you. The hurler. The mechanic. The boy. The protector. The asshole. The lover. The addict.” Sniffling, I added, “All of your versions. All of your shapes and colors. I accept them all.
When she told me that she loved me, she meant it, and it was as unsettling as it was addictive, because if she only felt a fifth for me of what I felt for her, then I was one lucky son of a bitch.
“I did the best I could with your hair,” he added. “But I’ve never washed hair as long as yours before, so if I screwed up, don’t hold it against me.” My heart squeezed. “You washed my hair?”
Cupping my hands around my mouth, I called out, “Nice abs.” “Nice legs,” he called back with a wink, and just like that, I was ruined.
“We’re mirrors, Joe,” I told him, taking his hand and placing it on my cheek. “Everything you feel for me is reciprocated. It’s mirroring back at you.” “Molloy.”
“I won’t let your head go under.” “Promise?” I leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I promise.” “I love you.” “I love you back.”
“You’re really sticking around, aren’t ya?” “Afraid so.” I smiled in the darkness. “For the ring. The white dress. The white picket fence. The whole nine yards.” “Jesus.” He chuckled. “Don’t push it.” “I always push it, Joe.”
“When we get engaged—” “We’re not getting engaged.” “I want a ring the size of my fist.” He snorted. “Good luck with that.” “And when we get married—” “We’re not getting married.”
“Because you’re in mine, and I always get what I want.” “Yeah.” He squeezed my hand. “I know.”
“Because I’ve got serious wifey feelings for you.” “Jesus, baby.”
If this hotshot fucker had taken time out of his rigid schedule to drive her home, then my baby sister had made more than just waves at Tommen. She’d summoned a goddamn tsunami.
“Do it for your boss.” “No.” “Fine. Do it for your future father-in-law.” I gaped at him. He grinned back.
“Well, shit,” I mused, reluctantly smiling at the sight of my baby sister tucked under the arm of the rising star of Irish rugby. “Maybe he has notions.”
Being one of those asshole older brothers I never wanted to be, I heard myself warn her off, but not because I didn’t want her to find someone. I did.
“I’m sorry for being such a bitch to you.” “Meh. I’m an addict, you’re a bitch,” he mused, pulling me close. “No relationship is perfect.” I laughed. “It works, though, right?”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Kind of like you’re glowing.” That would be your baby.
“Don’t worry,” I teased, patting his chest. “The steroid-head look doesn’t appeal to me.” “No?” “Nope.” Grinning up at him, I added, “I’m more into the lean, mean, cocaine-snorting machine type.” He smirked. “Funny.”
“Joey.” Smiling proudly to himself, he added, “Shannon like the river, and Joey the hurler.”
“Be nice,” I scolded, slapping his shoulder. “I wouldn’t trade you for all the steak in Ireland.” I grinned. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
He didn’t answer me. Because he was too busy diving for the door. I smirked.
“Given a bit of time to get to know each other, I think we could be the best of friends.” “That will never happen,” I warned, glaring at him. “You’re a mad, posh bastard, with a personality that, quite frankly, unsettles the fuck out of me.”
“I think we could love each other.” I gaped at him. “You’re a freak.” “Oh, relax.” He chuckled. “I meant like brothers.”
“Who?” he asked. “Claire?” I nodded. “She’s my intended,” he came right out and said, without a hint of embarrassment. “The fuck?” “It’s true,” he urged, eyes wide and full of sincerity. “We’re betrothed.”
After spending a few minutes flicking through tracks, he settled on Bowling for Soup’s “Girl All the Bad Guys Want.” He gave me a cheeky wink and said, “This one’s for you, blondie.” Well, shit. I choked out a laugh. Little Alpha had moves.
He confirmed what I already knew, did my blood work, and gave me an estimated due date of September 20th.
“So will you, Molloy.” His arms tightened around my body, and even in his altered state of mind, he somehow managed to say the right thing. “Because I’ll look after the both of you.” My breath hitched. “You promise?” He nodded. “I promise.”
“I’ve loved your daughter for six years,” Joey finally broke his silence by saying. “I can easily love her for another eighteen.”
“What if he shouts at me, Joe?” “If he shouts at you, I’ll break his nose.” “Don’t break his nose,”
EDD of 20-09-2005.
LITERALLY MY EXACT BDAY LOL
“Can I keep one of these?” he asked, holding up the long strip of sonogram images.
“It’s your baby, Joe.” “Yeah.” Nodding to himself, he placed the sonogram in the picture slot in his wallet and smiled. “He is.”
“What did I tell ya about crying?” Sniffling, I forced a smile and whispered, “Hey, stud.” “Hey, queen.” His voice was raspy and torn. “Nice legs.”
You broke him, Marie. You have damaged Joey deeper with your words than his father ever has with his fists. You’re a gaslighting bitch!”
CLOCK IT QUEEN
I heard myself defend, refusing to back down to this emotional manipulation. This shit might float on his siblings, but not me.
