All Our Luck: Complete Irish Reverse Harem Series

by Roxanne Riley

  “Del, come on, we’re grown-ass adults,” Seamus complains, but his whining stops when he sees the blazing expression on the pregnant woman’s face.

  Timidly, he puts his hand in. I snicker and throw mine in as well, and I’m quickly joined by my brothers. We know better than to fuck with a sleepy pregnant woman, after our older sister got pregnant the first time.

  The tip of Noah’s pinkie toe never really did grow back right.

  Once everyone’s put their hands in, Delia frowns.

  “I… I don’t know what to chant,” she admits.

  “Go team?” Lucy offers through a yawn.

  “Go team!” the rest of us crow half-heartedly, throwing our hands in the air.

  “You know,” Gina musters, “We never did come up with a name for this place.”

  I look at her.

  “Did you have something in mind?”

  She nods.

  “The Phoenix Ranch. Because we’re going to rise from the ashes and become something even better.”

  The Phoenix.

  Rising from the ashes.

  I like it.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gina

  I doze off sandwiched in the backseat between Noah and Neil on the drive home. It’s silent in the car, between everyone’s exhaustion and the weight of everything that’s happened.

  Part of me is blissfully happy as I embark on a new relationship, but right on its heels was this fire, so I’m looking forward to some blissful, black-out sleep to help calm the tumultuous hurricane of emotions I’ve been enduring over the last two days.

  The Byrne brothers clearly feel the same way when we pull in front of my house. I exchange brief, downright chaste kisses with each of them before bidding them good night...morning...whatever, and they drive off.

  But as I drag my carcass towards my front door, the sight that greets me is the straw that breaks me. My younger sister, Veronica, is sitting on my porch swing. The bush in front of it that conceals my porch a bit had shielded her from my view while when I’d pulled up, or I might have asked the Byrnes to come with me.

  “Gina,” Veronica gets to her feet and steps toward me, opening her arms like she’s going for a hug.

  I hold up my hands.

  “Whoa. Nope. Not doing this.”

  “Gina, please, look, I swear, it was a one-time thing, I never meant to-”

  I snake a hand out and clap it over my little sister’s mouth.

  “Roni,” I tell her firmly, “I will let you tell your story, we will deal with all the bullshit, and you can tell me all about how Lionel’s miserable and getting fat and bald without me, but I am not talking to you or anyone else until I get some fucking sleep.”

  She blinks wide blue eyes at me and slowly nods. Her expression is a little bit terrified. And without another word, I trudge into my house and the next thing I know, I’m waking up with my face jammed into a pillow.

  My shoes are still on my feet, along with the hoodie I’d thrown on in my rush to leave the house. Apparently I just face-planted directly into the bed and passed out that way. And when I struggle to sit up, I call my past self a few creative insults for not having just gotten into bed like a normal human being.

  My back creaks in protest as I get to my feet and I’m so stiff from the awkward position that it feels like every inch of me is creaky and needs oiling.

  Geez, how long was I out? I wonder.

  My memory is hazy from the car ride onward. I squint at my bedside clock. It’s already eleven a.m.

  I groan and I’m about to hop in the shower when it hits me.

  Fuck. My sister is here.

  I settle instead for raking a comb through the mop on my head and tugging it back into a messy bun, and scrubbing a washcloth over my face to remove any lingering remnants of dried drool.

  A glance in the mirror shows that I look at least mostly human, so with that, I make my way downstairs. Veronica is curled on my couch, reading a book. It tugs at my heartstrings to see her, looking so normal. I may not have missed Lionel, but I have missed Veronica. Her betrayal had hurt far worse than my husband’s.

  We’d been close, growing up, even though we were a few years apart. Though we had drifted a little after I’d gotten married. Veronica had still been in high school, and she’d fallen in with a bad crowd. She’d started drinking and partying, and I’d been too busy settling into life as a housewife to save her from drowning.

  She notices me watching her and jumps up, tossing the book aside.

  “Hey, are you ok? You were kind of doing a whole scary zombie thing when you got here and I’m not sure how coherent you were. You tried to tell me something, but you were mumbling and about the only words I caught were “bullshit,” “bald,” and “sleep,” so I just kind of let you do your thing.”

  “I had a very, very long night,” I say with a sigh, “What are you doing here?”

  Veronica’s blue eyes fill with tears. “Gina, I’m here to say I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything I did, I never meant to hurt you.”

  Veronica explains that Lionel had been flirting with her behind my back since before we’d even been married, which turns my stomach. She’d brushed it off as harmless for years, until one day, a few months before the incident, she said he had started texting her.

  At first, it was nothing, just normal conversation. But then his flirty nature came through and he had started becoming more aggressive with her, telling her how beautiful she was and that our marriage was nothing but a piece of paper to please our parents. Apparently he had claimed to her that both of us slept around all the time.

  She’d been shocked, but his flattery had won her over, and she’d given in. Just the once. It just so happened to be the “once” when I walked in.

  “Mom and Dad always wanted me to be more like you, so…” she looks down at her hands, “I guess I just decided to try to be you, to step into your life.”

  I feel a pang of sympathy. The young woman I’m looking at right now is the same age I was when I’d left my husband. She’d only been eighteen back then. And considering I’d married the fucker, I can’t say I’d made better decisions when I was a young adult.

  What Veronica had done wasn’t ok, but she was human. How could I fault her for a mistake I might have made, myself, in her shoes? She was just a kid, being flattered and promised the world by a wealthy, good-looking guy, and she’d caved.

  And the person in front of me now is not the wild girl I’d left behind. That much is clear. Long gone is her bleach-blonde hair and her miniskirts that I think were originally sold as headbands. And the sharp angles in her face that had begun to appear when the little white lines did have smoothed back out.

  “Why are you only reaching out now?” I ask, curious.

  She looks at me with an expression that reflects back years of frustration and sadness.

  “I’ve been trying to! But you changed your name and moved to bum-fuck-nowhere. I didn’t know where to find out, I couldn’t find a phone number, an address, anything. And how would I have known to look for you under Grandma’s last name?”

  She had a point. I had kind of disappeared into the tiny little town, and when my parents had called me, trying to get me to go back to Lionel, I had decided that I wanted nothing to do with their name.

  “Mom and Dad said they couldn’t reach you either, but then last week Dad admitted that they had all of your contact info,” she explains, “I tried to call, but I guess the only number they had was for your shop and every time I’ve called, you’ve been closed, so I just…” she shrugs and gestures around herself, “I just came down here. But all of that’s beside the point.”

  She picks at her cuticle nervously, staring back down at her hands.

  “Look, all of this, the whole story, I know it explains what happened, but I also know it doesn’t excuse it,” Veronica said. “For a long time, I blamed everyone and everything but myself. I blamed the drugs, I blamed Lionel for manipulating me, I
blamed Mom and Dad for putting too much pressure on me, I even blamed you for pushing me away. I made up excuses, but deep down, I know that I made the mistakes I made. I made those choices. And I will bear the consequences for the rest of my life.”

  She swallows, hard, and looks into my eyes.

  “I don’t expect it, and I know I don’t deserve it, but do you think you’ll ever be able to forgive me?”

  I realize that I already had forgiven her. Somewhere along the line these past few years, I’d stopped being angry at Veronica. I’d still been hurt for some time, but that wound has been healed.

  “Yeah. I forgive you, Squirt.” I say quietly, opening my arms to her.

  She throws herself at me, hugging me tight, and sobs into my shoulder. Tears trickle down my face, and it feels like a missing piece from my life is finally in place where it should be. I have my sister back.

  We stay like that for a long time before she finally pulls back and wipes at her swollen eyes.

  “I’ve missed you so much, Gina,” she says.

  “I’ve missed you, too,” I admit.

  I lead her over to the couch and the two of us sit.

  “So,” she starts, hiccuping and reaching for a tissue from the box on my end table, “I noticed you got dropped off this morning by a whole bunch of hotties. Who are they?” The sparkle in her eyes is infectious.

  I laugh.

  “Sorry, sister, all four of those gorgeous pieces of man-candy are mine.”

  Her jaw drops.

  “Are you serious?”

  I nod, and for a moment, it feels like we’re teenagers again, giggling and telling secrets late into the night.

  “Is that why you were limping when you came down off the stairs?” she asks, sounding mildly horrified, “Wait, no, ew, I don’t think I want to know.”

  I slap her leg.

  “My foot was asleep, brat!” I laugh, “I’d say get your mind out of the gutter, but then the poor little thing would be homeless.”

  She flips me the bird in response and the two of us break into howls of laughter.

  “So, seriously,” she says when she’s calmed down, “You have four boyfriends?”

  I nod again.

  “I traded up.”

  “And then some!” she laughs, tucking her hair behind her ears.

  I notice a flash on her left hand and grab it.

  “And what is this?” I ask her, referencing the glittering diamond ring on her finger.

  Her cheeks turn pink and she grins from ear to ear.

  “You might remember him, actually; he was my lab partner freshman year of high school.”

  Now it’s my jaw’s turn to drop.

  “Wait. You don’t mean Dorky Doug?!”

  My sister’s ninth-grade biology partner had been sweet, but cursed with long, gangly limbs, braces, terrible acne, and a deviated septum that made his voice nasal and grating.

  “He’s not so dorky now,” Veronica says, pulling her cell phone from her back pocket and showing me her screen saver.

  She’s right, the man in the picture with her bears almost no resemblance to the picture in my head. He’s filled out, his face is all cleared up, and the braces were long gone, leaving a dazzling smile in their wake.

  The two of them look blissfully happy together, mugging for a selfie with their faces pressed together, and the dreamy smile on her face warms my heart. I reach out and touch her hand.

  “I’m happy for you,” I tell her seriously, “And I’m proud of you, it seems like you’re really getting your shit together.”

  She nods.

  “I’m trying,” she says, “Some days are harder than others. But I’ve been clean for three years now, and I met Doug six months after I got sober. He’s been my rock. And I went back to school, I’m graduating next semester.”

  My chest swells with pride. “That’s amazing! I’m so glad, Roni.”

  “Thanks,” she beams at me.

  “You know, I looked up your jewelry shop,” she says, “And I was wondering if you might do me a favor.”

  I tense, wondering what it could be. A pessimistic part of my brain wonders if maybe this favor is the real reason why she’s here.

  “I was looking at your designs, and I was wondering if you could make mine and Doug’s wedding rings,” she says, “The engagement ring was his great-grandmother’s, and I was hoping to find something that sort of goes with it and I know you could make me something amazing.”

  The waterworks start back up and I’m crying again, and so is Veronica.

  “Of course I will. I’d be honored,” I tell her.

  She sniffles and wipes at her teary face. “Anyway, enough sappy stuff. Tell me more about how this whole four boyfriends thing works.”

  And as we gossip and fill each other in on the last few years of our lives, we fall into step with each other like we never missed a beat.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Noah

  “All rise,” Judge Brown’s bailiff says, as he walks out from his chambers and takes his seat behind the podium. “Court is in session.”

  Once he is seated, the bailiff says, “You may be seated.”

  We sit back down in the gallery area of the courtroom. There’s a prosecutor at one of the tables up front, who will be presenting the case.

  “Well, well, well,” Judge Brown says, chuckling. “If it ain’t Little Miss Delia and Little Miss Lucy. Y’all have graced my courtroom quite a few times now. I see that this time is with regard to a criminal matter?”

  He looks down and checks his docket, and Delia clears her throat, as if unsure how to answer. I’m sure she’s wondering if the prosecutor should be doing all the talking.

  “Go ahead,” Judge Brown says, nodding at her, and motioning for her to come up to the witness stand. “This is obviously unorthodox, but, like I always like to stress, this is my courtroom and the good people of Texas have entrusted me to run it the way I see fit. And you’re always welcome to speak here when you’re in it. I know you’re good people.”

  Hearing this immediately sets me at ease.

  I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that he’s already on our side.

  “Yes, Your Honor,” Delia says, once she’s seated in the witness stand. “As you know, we’ve been here twice fighting for the right to build our ranch. Now that we have that right - thanks to Your Honor’s rulings, of course - we have been getting it ready for the public, and we found out that a competing ranch has been being built by the two defendants in this present case, Virgil and Earl Sanders.”

  “Objection, Your Honor!” shouts their lawyer, who is sitting at the table across from the prosecutor. The brothers are seated beside him. “This is only the arraignment stage of my clients’ criminal case. You haven't asked, but they plead not guilty. Even if this was the trial, none of this is relevant to the charges, and I also feel that you have clear bias and that it’s prejudicial of you to-”

  “Overruled,” says the judge, slamming down his gavel. “I decide whether I’m biased or prejudicial. And I’m not. I also decide what is relevant. Go ahead, Delia, continue your delightful story about how you’re building this ranch. I was all ears.”

  The Sanders’ lawyer rolls his eyes, and I choke back a chuckle, as Delia continues.

  “It actually is relevant to the charges, Your Honor,” Delia continues. “Because it shows motive for the crime.”

  “Very good,” the judge tells her, looking pleased. “I’m not sure the prosecutor is needed in this case. Just kidding, John-” he motions towards where the prosecutor is sitting- “but why waste taxpayer money when Miss Delia is doing such a fine job on her own? You should consider law school. If you weren’t so busy with the fine ranch you’re bringing to our town, of course.”

  Delia smiles.

  “Your Honor, Earl and Virgil are opening a competing dude ranch. That’s fine, but they seem intent on being the only dude ranch in town. So much so, that, as the evidence in this case will clearly
establish, they burnt ours down.”

  The judge raises his eyebrows at this and says, “Oh, no! There’s no more ranch?”

  “It will be okay,” she says, and the judge looks relieved. “But only because they didn’t do a good enough job at the intended task of arson.”

  “You boys look here!” Judge Brown says, staring the Sanders brothers right in the eyes. “I’ve heard about enough of this to be able to make up my mind here and now. This ain’t the first time ya’ll ne’er-do-wells have been in my courtroom and I’m getting tired of it. You’re entitled to a fair trial by a jury of your peers, which you already know since you’ve had plenty and since you’ve been convicted by them. I’d just like to offer you the chance to save some time and strike a deal. If Delia and her friends are fine with it, I offer you two years in jail, instead of the ten years this crime usually comes with, on the one condition that it’s at the prison in San Antonio, rather than the local jail. I want you out of here once and for all. You’ve caused enough mischief for the town and I don’t want your shoddy ranch competing against that of Miss Delia and her friends. It’ll only bring the town a bad name in Ireland, rather than a good name.”

  The Sanders brothers quickly confer with their lawyer, and those of us in the gallery confer together, although not much of a conference is needed on our end.

  “This is sweet!” we all agree. “Hope they go for it!”

  “John, this deal fine with you?” Judge Brown asks the prosecutor.

  “Sure,” he says, looking relieved - certainly this isn’t the first time he’s had to prosecute them. “Makes my job easier.”

  “You’re welcome,” Judge Brown says. “And make sure to thank Miss Delia here for pleading her case so well for you.”

  “Thank you, Miss Delia,” the prosecutor says, and Delia beams widely as she says, “You’re welcome, sir.”

  “Hold on a minute!” the Sanders’ lawyer says. “We haven’t accepted.”

  “Hurry up and get to it then,” the judge instructs him. “We ain’t got all day. There’s a KIND OF SANDWICH THAT HE LIKES waiting for me at NAME OF diner.”