“You told me you’d handle it,” Synclair whispered and I saw her ball her tiny hand into a fist. Even full-term pregnant, she was as deadly as she was gorgeous.
Reece look unconcerned, as did Lucas as he moved past me to sit next to Sara.
“I did, we did,” he told her, nodding towards Lucas and Matt. Matt was leaning against the sink smiling at the dark-haired woman seated next to Synclair. She only looked up once and then gave an unlady-like snort and turned her head away from his gaze. Undeterred, the ass-sack actually turned to me and gave me a thumbs up.
“I see no bruises, no sprains, no blood, no tears; this is the extent of you handling it?” Synclair’s voice was calm but I didn’t buy it for a second. If she even breathed in the direction of those knives in the drawer, I was running.
Running from a pregnant woman? Yes, hell yes, I will run, jump, or crawl if it saves me from the hands of Synclair Patrick. The woman has no boundaries and doesn’t fight fair. Also, she has an affinity to crack-shot aim when she racks a guy in the nuts and, while I may deserve a nut check, I was going to avoid one like a man on a mission.
“There aren’t any; you promised the doc that you would stay calm and not let yourself get upset or agitated,” Reece reminded her as he came around the table to grab her shoulder.
I braced myself for her reaction and gave a silent prayer for my brother as he stared deep into those hazel eyes of hers. To my absolute shock, Synclair sighed and wrapped her arms around Reece as she rested her head against his shoulder.
“I did, didn’t I,” Synclair stated, her voice light and cheerful.
I looked from Matt to Lucas to Sara, and then finally to Reece. I know I wasn’t the only one not buying Synclair’s calm reaction. Even Reece looked shocked by how quickly she had given up her plans to castrate me.
“Okay, I’m ready,” Camille announced, coming into the kitchen, keys and handbag in hand. I tried to catch her gaze, but she pointedly ignored me as she stared at Synclair over Reece’s shoulder.
“Ready? Ready for what?” Lucas asked as Sara rose from the table and planted a quick kiss on the top of his head. Rachel and the dark-haired girl stood too and began to move toward Camille.
“Girl’s night, silly. Since we didn’t get to throw Syn and Sara a bachlorette party, Camille’s offered to take us to a few pubs for some real Irish entertainment,” Rachel announced gleefully.
I think I can speak for all the Hudson men when I say, WHAT. THE. FUCK?
“Um, sweetheart, shouldn’t you rest? You had a very long flight,” Reece inquired in a tone that let me know he wasn’t really asking.
“Yeah, didn’t the doc tell you that you needed to get lots of rest because of the morning sickness?” Lucas asked Sara.
Pitiful, it was pitiful.
Sara and Synclair exchanged glances and I knew whatever argument my brothers were going to make wasn’t changing a damn thing.
“Alison, I was hoping we could talk, spend some time together,” Matt suddenly chimed in, finally giving a name to the girl he hadn’t even introduced us to yet.
The woman’s dark eyes narrowed as she gave Matt a smirk. It was a clear "fuck you", if ever I saw one.
“Hope is good, Matt, everyone should have hope,” she replied, effectively shooting down my brother with one shot.
She then turned and walked out of the kitchen, with Camille and Rachel close behind.
Synclair laughed. “I like her,” she told Sara.
“Yeah, me too. I think it’s time for cheesy fries and story time,” she replied, reminding us men that when Sara and Synclair were going to get the dirt on someone, cheesy fries were always involved. Synclair swore it was like a truth serum drug.
“Good bye, gentleman, and don’t worry, we’re just going to eat, sip tea, and have some girl talk,” Synclair told my brothers, who were standing there, faces pale, as they watched the women turn to leave.
I quickly glanced at Reece and Lucas in shock. Were they really going to let these women loose in Dublin? I mean, was it safe? And by safe, I mean for Dublin: what did the poor Irish ever do to deserve such a thing? My worst fears were realized when we all heard Synclair ask Sara, “Do you think they have Dairy Queen here?”
Instead of stopping them, we all stood there as sounds of Sara and Synclair’s devious laughter filled the air as they left the house.
Cami
I know what yer all thinkin’. Yer wonderin’ why I’m not screaming and crying all over meself. Well, the answer’s simple: While it felt like me heart had ceased to function when I overheard Dalton proclaiming, for all to hear, just how much he didn’t love me, just how sorry he’d felt for me, and - me favorite part - when he literally trembled in horror at the idea of being married to only one woman! Nope, that well-deserved emotional breakdown would include lots of ice cream and a crate of tissues, but that would all come later.
Right now, I was on a mission to go find Father Simmons and find out why the hell he would perform a ceremony for two drunk people at three in the bloody morning. Before you give me grief fer not tellin’ Dalton of our little issue, I want you to know I had fully intended to go to the barn and tell him we were married.
You see, after the men left to go murder their brother, I broke down sobbing like an imbecile and told the girls that not only had Dalton and I had sex, and apparently lots of sex judging by me sore vagina, but also I confessed that I thought I might be in love him and that we had accidently ended up married. Of course, me cousin was happy, and she had started rattling on about me moving to Carson City and all kinds of things like that.
It was Sara and Rachel that popped Synclair’s happy family balloon when they explained what I had already come up against, that Dalton was afraid of loving someone, afraid of commitment. Synclair, for some reason, thought that once I told Dalton of our nuptials, he would have to admit he was in love with me, too. Even Rachel thought that it might bring him round, although I think she was trying to get out of a good arse kickin’, seeing as that damn marriage petition wouldn’t have been in me pocket at all if she hadn’t interfered.
Once I was honest with meself, I realized I was in love with the man, whether he returned those feelings or not didn’t change how I felt. Bolstered by me new crew of women supporters, I had grabbed the lad a shirt and sweater and trudged out to the barn. I was hoping to get there before any fists were thrown, and I talked meself into believing that after the initial shock of everything, Dalton would realize we could be more than friends.
Yes, folks, I drank at the pitcher of the Disney fairytale and lost. I felt like all those sappy, happily-ever-after films were created by cruel Satan worshippers wanting to set up young girls for heartache and pain.
Of course, you all saw what happened when I found Dalton in the barn with his brothers. When I came back in the house and told the girls what had happened, they all agreed that we needed to get out of the house and head into town. While the last thing I wanted was to socialize with me well-meaning group, I had to find Father Simmons and get some answers. I swore all the women to secrecy, and even Matt’s date Alison promised not to mention Dalton and I’s marriage. I had to solve this before he found out; if Dalton had no feelings for me and had just helped me out of pity, then he would bust a lung if he found out he was married to a woman he liked as a friend but never wanted to love.
I pulled me car up in the lot behind the church and asked the girls to wait for me.
“I won’t be long, do not wander around; this side of Dublin is a litte rough and some people don’t like tourists,” I told Synclair. She gave a salute and a smirk and I turned and ran inside.
I found Father Simmons as he was walking into a confessional. He saw me and moved quickly to shut the door. Pissed that the man was actually ducking me, I stepped into the confessional side, where people came to ask the priest for absolution.
“Bless me, Father, for I am married!” I practically shouted through the wooden grate that separated us. While I cou
ldn’t see him, I could hear him breathing as I waited.
“Camille, my child, I expected you would be at home with your new husband,” his voice whispered at the confessional window.
I’d known this priest me whole life. In fact, he and me Ma had been school mates when they were young. As far as priests went, he was kind of a rebel, seeing as when he was in his forties he drove a Harley Davidson motorbike and, more recently, he entertained the Sunday School class with his rendtion of the Cup song.
“Me new husband doesn’t know he’s me husband because neither of us remember agreeing to take our vows!” I hissed, trying to remember that he was a man of God.
I heard a nervous chuckle. “Well, you two came stumbling in about half past two and the lad said he wanted to start fresh, he wanted a new life with his best friend as his wife, because who better to fall in love with than she? He went on to tell you that he was head-over-feet in love with ya, and that he wasn’t leavin’ Ireland without you marrying him, because that way you’d have to eventually join him in the States, since married people lived together. And he had proclaimed he was claiming a kiss you owed him and wouldn’t settle for less than you bein’ his wife when you did it!” He finished speaking and all I could do was wipe the tears that fell down me cheeks.
Dalton had said he loved me? He wanted me to move to the States to be with him? I shook me head; he was drunk and, if his encounter with Lara taught me anything, it was that Dalton would have married a watermelon if the notion had struck whilst drunk!
“So you agreed to marry us, knowing we were plastered?”
Father Simmons sighed. “Aw child, I could tell you both loved each other even if you didn’t, and when you pulled out the marriage petition and I saw that I was the priest you had commissioned to perform your union, I realized it was God’s plan,” he told me gently.
Thinking I should have burned that stupid marriage license when it arrived in the mail, I sighed and sat back on the wood bench.
“Oh, Father, I’ve made such a mess of everything. The last thing Dalton wants is marriage, he’s scared witless of commitment and marriage. I heard him tell his brothers today that he felt sorry for me and that he doesn’t love me,” I knew I was whining, but it felt good to let some of the sadness out.
“My dear child, you are married in the eyes of God, and he makes no mistakes. You must give him time, he will come round. You’ll see,” he offered as I shook me head.
I didn’t want to give Dalton time. I had grown and changed so much these past weeks, why hadn’t he? I felt like it was Sean all over again, where everyone told me to give him time, he’d come to his senses, he’ll leave Tara and come running back. For six months, I waited for that day; sure, outwardly I had fumed and cursed, but let me heart bleed for six months waiting for the day when he would come and tell me that he chose me, that I was worth havin’, that he wanted me and only me forever. It never happened, and I had waisted far too much of me life hoping to shove a circle in a square hole.
I wasn’t goin’ to sit around and hope Dalton would someday want me, and I wasn’t going to fall at his feet and beg him not to leave me, either. This time, I was going to hold me head up, let meself feel that pain, and move on.
I thanked Father Simmons, pulled open the door, and walked back out to me car. I felt happier after me pep talk, but it didn’t take the tug of sadness at me heart away.
When I walked up to the car and only Alison was inside, I panicked.
“Please don’t tell me they went wandering about?” I groaned out loud.
“Okay, I won’t tell you,” came Alison’s soft voice. “I also won’t tell you that they went into that really rundown-looking bar over there because Synclair had to pee, Sara wants some sort of french fry concoction with cheese, and Rachel… well, she just wanted to be in the middle of all the action.” She looked at me and gave me a tight smile. I definitely need to get this girl’s story.
“How come you didn’t go with them?” I asked, curious as to why she would stay behind.
“You asked us to stay and I didn’t want you to feel like everyone blew you off,” she replied with a shrug.
Pulling open the passenger door, I waited for Alison to climb out of me car, and when she stood in front of me I realized she was at least three inches taller than me and she was wearing flats! She was pretty, though; she had long dark hair and matching dark eyes that gave her an almost exotic look. She was dressed simply in jeans, tennis shoes, and a long-sleeved shirt that had the World Wildlife Federation emblem on it. Even without a stitch of make up,, she was pretty, and I wondered what she would look like done up a bit.
“You okay?” she asked, pulling me out of me thoughts, and I realized I had been staring at her.
“Yeah, yeah, sorry… Um, I don’t know Matt all that well, I just thought if he brought a date you’d be different. I mean, who am I to say what someone's type is? After all, apparently I’m not me own husband’s type,” I told her, trying to cover me rudeness.
She raised one dark brow and smirked at me, and her full mouth twitched at the corners. “So you don’t think I’m Matt’s type?” Her voice almost sounded hopeful.
Not sure what reply she wanted, I went with a guess. “Um, no?” I asked rather than told her.
Her face lit up in a brilliant smile and she hooked her arm around mine, then started toward the pub across the street.
“You’re not upset?” I asked, confused. Was no one sane in this group?
“Upset? No, oh… wow… That’s the best thing I’ve heard since I got here,” she told me in a cheery voice. I noticed she was limping slightly and I was going to ask if she was alright when she spotted a hound sitting near the entrance to the pub.
Alison let go of me and immediately started lavishing the aging animal with hugs and pats. She didn’t even turn her head when the dog licked her right in the face.
“Okaaaaay, I’m goin’ to be inside. Feel free to join us when yer done visitin’,” I told the strange woman and ran inside to find me cousin. This was not a nice pub, this was a locals' pub, and lots of bikers and wankers tended to come here. This was definitely not the place for two pregnant women, a girl with a Victoria Secret fetish, and a woman who seemed like she’d rather date the dog than Matt Hudson to be.
I heard rather than saw Synlclair as I pushed me way through the doors of Grave Robbers, not to be confused with the nicer, more uptown pub called Gravediggers, that was located in a much nicer side of Dublin. The air was stale with smoke and the grimy looks I got from some of the patrons made me want to take a shower.
“Didn’t I tell you not to leave me car?” I admonished as I slid into the booth next to Rachel. Synclair and Sara just smiled and Sara pointed to the heavy set bartender behind the bar.
“Mick promised to make me cheesy fries if Synclair could hit the bullseye on the dart board on the first try!” Sara practically shouted over the noise of the place.
I looked at Synclair and she smiled at me. “What did you do, Syn?” I asked, knowing full well she sucked at darts. When I had tried to teach her, she had accidently thrown a dart in me Da’s backside.
Rachel laughed and pulled me arm to get me attention “Sara adjusted her top and, while ZZ Top back there was gawking at her chest, I ran up and stabbed the dart in the center,” Rachel said, then proudly slapped the table and took a huge drink of her pint.
“So you swindled him?” I asked, looking at me cousin. Did the woman have no shame? You don’t play games with these lads, these weren’t yer typical pushovers.
“Swindle is a strong word. I prefer... um... no, never mind, swindle works.” She laughed and Sara high-fived her as they dissolved into giggles.
Alison approached the table and Sara slid over to make room.
“So, what are you going to about Dalton?” Synclair asked as she sipped a mineral or a soda to those of you outside of Ireland.
I looked at her, hoping me face showed me newfound resolve. “Nothing. I’m not g
oing to beg, chase, or hope that someday Dalton will be different. You can’t change someone, they have to change themselves.” There, that sounded mature and reasonable.
“So you’re not going to tell him about the fact that you guys are married?” Synclair asked, giving me an odd look.
“Yeah, I mean, he has a right to know, doesn’t he? Hey, I was wondering where you got the wedding rings? I know how the marriage petiton thing happened,” Sara inquired and sent a glare over at Rachel before continuing, “but where did you find rings in the middle of the night?”
I had already surmised how that little incident occurred. “We had spent the day taking care of last minute details for the wedding, and when we picked up the rings, Mr. Paddingstone said that Reece had ordered two bands for the ring bearer’s pillow,” I explained as I drew circles on the wooden table top with me thumb.
“Ring bearer? We don’t have a ring bearer!” Synclair hissed, looking at Rachel.
Rachel, for her part, stared out the dirty pub window like something the empty street it faced held avid interest for her.
Synclair slammed a fist on the table, startling all of us. “Rachel, you didn’t by any chance order those rings, did you?” Synclair looked right at her. Rachel fidgeted in her seat and I could tell the girl was close to breaking.
“Okay, yes. I thought that once Dalton was here and they spent time together, we could have a three-way wedding. I didn’t count on Dalton being difficult or them getting married while they were shit-faced,” Rachel explained like she was dissapointed with her sneaky plan.
“Rachel, you can’t meddle in people’s lives like this! Look at Camille, she’s heartbroken and your brother’s more panicked than a teenager taking a pregnancy test!” Sara scolded the younger girl.
Rachel, for her part, looked mortified. “Well, it all would have worked out fine if Dalton hadn’t screwed it up in true Hudson fashion; as you can see, they ended up married after all,” she pratically gloated as she looked around the table. Seeing me grim face, her smile fell and she grabbed me arm.
Lucky Charms: A Hudson Family Series- Book 3- Dalton and Cami Page 27
