Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 48730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
“They’re ours.”
“Aisling, give me back my Legos,” Ronan bellowed from outside the room. Stomping feet echoed through the doorway as he chased her through the house.
“They’re ours,” I replied happily.
CHAPTER 10
Aoife
5 years later
“He’s here,” Aisling said excitedly, smacking at Saoirse’s hands as she burst out of the chair and went running for the door.
Saoirse stared at the empty chair. “I was almost done with her hair.”
“We’ve got time,” I said easily. I’d thought that I would be nervous or anxious on my wedding day, but I wasn’t. There was nothing easier than marrying Richie. If it had been up to him, we would’ve gotten married the year after I got guardianship of the kids when he’d put an engagement ring on my finger.
He’d been able to afford it because we never moved out of my family home. We hadn’t seen the point since it was paid off, and I’d been determined to give the kids as much normalcy as I could. They’d been able to grow up in the same place where they made all of their first memories. I was proud of that.
With the little money left from Dad’s insurance policy, and a surprisingly large policy he’d set up for my mom before he died, I’d been able to go to college and get an accounting degree, and there was enough left over to help any of the kids who decided to go to college after me. It was something that I’d never imagined would be possible for any of us, and I thanked my dad daily for taking care of us long after he was gone.
Saoirse smiled at me as the sounds of Harley engines shut off abruptly outside.
“He brought someone with him.”
“He always does,” I mused.
My heart had stopped when Cian had come home on an old Harley the week after his eighteenth birthday, and he’d nearly broken it when he drove out to Oregon a month later to look up the bikers we’d met on our mad dash to Aunt Ashley. My consolation had been the visits he made at least once a month since then. It wasn’t enough, but I’d made peace with it.
All I wanted was for my kids to be happy, confident, and secure in themselves and the knowledge that Richie and I would always be there for them when they needed us. Cian had all that, so I refused to complain.
At least out loud. In my head, I worried incessantly, but that wasn’t anything new.
“Boys aren’t allowed,” Aisling said from outside the door.
“I think that’s just the groom,” my brother replied, swinging it open.
He took one step inside and froze.
“Ah, Mam,” he said softly. “You’re gorgeous.”
The accent barely came out anymore, even when he was emotional, but it was clear as day then.
I did a little twirl. “Yeah?”
“Richie’s gonna shit himself.”
“Jesus, I hope not,” I replied, my laughter a little watery. “Was the drive okay?”
“It was fine, stop worrying,” he replied, coming further into the room.
He was wearing a black leather vest that had become as familiar as the sound of his motorcycle engine. It had far fewer patches than the ones I remembered on the bikers from all those years ago, but he assured me he’d fill it up, once he’d earned it. Whatever that meant.
“Who’d you bring with you?” I asked as he leaned in for a hug.
“Shit, I don’t want to touch you and mess up this dress,” he muttered, gingerly wrapping his arms around me.
“Screw the dress.”
He laughed. “Brought Bas and Brody,” he said as he let me go. “That cool?”
“Sure.” I’d also gotten used to Cian bringing friends home. They were all sweet and respectful and a little rough around the edges. They fit right in.
“Dang, Sersh,” Cian said, finally noticing our sister on the opposite side of the room. “Lookin’ good.”
“Less effusive than what you gave Mam,” she said, striking a pose in her bridesmaid dress. “But I’ll allow it.”
It had started with Cian. A month later, Aisling and Ronan started calling me Mam, too. Saoirse started the day the guardianship was finalized. I hadn’t made a big deal out of it, but each time they used the name, something inside me tightened and released at the same time. The acknowledgment of who I was to them was never unwelcome.
Richie wasn’t ever Dad, but most of the time the younger ones called him Pop. He wasn’t as good at hiding how much it meant to him. Cian teased him about it only once before realizing that it was important. He’d dropped it since then. He’d even used it a few times. I only knew because after we climbed into bed at night, when the house was quiet around us, Richie would quietly tell me about it, his voice rough.
“You better go get dressed,” I ordered Cian. “We’ve only got an hour.”