his assurance.
He puts his arm around my shoulder and gives me a sideways hug. “I know exactly what you mean,” he says. I’m grateful he doesn’t try to tell me I’m right or wrong, or to silence the inner critic in my head I’ve given voice to. He just understands. Sheena moved out when she was younger, and Sam was only a baby when we moved. But Tiernan and I remember it all.
“Do it for them,” he says with a rakish grin. “You know the McCarthy family will do damn near anything for an excuse to party.”
I smile. They will. The women especially love a reason to spread tables with food, pipe music through speakers, and kick up their heels.
“Who’s there?” I ask. For some reason, Tiernan doesn’t meet my eyes, but shades his and looks in front of us.
“Oh, looks like loads,” he says. “Maybe they’ll even let you have a drink tonight, eh?”
“Maybe,” I say quietly, but I’m still hung up on his evasive answer. Maybe he knows there’s one person I really want to see.
“There she is!” Cormac’s booming voice carries through the air, and cheers erupt as everyone turns to face me. I’m so grateful Tiernan’s with me.
“Jesus,” I mutter under my breath, but I don’t get a moment’s reprieve. In the next second, the whole swarm of McCarthys surrounds me. Nolan and Sheena with my younger brother Sam, Nolan’s brother Cormac and his wife Aileen, Clan Chief and eldest brother Keenan with his wife Caitlin and their children. Maeve, the clan matriarch, her arms laden with flowers and all the little toddlers at her heels. She’s like the pied piper, and they follow her everywhere.
“Happy birthday, love,” she says, kissing my cheek. “I know you hate surprises, but I couldn’t bottle them up.” She rolls her eyes, but I know she loves it.
I give her a brief hug, both to silently thank her and for a bit of quick assurance. She hugs me back and whispers in my ear, “You deserve this. We love you.”
I swallow hard. Maeve is mum to all in the clan, and I’m no exception. I love her for it.
I scan the crowd, and can’t help but grin in spite of myself. Wow. So many are here. Carson and cousin Megan, with little Breena holding their hands. Nolan joins Maeve and kisses my cheek.
“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he says. He’s been something between a father figure and older brother to me since he and Sheena adopted us. I lean into him and give him a massive hug, squeezing him around the neck.
“Thank you,” I tell him, and my voice is a little shaky. I hope he knows it isn’t just the party I’m thanking him for.
Tiernan joins his brothers, and the band they’ve hired kicks up. Before long, I’ve got a pint in my hand while I watch the children dancing up a storm. I’ve got a plate heaped with food, and I sit at a little white table with Nolan and Sheena.
I keep scanning the crowd and pretending like I’m not. I wait for Nolan to join his brothers for a pint before I speak in a low voice to Sheena.
“Sheena,” I say quietly. “Many are here, but not… not all?”
She sighs. Why does she sigh? “He’s here.”
Why is her voice tight? And dammit, how did she know exactly who I’m looking for?
Whatever. I’ll go with it, then, because I want to know.
“Where is he, then?”
He hasn’t come to see me, to greet me, or to wish me a happy birthday. His absence only confirms my biggest fear.
Though I’ve experienced vivid, visceral pain, unrequited love may be the most painful.
Sheena jerks her head toward the very back of the tent to where the green grass and flowers lead to the fullest part of the garden.
And then I see him. He’s got one hand in his pocket, the other holding a pint, but he doesn’t sip. And he’s staring out beyond the garden to the depths of the Irish Sea.
I’m on my feet before I know it. Trembling.
“Fiona?”
I walk away from Sheena. I don’t want my older sister’s admonition, not now. I don’t want her warning or a lecture. Sheena’s been as good to me as a mum, but there are things she doesn’t know.
When I’m only paces away, he turns to me.
Lachlan McCarthy. Though he isn’t one of the sons of Seamus McCarthy, he’s related by blood, second cousins. He’s so tall he has to duck to bend under the loping