“She’ll be here,” Padraig reassured him. “I invited her Sunday night. And confirmed last night by text.”
“I was pleased to see Gio remembered to include our reserved nameplates,” Pop Pop said, running his finger along his name before picking up a napkin to wipe away the smudge he’d left behind.
“The nameplates were the first thing I mentioned when we talked about the design for the rebuild. Couldn’t have anyone sitting in yours or Emmy’s spot.”
Pop Pop ran his hand over the smooth countertop, a gesture Padraig had repeated himself more times than he could count. He swallowed heavily when he saw a tear in his grandfather’s eye.
“I didn’t expect it to be so perfect…didn’t dare to hope…” Pop Pop’s smile was wide when he said, “We got our pub back, Paddy.”
Padraig, unable to speak past the lump in his throat, merely reached over to pat Pop Pop’s hand and nod.
“Feels like coming home after years away,” Pop Pop added.
“Goddammit,” his father, Tris, muttered from behind him.
“Language,” Pop Pop said with a chuckle, and just like that, the emotional moment lightened.
“Sorry, Pop,” Tris replied by rote.
It was a standard interchange between Pop Pop and basically every single member of the family, all of them big fans of cursing. The offender would swear, Pop Pop would utter that lone word, and the apology would follow. His grandfather’s continual admonitions never had a lasting effect. Pretty much every member of the Collins family—with the exception of Pop Pop—cussed like a sailor.
“Something wonky is going on with the Bud tap, Paddy,” Dad said. “Bend down there and see if it’s connected right.”
Padraig squatted down to check. “Oh yeah. One of the tubes came loose. Hang on a second.” He reached back to reconnect it.
He was just rising when he heard his father say, “Fuck.”
Padraig glanced back down to make sure he hadn’t screwed something else up, but everything looked fine.
That’s when he realized Pop Pop didn’t say “language.”
Instead, what his grandfather said was much worse.
“Shit.”
Padraig stood up.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, but his father and grandfather were both looking toward the front entrance.
He turned just in time to see Joe Moretti and Emmy walk in together.
Joe took her coat, hanging it on a hook near the door, then placed his hand on her back to guide her farther into the pub.
Padraig saw red, clenching his jaw so tightly, he was surprised his teeth weren’t shattering. There was no way he was seeing what he thought he was seeing.
Joe and Emmy made their way over to the bar. She stepped up next to Pop Pop and gave him a hug.
“Welcome back, Mr. Collins. Paddy told me a bit about your trip. Sounds like it was amazing,” she said. “You and I are going to have to make a lunch date one day soon so I can hear all about it.”
“My dear Emmy, I’ve told you a million times to call me Pat. And it was a brilliant trip, lass. A one-in-a-million opportunity. I’m going to hold you to those lunch plans.”
“This place,” she said, looking around, her voice filled with awe.
“I know,” Pop Pop said. “Paddy and I were just remarking on it.” He looked over her shoulder at Joe. “You and your brothers do fine work, Joe. Very fine indeed.”
Joe nodded. “Thank you, Mr. Collins. That means a lot to me.”
Under normal circumstances, Padraig would have joined the conversation, but at the moment, he was too fixated on Joe’s hand, on the way it had returned to the small of Emmy’s back after she’d hugged his grandfather.
“Hey, Joe!”
Their small group looked over to see Tony waving to his brother. Joe looked at Emmy. “I’m going to go say hello to my brothers, then grab us a booth.”
“Cool,” she said. “I’ll order our drinks. What would you like?”
“Peroni would be great.” Joe turned to walk away as Padraig scoffed.
“Peroni,” he said with disgust.
Emmy laughed and teasingly called him a beer snob.
“You’re here on a date with Joe Moretti?” Padraig asked as he poured Joe’s beer, then reached for the bottle of Emmy’s favorite Chardonnay.
“Yes. Do you believe it?” she said, giving him a wide-eyed look, mouthing OMG. The response would have been adorable if Padraig wasn’t so…pissed off. “He called me this morning to see if I was coming tonight. When I said yes, he asked if I wanted to go with him. Since you told me to start bringing my dates here, I figured you’d be pleased.”
Padraig could feel the weight of his father’s and grandfather’s stares as they both looked in his direction. Their expressions, if he’d bothered to glance their way, would no doubt be of the WTF variety.
Emmy picked up their drinks from the counter as he pushed them across to her and said “thanks” before turning to find Joe.
Padraig watched as she slid into the curved corner booth next to Joe, who wasted no time resting his arm on the back of the seat behind her. If the man got any more handsy, tonight was going to end in a brawl.
Finn and Layla walked up to the bar, both of them looking back to where Joe and Emmy sat.
“Did Emmy just walk in here with Joe?” Finn asked.
Padraig nodded as Layla sighed.
“Shit,” she said, quickly apologizing to Pop Pop for her language before he had a chance to say anything to her. “That’s my fault. I was texting with Emmy on Thursday, asking how her date with Lucas’s friend went. Joey was with me. When I told him who I was talking to, he said he thought Emmy was Paddy’s girlfriend. I explained that you guys are just friends,” she said to Padraig. Before he had a chance to correct her, Layla continued, “I didn’t realize he wanted to ask her out. I mean, I love my brother dearly, but Joey is a player from the word go. I would have set her up with Gio or Luca.”
“Not Tony?” Finn asked curiously.
Layla shook her head. “No, Tony’s a bit too intense for her, I think. Oh well,” Layla said as if it was no big deal. “Who knows? Maybe Joey and Emmy will hit it off and get married. She would rock as a sister-in-law.”
And then, oblivious to the bomb she’d just dropped on Padraig’s head, Layla headed toward the large table she and Finn were sharing with their third, Miguel, and the other Moretti brothers.
Finn remained behind, studying Padraig’s face closely. Not that he had to look too hard. Padraig wasn’t bothering to hide his feelings at the moment.
“Emmy told the girls that she asked you out before Christmas and you turned her down. That you insisted on just being friends,” Finn said, as if that would help.
Pop Pop shook his head. “Oh, Paddy.”
“You’ve changed your mind, haven’t you?” Finn asked.
Padraig nodded. “Yeah. I have.”
Uncle Ewan walked over. “Hey. Is Emmy here with Joe Moretti?”
Padraig might have laughed at all the men in his family swarming around, ready to do battle with him, if he weren’t so pissed off. And while he was angry at Joe, he was more furious with himself. He’d taken Emmy for granted for too long, unable to see what was standing right in front of him, too blinded by grief and guilt.