Padraig laughed. “You regret that, huh?”
She nodded.
“Game on,” he replied, picking her up, throwing her over his shoulder firefighter style, and carrying her to his bedroom as she laughed delightedly.
Game on indeed.
9
Padraig hummed as he wiped up the counter, his thoughts drifting back to kissing Emmy goodbye before he left for work. They’d spent the entire morning and afternoon lounging in each other’s arms, watching TV, eating breakfast and lunch in bed, and making love countless times.
It had been two weeks since their first date, and Padraig couldn’t recall the last time he’d been this happy. It had been years.
“Jesus, man. You gotta wipe that grin off your face. People are going to start to think you’re touched in the head.”
Padraig looked up and laughed at Finn’s observation as his cousin grabbed a stool at the bar, a big plate of wings in his hands. Then his brows rose when he spotted Oliver and Lochlan just a few steps behind, carrying clean plates, napkins, and wipes.
“Did I miss an invite to the party?” Padraig asked, pulling down three pint glasses and filling them with Guinness from the tap. He’d never had to take an order from these guys. Like him, they were Guinness men through and through.
“Actually, the party is here because you are invited, so,” Lochlan gestured to the three glasses, “you need to pour one for yourself. We thought we’d lift a glass in honor of Fergus’s fatherhood. Celebrating the newest addition to the Collins family with wings and beer.”
Padraig grabbed a glass for himself. “An excellent idea.”
Fergus’s wife, Aubrey, had delivered a healthy baby girl this morning after a long night of labor. Fergus had texted several middle-of-the-night updates, clearly going out of his mind with worry for his wife, despite the reassurances of every male in the family who’d already walked this path that she and the baby would be just fine.
According to the new dad in his last text—which was accompanied by a picture of the tiny baby in Aubrey’s arms—Sophie Grace Collins had entered the world kicking and screaming at the ass crack of dawn. And there was no question Fergus was already head over heels in love with his precious daughter.
Lochlan lifted his glass. “To Fergus, who will never enjoy another peaceful night’s sleep in his life. Poor bastard.”
“Poor bastard,” Oliver, Finn, and Padraig all chimed in, chuckling before taking a sip of their beer. For a few minutes, the four of them dug into the plate of wings, dipping them in ranch, while talking sports.
Then Finn glanced down toward Emmy’s end of the bar. “Where’s Em?”
“Doctor’s office. Annual physical. She’s coming here to write afterwards.”
“Which explains that shit-eating grin of yours,” Oliver said, turning the conversation around to Padraig. “I assume this means things are going good?”
Padraig didn’t even bother to play it cool. “Things are amazing. Seriously. Unbelievably great. We’ve spent every single night together since the soft opening of the pub.”
“I thought I recognized that oversexed glow,” Finn joked.
“Jealous?” Padraig teased.
“I live with my boyfriend and my girlfriend, so I’ll let you figure out the answer to that on your own,” Finn replied, making it perfectly clear he was just as oversexed.
Lochlan groaned. “You guys are going to have to take it easy on me with the sex talk. I’ve got a toddler going through a phase. Wyatt starts out in his bed every night, but by midnight, he’s crawling in between me and May. And you know my wife. May has now read every article in the world about ‘the family bed,’” Lochlan said, finger-quoting the last. “I’m starting to worry I won’t get laid again until Wyatt starts high school.”
They all laughed as Oliver leaned toward Lochlan, bumping his shoulder against his older cousin’s. “So I guess now is a bad time for me to say I’m in the same happy boat as Finn. Only better—honeymoon phase and all that.”
Oliver had been dating his girlfriend, Erin, for a year and a half, but over the holidays, their “couple” status shifted to “throuple” as they both fell head over heels for Oliver’s best friend, Gavin, as well. Oliver definitely had that “new car” smell when it came to his change in relationship status, his grin a permanent fixture on his face these days.
Lochlan narrowed his eyes. “Asshole,” he muttered good-naturedly. Then he turned his gaze back to Padraig. “I have to admit, I’m happy for you, cuz. Really happy.”
Padraig smiled at Lochlan’s heartfelt comment. He knew how much his family had worried about him over the past few years. He’d gone to a dark place after Mia died, and it had taken him a long time to find his way back. Emmy—and his family—had been his guides, and he was certain that without them, he’d still be trapped in the darkness.
“Thanks, Lochlan. I can’t believe how easily we’ve made the transition from just friends to a couple. Nothing has been hard work—everything’s coming so naturally. It’s like she was made for me. We’ve been alternating between her place and mine every night, and we’ve introduced Seamus to her cats. Luna hides under the bed whenever my crazy mutt is there, but I think she’ll warm up to him. Neville is completely indifferent, which seems to be that cat’s attitude about everything.”
“Wow. Introduction of pets. This is serious,” Lochlan said with a chuckle. “A regular blended family.”
Padraig took another swig of his Guinness. “I know you’re joking, but to be honest, that’s exactly what it feels like. I’ve been thinking it’s probably silly for Em and me to keep the two apartments when we’re together every night. I spent the morning debating with myself over which place we should keep. Mine is closer to the pub, but hers is a bit bigger.”
“Wait a minute,” Finn said, holding his hand up in a stop motion. “You’re thinking about moving in together?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t we?”
Oliver frowned. “Maybe because your relationship is all of two weeks old.”
Padraig rolled his eyes. “We’ve been dating two weeks, but we’ve been friends a lot longer. This isn’t a new relationship.”
Finn tilted his head. “Actually, it is. Weren’t you the guy who proclaimed on Christmas Eve that he wasn’t ready to date? You’ve only just turned the corner and jumped back into the dating scene. Why don’t you enjoy that for a little while before rushing to the next part?”
Padraig wasn’t sure what to make of his cousins attempting to slow down his relationship, but it was obvious from Lochlan and Oliver’s faces, they agreed with Finn.
He knew they were crazy about Emmy. And they’d all—at some point in the past year—tried to convince him to start dating again, so this advice seemed in direct contrast to everything they’d said before.
“I’m not sure it matters how fast or slow we go. I know how I feel about her. I’m all in—and I want it all. Marriage, babies, the whole shebang.”
The desire for children had appeared just that morning, when Fergus had texted the picture of Sophie in Aubrey’s arms. Padraig had shown it to Emmy, and as she oohed and ahhed over the tiny baby, Padraig had imagined it was her with their child in her arms. The second his mind conjured the image, he’d been unable to unsee it. He wanted to be a father, and he wanted Emmy to be the mother of his children, telling them the stories about her beloved rocks.