Emmy had turned a corner that day as well, aware that at some point, she’d dropped the reins on her life and had failed to pick them back up. So she’d walked away from her computer, gotten dressed in real clothes—rather than her usual loungewear—and headed outside. She’d decided to treat herself to lunch, not takeout or delivery, but to a real meal in a real restaurant.
She’d walked into Pat’s Pub and boom!
New life, new friends, newfound happiness.
Emmy was certain the Collins family didn’t have a clue how much they’d impacted her world, changing it for the better.
“Emmy!” Kelli called out from across the restaurant, her loud voice drawing the attention of pretty much everyone in the place. “Get your ass over here. We’re halfway through the first pitcher of margaritas.”
Emmy grinned when the patrons’ gazes slid from Kelli to her as she made her way across the restaurant. Kelli Collins had a booming voice, a boisterous laugh, and one of those personalities that drew people in like moths to a flame.
“You started without me?” she asked, gesturing to the margaritas in front of them as she hung her winter coat on a hook next to the large corner booth her friends had claimed.
“You’re late,” Sunnie said, just before popping a chip covered with salsa into her mouth. “And the only reason there’s still half a pitcher left is because I’m pregnant.”
Emmy looked at her watch. “I’m five minutes late.”
Caitlyn waved her hand as if that only proved Sunnie’s point. “She’s not wrong about her pregnancy slowing down our pace. You’re going to have to pick up the slack.”
Emmy shook her head in amusement, then sat down and thanked Kelli, who’d picked up the margarita pitcher and filled a glass for her. “I’m not a suitable stand-in for Sunnie. Only had two of these the last time and my head ached for days afterwards. They’re wicked strong.”
“After all this time with us, you’d think you would have built up some kind of tolerance for margaritas,” Caitlyn mused, winking at her.
Kelli topped up her own glass and Yvonne’s to empty the pitcher before waving to the waitress to order another.
“Where are Layla and Erin?” Emmy asked, aware they were a few girlfriends short on the monthly margarita happy hour.
“The Italian Stallions are in town today, consulting with Uncle Justin and Uncle Killian on the pub rebuild. They’re ready to start putting in the furnishings and decorations,” Sunnie replied, using her mother Riley’s nickname for the super-sexy Moretti brothers from Philadelphia.
Moretti Brothers Restorations was an incredibly successful business known for their amazing skill at home and business renovations. They’d been featured more than a few times on various shows on HGTV. Of course, Emmy figured the fact that the business was run by four of the hottest guys on the planet probably helped get them on television as much as their mad carpentry skills.
“They’re already on the decorating phase?” Emmy asked, wondering why she was so surprised to discover how quickly things were moving on the pub. The Collins family was a force of nature and the pub was the nucleus of their universe, so it stood to reason none of them would rest until it was put back to rights.
“Already,” Yvonne said with a huge grin. “You should see the kitchen. It’s a dream. State-of-the-art everything.” Yvonne, along with her aunt Riley, served as cooks for the pub, as well as the connecting restaurant, Sunday’s Side.
“Anyway, Layla and Erin and their guys are joining Layla’s brothers for drinks and dinner after the meeting,” Sunnie added. “Layla bitches nonstop about her overprotective brothers coming to Baltimore to check up on her too much, but damn if she doesn’t stop everything to spend time with them when they hit town.”
If Emmy had brothers like Layla, rather than the one she had, she’d be exactly the same way, putting everything aside to spend time with them. The Morettis were a close-knit family, very much like the Collinses.
“And where’s Darcy? She never misses,” Emmy said after taking a sip of her margarita.
“She’s caught some sort of stomach bug,” Sunnie replied. “Which means we’re just going to have to double down on the ‘when are you getting pregnant?’ portion of happy hour next month.”
Darcy, who’d married the love her life, Ryder, last summer, insisted she was in no hurry to have children because Clint, Ryder’s son from his previous marriage, was more than enough for them at the moment. Puberty had hit, and apparently Clint was giving her and Ryder a run for their money when it came to moodiness.
Sometimes the size of the Collins family overwhelmed Emmy. There were countless aunts, uncles, cousins, spouses, and now, an ever-growing brood of babies. Emmy had counted nearly fifty people at Christmas before she gave up. A Collins Christmas was a far cry from her holidays growing up, which had consisted of just her, her mom, her dad, and sometimes—if he’d bothered to come home—her older brother, Sam.
“Are you missing Colm?” Emmy asked Kelli.
Kelli gave her an incredulous look. “He’s only been in Ireland a week. That’s not nearly enough time to miss that asshole.”
Everyone laughed at the joke, though no one was fooled by it at all. Kelli and Colm had grown up together, spent nearly a lifetime as “frenemies” before succumbing to what Colm referred to as the Collins curse a year ago.
According to Colm, whenever someone in his family fell in love, it was fast, hard, and forever.
Emmy had laughed the first time Colm told her about the “curse,” and she’d even gone so far as to include the concept in one of her romance novels.
Lately though, she was less amused by it, hung up on the one word in the curse that did indeed feel like…well…a curse.
Forever.
“Sleeping in his shirts?” Sunnie asked Kelli, proving exactly what Emmy had known as well.
Kelli sighed. “Every damn night. Last night, I spritzed some of his cologne on his pillow. When did I become such a hopeless case?”
“I think the phrase is hopeless romantic,” Emmy said.
Kelli rolled her eyes. “I stand by what I said.”
“Where are the twins?” Emmy asked.
Kelli took another sip of her margarita. “With their grandma Lane, who actually issued a threat when I left, telling me she wanted those babies to herself for at least three hours, so y’all gird your loins. I intend to take her up on that, which means this happy hour is gonna be a marathon, not a sprint.”
Yvonne rubbed her forehead. “Ugh. I can already feel tomorrow’s hangover coming on.”
Caitlyn sighed. “It’s been ages since I’ve seen you girls. Not since Christmas. I’ll be glad when the pub reopens. I hate not knowing anything about what you all are up to.”
Emmy also felt out of touch with her friends. Ever since the fire, she’d been forced back into her apartment. During her childhood, her family’s apartment had been her happy place, but nowadays, it felt as if the walls were closing in on her, the apartment too small, too quiet, too boring.
Too lonely.
“I agree. So,” Yvonne continued, “what has everyone been doing? Let’s catch up.”