Love and Shenanigans (Ballybeg, Book 1) (The Ballybeg Series) (11 page)

“I’m sorry to hear that.” She trailed off, stopping herself from uttering the question on her lips. Had the MacCarthys patched things up? Bridie had mentioned Ruairí leaving Ireland following a massive row with his father, but now was hardly the moment to pry into someone else’s family business. Lord knew she had enough of her own.

He set his elbows on the counter. “What are you drinking?”

“Two gin and tonics, plus two plates of fish and chips.”

“Right-o. Pay here, and I’ll give you your drinks. We’ll bring the food over when it’s ready. Where are you sitting?”

“We’re in the snug.”

“Ah. We’ve fixed the bell in there, you know. Only took us thirty years.” He gave her a wink. “Give us a buzz if you want a second drink.”

“Will do. Thanks, Ruairí.”

While she waited for him to get her drinks, her gaze drifted over the crowd.

And froze.

Gavin Maguire sat slumped at a corner table, looking the worse for wear.

Oh, feck.
Of all the beer joints in Ballybeg, he had to pick this one.

Jonas O’Mahony sat beside him, sporting a pained expression.

At that moment, Gavin looked up, his sky blue eyes riveting her in place. Her stomach lurched and she averted her gaze.

“Well, if it isn’t my missus.” His speech was slurred. If the collection of empty glasses in front of him was any indication, he’d been here for a while.

Jonas nodded to her, making an unsuccessful attempt to smother a smile.

“Ah, go ahead and laugh,” she said, leaning against the bar. “You know you want to.”

“I can’t believe you two eejits eloped in Vegas. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“Of our next Long Island iced tea?”

He shuddered. “Jaysus. Those things are lethal.”

“Alas, no. We were still alive the next day and so was Drunk Elvis.”

Ruairí shoved Fiona’s drinks across the bar counter. “Drunk Elvis? Sure, we have one of those in Ballybeg. Do you remember John-Joe Fitzgerald? Looks like your husband is wearing one of his costumes.”

Fiona surveyed Gavin’s ensemble. “Gawd, you’re right. Speaking of Elvis, that suit’s seen better days.”

“I know.” Jonas groaned. “Nora Fitzgerald will kill us when she sees the state of it. I tried to get him to stay home, but after he’d lashed into a bottle of vodka, there was no stopping him. I had no choice but to go with him and try to keep him in check.”

Fiona regarded the collection of empty glasses on their table and Gavin’s disheveled appearance. “Looks like you’re doing a fantastic job of it. I gotta ask… is the wedding-suit-eating dog the same puppy who caused my public humiliation?”

Jonas choked with laughter.

“You heard about me splitting my dress?” Fiona crossed her arms over her chest and looked at him defiantly.

“Muireann might have mentioned it.”

“To the entire population of Ballybeg, no doubt.”

“Didja plan today as revenge?” Gavin sloshed whiskey down his formerly white suit.

Fiona sucked in a breath. What an arsehole. Did he seriously think she’d go to such extremes to get one up on Muireann? “No,” she snapped. “I did not. Oddly enough, I have no desire to be married to you, not even to humiliate my cousin. Not to worry, Gavin. As usual, it’s all about you.”

He squinted at her through unfocused eyes. “Whaja mean?”

“We’ve known each other off and on for, what, twenty years?”

He considered a moment, arithmetic clearly beyond him in his inebriated state. “Something along those lines.”

“In all that time, you’ve treated me with nothing but condescension, even when you were pretending to be nice. Poor orphaned Fiona. Poor plain Fiona. Do you know how I felt when you abandoned me in Vegas?”

“I didn’t abanjun… abandon you. Jush left.”

“Exactly. You up and fucking left.” She placed her hands on her hips and stared him down. “You left me alone in a strange city. So screw you, Gavin Maguire.”

“Steady on. I didn’t mean—”

“You never do, do you? You’re not capable of looking beyond yourself. I’m not even sure you love Muireann.”

“Hey, now.” He made a futile effort to straighten his slumped form. “That’s below the belt, especially given the day I’ve had.”

“What about
my
day? What about Muireann’s? Surely, of all of us, Bridie’s had the shittiest day?” What the hell had she ever seen in this man? He was totally and utterly self-centered. It was a damn shame he couldn’t marry her witch of a cousin. They deserved each other.

Gavin scrunched his forehead. “How’s Bridie doing?”

“She was carted off in an ambulance, and it’s taken you this long to ask after her state of health?”

“Stop, Fiona. Please. I’m sick of people nagging at me today. My life was fine this morning, and now it’s a fricking mess. I’ve hurt Muireann. I owe her parents their share of the wedding costs. I have a ginormous house with a ginormous mortgage. Considering I’ve just jilted and humiliated my boss’s daughter, I think it’s a safe bet to say I’m unemployed.”

Ruairí’s stocky figure loomed. “Tone it down, Gavin. I’ve been tolerant up to now because I know you’ve had a tough day. You’ve had more than enough to drink. It’s time for you to leave.”

“Ah, no. Come on—”

“No arguments.” Ruairí turned to Jonas. “Are you good to get him home?”

Jonas regarded his drunk friend dubiously. “I’ll haul him there somehow.”

The bartender sighed. “Give me a minute. I’ll ask Marcella to cover me while I drive you to his place.”

“Thanks, mate. Appreciate it.”

“By the way, your food’s ready,” Ruairí said to Fiona. “Janine’s brought it to the snug.”

Food. Her tummy was in knots. The absolute last thing she wanted right now was to eat. “Thanks,” she said in a shaky voice. “Sorry for making a scene.”

He nodded curtly and went to help Jonas drag Gavin out of the pub.

Back in the snug, two plates laden with fish and chips were on their table. They smelled heavenly. Shame she’d lost her appetite.

“Are you okay?” Olivia asked when she took the seat across from her. “Did someone say something?”

“I bumped into Gavin. Literally.”

“Oh, feck. How is he?”

“Inebriated and loose-tongued. Apparently, I’ve wrecked his life, and it’s my fault we’re legally married.”

“Screw him.”

“I would, but he’s an arsehole.”

Olivia opened her mouth wide and laughed. “I’ve missed you, Fee. I wish you lived nearer.”

“Or visited more often. I know, I know. I’ve heard it all from Bridie.” She toyed with her fish and chips before putting her cutlery back on the table with shaky hands. “It’s as if I step into a time warp every time I visit. Some things change, some things stay the same. I revert to my teenage self, complete with the old body issues and insecurities. I sense it happening the moment I pass the sign for Ballybeg, yet it’s like I’m powerless to stop it.”

Olivia speared a chip. “It could be worse. I’m stuck in a trap of my own making and I can’t figure a way out.”

“Are things that bad at home?”

Olivia shrugged. “Ah, no. You know me. I tend to exaggerate. It can get a bit suffocating at times. Aidan’s busy with work, and now his political career. I spend my whole life being Mrs. Aidan Gant, and I have neither the time nor the energy left to be Olivia.”

“What about your little brothers? Do you still babysit them a couple of times a week?”

“I collect them from school, yes. Now that they’re teenagers, they can look after themselves—allegedly.”

Fiona sprinkled malted vinegar on her chips. “If there’s an upside to delaying my trip, it’s the opportunity to spend more time with you.”

“Not to mention the opportunity to set your divorce proceedings in motion,” Olivia said wisely. “Aidan might be a pain at times, but he’s a damn good lawyer. And I happen to be his personal assistant. Why don’t you come by the practice at eleven on Monday morning? Bring Gavin with you. Maybe there’s a way to get an annulment.”

“I certainly hope so. The sooner we can sort this out, the better for all of us.”

Feeling more cheerful than she had all day—which wasn’t saying much—Fiona smiled and ate a vinegar-soaked chip.
Bliss.

GAVIN WOKE TO HAMMERING in his head and a dog licking his feet.

“Ugh. Don’t wanna get up.”

“Rise and shine,” said a female voice before yanking the duvet off his bed. “Time to kick the booze and face reality.”

He sat up, blinking. Fiona stood at the foot of his bed, Wiggly Poo at her side. She wore black from head to toe, offset by crimson lipstick. The lip ring was back in place, as was the attitude. If she was going for the avenging angel look, it was working. “How did you get in?”

She raised an ebony eyebrow. “Through the front door.”

“Smart arse. Did I leave it unlocked?”

“No, Jonas let me in. But it would’ve made no difference. Bridie has your spare key, remember?”

“What are you doing here?” He rubbed his sleepy eyes. “Where’s Jonas?”

“Waking you up. We have an appointment with Aidan Gant in half an hour.” She opened his wardrobe and rifled through his clothes. “As for Jonas, he’s gone to Cork City with his mother and Luca to shop for school supplies.”

When he threw his legs over the side of the bed, Wiggly Poo went into ecstasies of delight, tail wagging, tongue lolling. Gavin scooped him up and scratched under his chin. At least someone was pleased to see him. To his annoyance, it appeared Muireann’s claims of labradoodles being hypoallergenic were accurate—at least in his case. He frowned, a memory emerging through his hung-over haze. “How’d you end up with the dog? He was meant to be staying with Mary McDermott.”

“Yeah… for the wedding that never happened.” Fiona flashed him a sideways grin. “To paraphrase Jonas, Mary evicted Wiggly Poo this morning due to crimes against vegetables.”

“He dug up her prize-winning spuds?”

“Yup. And destroyed a pair of designer shoes.”

He sighed and petted the dog’s soft golden fur. “You have an appetite for expensive clothing, don’t you? I guess Mary’s another person I’ll owe money to.”

“Add Bridie to your list. Wiggly Poo smashed a few of her ornaments during a midmorning rampage.”

“Aw, shite. How’s she doing, anyway? You said something about an operation last night.”

Fiona selected trousers and a shirt and hung them on the door to his en suite bathroom. “I said that on Saturday night. Today’s Monday. You’ve been on a two-day bender.”

Two days?
Jaysus.
No wonder his head hurt. “Will she be okay?”

“Yeah. The operation is scheduled for this morning. Once we’re done with Gant, I’ll go by the hospital.”

“Run this by me again,” he said, returning Wiggly Poo on the floor and grabbing his clothes. “Why are we going to see Aidan Gant?”

“Seriously, Gavin. Have you
no
memory of the past forty-eight hours?”

“I’m hung over, but I’m not that far gone. Even if I was, the wreck of a rental suit reminds me my life has gone from promising and prosperous to a complete fucking fiasco.”

“In that case, you’ll agree it’s in both our interests to sort out this marriage business without delay. Gant’s a creep, but he’s a good solicitor. He’ll know what to do. And if he doesn’t, he’ll know who to refer us to.”

“You’re… different today.”

It was true. The girl he used to know was awkward with a tendency to hunch. She’d had a quick temper but lacked the ability to stand up for herself effectively. But despite her prickly exterior, she was a sweet kid and fiercely loyal to those she loved. Also smart, funny, and—by the time they’d hit their early twenties—prettier than he cared to contemplate.

The woman who stood before him now was anything but awkward. She’d shed the puppy fat but retained her curvaceous figure. She stood tall, proud, and sexy as hell.

“Perhaps I remember who I’ve become,” she said in a clipped tone. “Not who I was.”

“Huh? Sorry, Fiona. I’m not up to solving riddles this morning.”

Her expression was inscrutable. “Never mind. Best get moving. I’ll wait with the dog in the car.”

“You want us to bring Wiggly Poo?”

She cocked an eyebrow. “In the half hour Jonas left me dog-sitting him, he ran riot through Bridie’s house. Would you leave him alone?”

Within fifteen minutes, Gavin was showered, shaved, and dosed with headache tablets. Fiona and Wiggly Poo were waiting in her VW Polo.

Gavin eased himself into the passenger seat and put on his seat belt. The meds were starting to clear his head sufficiently for memories of the last couple of days to come flooding back.

He groaned. He should’ve buried his head under his pillow and stayed in bed. He wasn’t ready to face the world and view the wreckage of his previously orderly and peaceful existence. So much for his goal to live a drama-free life. Not even his mother’s wildest shenanigans had resulted in this much mayhem.

Fiona parallel parked outside Aidan Gant’s offices. She removed the dog carrier from the back seat.

Gavin eyed the puppy with suspicion. Wiggly Poo was snoozing in his cage, looking cute and deceptively innocent. “Is bringing him in wise?”

“Probably not, but it seems cruel to leave him alone in the car.”

Aidan Gant’s legal practice comprised of three spacious rooms and a small entrance lobby.

Olivia ushered them to a leather sofa in the waiting area and buzzed her husband.

A few minutes later, Aidan Gant emerged from his office. His smarmy smirk was enough to make the acid in Gavin’s stomach crawl up his esophagus.

“Gavin.” Gant’s limp handshake was in stark contrast to Bernard’s crushing counterpart. “And Fiona.” He held her hand a second longer than strictly necessary. “Let’s go into my office.”

Gavin lifted the cage containing Wiggly Poo. “What should I do with the dog? He’s a little on the wild side.”

Gant recoiled and regarded the travel cage as if it contained a rabid beast.

“I’ll look after him.” Olivia took the cage from Gavin. “You go on in with Aidan.”

Gant’s office was the largest room on the premises. The white walls were laden with paintings. Gavin was no art expert, but he judged them bad enough to be expensive.