Love and Shenanigans (Ballybeg, Book 1) (The Ballybeg Series) (7 page)

“If he tucked into your grub with such gusto, looks like he won’t be needing a vet,” Jonas said, grinning.

Gavin’s mobile rang. He glanced at caller display.

His fiancée.
Damn.
What was he going say about the suit?

“Muireann.” His voice rang with false cheer.

Jonas mimed a hangman’s noose, complete with comical facial expressions.

Gavin flipped him the finger. He strode into his bedroom and closed the door behind him. “How are you this morning? All ready for the wedding?”

“What’s wrong, Gavin?” She sounded peevish. “Did something happen?”

“What makes you ask that?”

“Your tone of voice. Is Wiggly Poo okay? You took him for a morning walk, right?”

Damn
He knew he’d forgotten something. “Yeah, sure.”

“Good.” Her tone was clipped. “I’m calling to remind you to bring the rings.”

“That’s Jonas’s job.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m calling
you
. Jonas is about as reliable as a leaking boat.”

“That’s a bit harsh.”

“But accurate.”

“Jonas is my friend, Muireann. I don’t bitch about the twins.”

Silence.

“Sorry. I want today to be perfect,” she said.

“Fine,” Gavin said. “I’ll make sure he has them.”

“By the way, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I wanted to mention it to you last night, but we had that disagreement.”

“What’s up?”

“I’m late.”

“Late?”

“My period, silly.”

Gavin’s blood turned to ice. “Come again?”

“It might be due to wedding stress, but I’m usually so regular.”

His mouth formed silent words. Seconds of tense silence stretched into a minute.

“Aren’t you going to say anything, Gavin?”

“I… that’s… great.” He tasted bile and swallowed hard.

“I know we hadn’t planned to start trying for another few months. Sometimes, these things just happen.”

They did? Surely not when people were vigilant about birth control.

“I knew you’d be pleased,” she continued. “I haven’t bought a pregnancy test yet, but I thought the news would cheer you up before you have to face the crowd in the church.”

“That’s great,” he repeated, feeling sick.

“I’ll see you at the church in a couple of hours. This wedding is going to be perfect.”

“What’s this?” Olivia clutched a piece of paper in her hand.

Fiona stared at her, and her heart began to race. “It’s nothing,” she said and tried to snatch it from Olivia.

Olivia took a step back and held the certificate out of reach. “Like hell it’s nothing. This says you married Gavin Maguire in Las Vegas eight years ago.”

“We didn’t, though. Not really.” Fiona’s voice cracked with desperation, and her palms began to sweat.

“You didn’t really marry?” Olivia’s eyebrows reached the ceiling. “You’ll need to rephrase that for me, Fee. Perhaps I’m slow on the uptake after last night’s debauchery. I thought one was either married or not, no in between.”

“We exchanged vows. However, the officiant didn’t register the marriage.”

“Whoa! Back up a sec. Officiant?” Olivia blinked. “If you had an officiant, how is the marriage not legal?”

“It’s… complicated.”

“So explain it to me in easy-peasy words.”

Fiona regarded Olivia’s stubborn expression and sighed. “You’re not going to let me off the hook, are you?”

“No way. I see a marriage certificate between you and Gavin—the groom in the wedding we’re about to attend—and I want answers.”

“Okay, fine. It’s not what you think. This is only a provisional cert and the officiant was a drunk Elvis impersonator.”

“Fee! Tell me what happened.”

“Remember when Muireann and her pals came to stay during my year in Flagstaff, Arizona?”

“Uninvited, if I recall correctly.”

“Yeah. You know Muireann. She showed up with Gavin, the twins, and a couple of other lads in tow. She wasn’t going out with Gavin yet, but it was only a matter of time. They stayed in the Flagstaff area for a few days and planned a trip to the Grand Canyon.”

“And didn’t invite you.” Olivia finished her thought.

“Of course not. It was kind of embarrassing. My host family let me have the weekend free to spend with them, and they took off without me.”

“Sounds like the Muireann we know and love,” Olivia said dryly. “How did this all lead to you, Gavin, and a dude in an Elvis suit?”

“I’m getting there, Liv. Bear with me. Anyway, they’d been gone a couple of hours when I got a call from Gavin. He’d realized I’d been left behind against my will and told Muireann and the others to go on without him. They’d left him somewhere along Route 64. He called me to come collect him because he was stranded.”

“And muggins complied.” Olivia shook her head. “Thank goodness you’ve developed backbone in the intervening years.”

“Oy! Do you want me to finish telling the story, or not?”

Olivia picked up her mug of tea. “Sorry. Go on.”

“I collected Gavin. He was in a pisser of a mood. I asked if he wanted us to drive to the Grand Canyon. He said no. Didn’t want to run the risk of running into Muireann and the others until he’d had time to calm down. He wanted to know what I planned to do with my weekend off. I said I was toying with the idea of heading to Vegas but wasn’t sure I had the nerve to go on my own.”

“Ha! So says the woman about to embark on a world trip alone.”

Fiona gave a wry smile. “We’re talking about twenty-one-year-old me. The idea of walking into a restaurant on my own terrified me. A bar or casino? Forget it.”

“And Gavin oh-so-conveniently suggested he accompany you?”

“Yeah. I was shocked, to be honest. Also a little excited. I’d always had a crush on Gavin, but it was clear Muireann was making a play for him, and Muireann always gets what she wants. I didn’t seriously think anything would happen between us that weekend, but I was willing to go and have a laugh.”

“By the look of that photo, you had more than a laugh.”

“Put it this way—turns out Long Island iced tea contains five shots of alcohol. Who knew?”

“Oh, dear,” Olivia said with a laugh. “How many did you down?”

“I lost count after the third.”

Olivia winced. “Ouch.”

“Indeed. I vaguely recall chatting to a drunk Elvis impersonator in a bar. Either we bought him a drink, or he bought us a round. He’d lost his job and his wife had kicked him out. Anyway, he told us he’d worked as a wedding officiant at a local chapel until they fired him a couple of weeks before. We thought this was funny. With the alcohol flowing, we thought everything was funny.

“Drunk Elvis started going on about the number of couples he’d married and how he always knew whether they’d last. He said he could see we were the real deal, and we should definitely tie the knot. At first, it was all a drunken joke. But the more we drank, the more convinced Gavin became that we should do it.”

“Wow. How drunk was he?”

“Very. If even I noticed he was hammered, he had to be in a state.” Fiona began to pace. “Drunk Elvis offered to do us a special offer on the ceremony. He’d say a few words, sing a song, and we’d sign the papers. I don’t know why I went along with it. It was insane. For a moment, I actually hoped Gavin would fall in love with me.”

“And that didn’t happen,” Olivia said.

“No. We had sex. That much I remember. I also remember it was fantastic, but I digress.”

“Digress all you want,” Olivia said. “I’m intrigued.”

“You can stay intrigued. You’re getting no details out of me.”

“Ah, Fee. You’re no fun.”

“The morning after was no fun, put it that way. When I was done retching, Gavin made it clear he wanted out of the marriage and was going to talk to Drunk Elvis. He’d read the fine print in our marriage guide and realized our marriage wouldn’t be legally binding until Drunk Elvis lodged the papers with the marriage bureau. Gavin wanted to offer to pay for him to stay in the motel for a couple of weeks, give him time to get on his feet after his personal drama. In return, he would agree to forget the ceremony ever happened.”

“And did he?”

“I guess. I never heard anything to the contrary. For all I know, Drunk Elvis wasn’t a real officiant. And even if he was, maybe the marriage isn’t valid because we were all under the influence at the time.”

“Aidan’s had clients who married in Vegas. It’s easy enough to check if the papers were registered. It’s all online.”

Fiona’s stomach flipped. “If he said he wouldn’t register the papers, why would he have done so?”

“Don’t you want to be certain?”

“I’m not the one about to walk down the aisle.”

“In that case, you’ve got nothing to lose by checking. Why don’t we look up your Drunk Elvis and see if he’s genuine?”

“Okay,” Fiona said, thinking of all the reasons it was not okay. “I’ll fire up my laptop.”

“Right.” Olivia glanced at the provisional certificate. “Drew Draper. What a name. Come on, Google, do your magic.”

“Wow,” Fiona said. “Who knew there were so many Drew Drapers in the world?”

“Here we go,” Olivia said. “Drew Draper, preacher. Wow. He doesn’t look like an Elvis preacher, but he seems legit. I say we check the online registry.”

“Do we have to?” The room was starting to spin around Fiona.

“If you’re convinced Drew Draper destroyed those papers, why are you afraid to look up the wedding registry?”

“I don’t know.” Fiona took a deep breath. “Sometimes it’s best to leave well alone. Gavin’s about to marry Muireann.”

“Exactly. That’s my point.” Olivia tapped the keyboard keys. “Here goes. What year was it, again?”

“Two thousand six. June two thousand six.”

“Right. Oh… there’s a match.”

“What? No. No way.” Fiona stared at the screen.

Olivia read the entry aloud. “Fiona Mary Byrne and Gavin Aloysius Maguire. Gavin’s middle name is Aloysius?”

The room tilted under Fiona’s feet. “This can’t be happening.”

Olivia drew back from the computer screen, her face a mirror of Fiona’s emotions. “Fee, what are you going to do?”

“WHAT DO YOU THINK?” Nora Fitzgerald, proprietor of The Black Tie, Ballybeg’s only suit rental establishment, stood back and admired her handiwork.

Gavin stared at his reflection in the shop mirror, poleaxed. “It…it’s…” he stuttered.

Jonas regarded it dubiously. “It fits. Which is probably its only redeeming feature.”

“I look like a character in an old John Travolta film.”

“You’re certainly rocking a seventies vibe.” Jonas’s voice cracked under the strain of repressing his laughter. “The matching boots are a great touch.”

Gavin looked down at the white, fur-trimmed boots and cringed. “Have you no other suit, Nora?” he asked, wide-eyed. “Anything except this one.”

Nora compressed her lips into a scarlet slash. “Sure, it’s hardly my fault you left it till the last minute, Gavin. It’s still wedding season, and the debs season is starting. I don’t have many suits in stock for men your height.”

“If I take it, we’ll need to double back to the cottage and get different shoes.”

Jonas pointed to his watch. “I hate to break it to you, mate. Your bride is due at the church in fifteen minutes, and you’re supposed to be there before her.”

“Fuck.” Gavin ran his hands through his hair. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“That’s terrible language to be coming out of a man on his wedding day,” said Nora, pretending to be shocked.

“Sorry, Nora.” Why hadn’t he remembered to wear a pair of formal shoes when he’d left the house? Now he was stuck with the prospect of wearing his runners, going barefoot, or keeping on the furry boots. He rubbed his chin. With everything that had gone wrong this morning, at least he’d remembered to shave.

Nora crossed her skinny arms over her bony chest. “Are you taking the outfit or not?”

“Fine,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll take it.”

If Muireann reacted the way he suspected she would, theirs would be a very short marriage.

Fiona stared at the computer screen. “Please tell me I’m hallucinating.”

“’Fraid not, Fee.”

“Surely to goodness they checked Gavin’s marital status before issuing his marriage license?”