Proper Irish (Jaded Lily #1)

by Zeia Jameson

  “This explains so much,” Kerry says while her eyes are glued to the news article she’s scrolling through on my laptop. The police interviewed us both early this morning, and although we both explained that we were no longer employees of Rachel, we were told to stay away from the office until further notice because of the investigation.

  “I guess it could,” I say, my mind racing over the details and past conversations and arguments we’d had with Rachel. “My mind is blown away. I mean, not in an attempt to defend her or anything, but maybe she was just there to hang out. Maybe they both were. Maybe they weren’t involved with the drugs at all. Maybe they’ll be released and that’ll be it.”

  “That’s a lot of maybes,” Kerry jokes.

  “Innocent until proven otherwise, right?”

  “Yeah, but even so, no one is ever going to hire her again. At least, not for a long time. What about all of those spring events she had planned?”

  I sit beside her on the couch. We’ve been hiding out in my apartment all day. After the detective left my house, I called Kerry to give her a heads-up, but another detective had already been there. I told her to come over so we could figure out what was going on. The news didn’t leave us curious for long.

  “I don’t know.” I place my hand on her arm in an attempt to ease her a little. “Even if we wanted to try to help, we can’t go to the office to look at everything she has planned or who she’s coordinated with. All we can do is separate ourselves from this mess and move on, even though people’s parties may be ruined. That’s Rachel’s mess to sort.”

  “But, Phillipe . . . ,” she starts.

  “Trust me; Phillipe will be fine. He’s not hurting financially. He can sue her for any outstanding contracts if he’s so inclined. He will find other work elsewhere.”

  Kerry takes a deep breath and nods.

  The thing that is most interesting about the entire ordeal is that each reporter, on TV and in print, made the point clear that not only is Victoria Seamus’s ex-wife, but that while Rachel had planned events for the mayor, she was promptly removed from the most recent St. Patrick’s Day event because of unprofessional behavior. The mayor was painted in a very good light across the board, which is a relief. His name and reputation don’t deserve to be dragged through the mud since he has no knowledge or involvement in the situation. It is quite fortunate that he kicked her out when he did, nearly a month ago. Almost coincidental.

  There’s an unexpected knock at my door. I pause my Netflix, walk over to the door, and peek to see who it is. I’m surprised and excited to see Padraig on the other side. I quickly unchain the door and flip the dead bolt. Upon opening the door, I jump in his direction and wrap my arms around his neck. “Hi! I thought you were out of town until tomorrow!”

  He returns my hug, kisses me, lifts me off the ground, and steps us into my apartment, closing the door behind us with his foot. He plants me back on the ground and puts his hands in my hair. His kiss deepens. I run my hand down his chest and then begin to move them under his shirt. He’s been gone almost a week for work, and I’ve missed him like crazy. Just as my hands make contact with his skin, he breaks our kiss and backs away. “Aoibhinn, mercy. You almost made me forget why I was here. I am thrilled you’re so happy to see me, though.”

  God, I’ve missed his voice.

  “You’re home early. Is everything okay?”

  “Aye. But I have a surprise for you. We have somewhere to be.”

  He pulls out a black silk swatch of fabric from his back pocket. “I’m going to need you to put this on first.”

  I cock my head and raise an eyebrow. “And what is that exactly?”

  “A blindfold.”

  “Um. No.”

  He laughs. “Come on. It’s a surprise. Don’t you trust me?”

  I cross my arms over my chest. This is peculiar and irregular behavior for him. But he’s still Padraig, not some random kidnapper.

  “Once the blindfold is on, how long do I have to wear it?”

  He shrugs. “No more than five minutes. We have to take a walk, but I won’t let you fall.”

  “A walk? You want me to walk the streets blindfolded? Absolutely not.”

  He wraps his strong hand around the back of my neck and pulls me in for a knee-weakening kiss. He pulls back and stares me down with those piercing green eyes.

  I huff. “Okay, fine.”

  I allow him to tie the scarf around my eyes, and my world goes dark. He is eerily quiet behind me, but I can feel his breath on my neck, and I can smell his Irish.

  The silence is uncomfortable to me. I suddenly realize I am not a fan of blindfolds.

  “How do you expect me to climb down a flight of stairs with no vision?” I ask, half joking, half serious.

  Almost instantly, I feel him press up against me as if he might kiss me. I run my hands up his torso but realize his back is facing me rather than his front, and I’m a little confused. “Hop on. I’ll carry you.”

  I smile and wrap my arms around his neck. Those five words were sexy as hell blindfolded. I jump up, and his arms come underneath my legs instantly, guiding them around his waist.

  “You’re going to carry me down the stairs?”

  “Aye. I plan to carry you the whole way. I wouldn’t want you to trip.”

  I squeeze my arms and legs tighter around him and rest my head on his back. “Giddyup, then,” I say with a giggle.

  “Yee-haw!” he responds with a ridiculous southern drawl. And we move. Out the door, down the stairs, and onto the street.

  It is true what people say about depriving one of your senses—your others heighten. I hear snickers and low comments from people all around me. I can only imagine what Padraig and I look like right now.

  “We’re here,” he says, stopping. He lets me down and settles me on my feet.

  “Wow. That was fast.” The blindfold was so disorienting that I cannot tell where we are or how far we traveled.

  He removes my blindfold and smooths my hair a bit. “Open your eyes.”

  I open them, and it takes a minute for my eyes to adjust to the light. But then, I see it. “Oh, Padraig!”

  “They put the sign up this morning.”

  Aoibhinn

  The sign on the front of the restaurant.

  The restaurant that Moira and Seamus have been feverishly working to put together the last few months.

  They purchased the property about a month after we found them fooling around in the kitchen. Even though Seamus is still mayor, he’s been working long hours in the restaurant, getting it ready to open.

  “I thought they were going to name it Moira’s.”

  “After a little convincing, they changed their minds.”

  “But why did you suggest to call it that?”

  “Because you brought them back together. You did this.”

  I shake my head. “Not really.”

  “Dad’s party. Mam catering. None of that would have happened without you.”

  “I’m flattered. I truly am, but . . . that’s the name of the restaurant. That’s kind of permanent. I mean, what if…?” I pause and look at him with worry.

  “What if what?” he asks with a smirk on his face.

  “I mean”—I point to the name of the restaurant—“that’s my . . . and what if we…?”

  I can’t get out a complete sentence. I’m flustered and a little panicked. Padraig gently grasps me with both hands by the side of my arms. “Calm down, please,” he says, still smirking. “Look at me. This is a tribute to you. You are the reason this restaurant exists. No matter what. It should have no other name but the one it has.”

  I nod, shakily. “Okay.”

  “Plus,” he adds with a pause.

  “Plus what?”

  He kisses me. A passionate kiss. There’s a sensation that’s more than physical. He’s speaking to me with this kiss. Trying to tell me something. After a few seconds pass, he pulls away.

  “Plus, I love you.”
>
  My eyes widen. I wonder if I heard him right.

  “You?” is all I can get out.

  He cups my head in his hands. “I love you. And for as long as you’ll have me, I want to be a part of your life. But no matter what, I want that sign right there to always remind us all what you did for this family.”

  I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him. I pull away and look into his eyes. “I love you, too. And I enjoy you being a part of my life.”

  We kiss again.

  Padraig chuckles. “Now that that is settled, let’s go eat. Mam and Dad are waiting for us. They’ve got dinner ready.”

  “Okay.”

  We enter the restaurant, and there is one dressed booth in the back corner. There is a candelabra on the table with candles lit. Moira and Seamus emerge from the back and embrace us both in hugs. “Do you like the sign outside?” Moira asks.

  “I love it,” I say. I look at the three of them, and tears prick my eyes. “Thank you.”

  “Thank you,” Seamus says. His eyes are filled with tears as well. We stand silent for a moment until Seamus claps his hands. “Okay. We have a beautiful meal prepared for the two of you.”

  “You aren’t going to join us?” I ask.

  “No, not tonight. Tonight is just for you two,” Moira says with a wink.

  I finish off my last bite of dessert. Everything was delicious, as Moira’s food always is. Padraig takes a swig of his beer, sets it down, and looks at me intensely.

  “What?” I ask.

  “I have something for you. A gift.”

  “Okay.” He’s being mysterious. It’s making me nervous.

  He stands and walks behind the bar. He bends down and lifts something large and flat wrapped in brown packing paper. He walks it over and lays it on an adjacent table. “Come here,” he says to me. I slide out of the booth and stand next to him. I look at him. He looks at me and then down at the gift. “Open it.”

  I reach with slight hesitation to the package and place my hand on the paper. I look back up at Padraig. “Go ahead,” he says. “Just rip it.”

  I find a folded edge and peel away the paper from what is wrapped underneath. I take a moment to gaze at what the gift is.

  “Padraig!” I move my hand to my mouth in astonishment. “This is beautiful.” I begin to cry. All the emotion of the evening has been pent up. I have to let it out finally. I turn to hug him tight. “How on earth did you do this? Is this from those pictures you took on the roof that night?”

  “Aye.”

  I look down at the framed image. It’s obvious that it’s the barge we saw that night, but it has abstraction to it. It gorgeous.

  Padraig snakes his arm around my waist. “I asked Zephyr for a favor. It took some time because of our work schedule, but I think it came out great. Exactly what I asked for.”

  “It’s perfect! I love it! Thank you, Padraig.” I turn to him and kiss him. “I love you.”

  “I love you.”

  1 year later

  I rush to Forsyth Park as fast as I can. Kerry just sent the most cryptic text to me about meeting her there and really needing to think about things. It was very unlike her. I enter the park and head toward the fountain. I see Sally and a few other people with baskets, gathered at the trees just before the fountain.

  “Stella, you made it,” she says as I approach. Before I have a chance to ask her what she means, she and all of the others hold out a single palm leaf rose to me.

  I’m a little startled by their behavior. “Thank you, Sally,” I say, trying not to sound rude. “But my friend is waiting for me . . .” I point toward the fountain.

  “We know, dear. And we made these especially for you. Go on. Take them.”

  I oblige so as not to cause a scene. I take each rose and bundle them together in my hand. Sally reaches out to me, places her hand on my shoulder, and nudges me toward the fountain. “As you were.”

  That was very strange, I think to myself. But as I begin to walk past the trees and into the clearing of the fountain, the weirdness increases. The man who plays the sax on River Street is sitting on a bench, playing “Moon River,” the song Padraig and I danced to by the river so long ago. Then I see Kerry. And Luca. And Seamus and Moira. And my parents! I’m beginning to feel this is some strange dream that I can’t make sense of.

  And then I see him. Padraig. Sitting on the edge of the fountain in slacks and a long-sleeved button-down shirt. His elbows are leaning on his knees. When we make eye contact, he smiles and stands, placing his hands in his pockets. He is so gorgeous. My heart skips a beat.

  I snap out of my trance and walk over to him. “What is all this?”

  Removing his hands from his pockets, he takes my hands into his. “Aoibhinn, you have changed my life in more ways than one. And in a way that I had never imagined. And now, I cannot imagine my life without you. I don’t want to imagine that. I know that I’m not perfect, but you make me feel perfect. I want your heart forever and all for my own.”

  He kneels and outstretches his arms in front of him, holding open a black velvet box with the most gorgeous ring I’ve ever seen. “You will make me an extremely happy man if you agree to put up with me for the rest of your life. Stella, will you marry me?”

  Tears instantly fill my eyes. I nod and smile. “Yes.”

  He places the ring on my finger. I take it all in.

  The band is silver and intricate in design, and in the center is a sparkly, square-cut emerald.

  Padraig stands. “I love you, Stella.”

  “I love you, too.”

  He kisses me, and applause erupts all around us. Then everyone comes in for a group hug, including the sax guy and Sally and her crew. Everyone takes a turn to give us individual hugs and congratulations and to admire the ring. We spend a good portion of the afternoon at the park, talking and spending time with everyone. Padraig has made this fountain my favorite spot for a completely different reason.

  “And now we eat!” Seamus exclaims. The entire lot of us heads to the restaurant and eat and drink and dance until the early hours of the morning.

  “This is breathtaking and more gorgeous than I could have imagined it,” I say, holding Padraig’s hand and overlooking the cliff into the horizon. The breeze is gentle, and below, you can hear the sound of the waves crashing into the wall of rocks. I’ve dreamed of this place many times.

  We’ve been in the small village of Cionn Caslach, Ireland, for six days—only two months after Padraig proposed. Padraig suggested we come here as soon as we could and get married. I had no problem accepting his request. Seamus and Moira came with us. They remarried three days ago in the small stone cathedral where they were married originally. Since Seamus left office and opened Aoibhinn with Moira, they have been nothing but happy. Seamus moved into Moira’s cozy condo and Padraig moved in with me.

  Victoria went to prison for four years for being an accessory to drug trafficking.

  Turns out she and Seamus were never legally married. It was all set up by his people to make him seem happy. The news had photographed and exploited Moira with a gentleman at a cafe for weeks. Still being heartbroken from Moira leaving him, even after all that time, and convinced that Moira had moved on, he did everything his staff told him to do. Seamus and Victoria never had a ceremony. They had simply signed the marriage paperwork and let the staff handle the rest. The media was told that Seamus and Victoria were married in a quiet and small ceremony. But the paperwork was never processed through the state. After Victoria was arrested, one of Seamus’s staff members finally produced the papers that were originally signed.

  Suffice it to say, a divorce wasn’t necessary. The administration kept it all under wraps so as not to alert the media. The public was told that Seamus divorced Victoria because of irreconcilable differences before she was arrested. Seamus officially announced a short time after Victoria’s arrest that he wouldn’t be running for reelection, his staff citing to the press that the publicity of his ex-wife’
s scandal was too much for him to handle to continue to serve as mayor. The public seemed to buy it. Then Seamus quietly stepped away after the invocation of the new mayor.

  Rachel got a year of probation. She promptly dismantled what was left of her business, and no one has seen or heard from her since. Kerry and I spent a lot of time helping Moira and Seamus get Aoibhinn ready for opening.

  One afternoon, I got a call from a former client of Rachel’s, asking if I still did events. I told her no, but after heavy persuasion and a price I couldn’t turn down, I agreed to plan her daughter’s engagement party. Kerry agreed to help. Moira and Phillipe were thrilled to assist. And when I visited Matilda and asked if she’d help with the party, she jumped up and down and nearly knocked me to the ground with a huge hug. Kerry and I have been drumming up a great clientele, working out of my apartment for the time being. We handle mostly small, quaint events—nothing too stressful—but we have done a few swanky events as well. It keeps us plenty busy, but the stress level is minimal.

  Kerry and Luca, finally made their relationship public. They are crazy about each other. She’s since gotten three tattoos from him.

  They flew to Ireland with us as well, along with my parents, because Padraig and I were married today. In the exact spot where we’re standing right now. It was a beautiful ceremony. We’ll stay a few more days and enjoy Ireland with our friends and family. Then, they’ll all head back home, while Padraig and I spend an indefinite time traveling through Europe. Kerry is more than fully capable of running the show while I’m gone. Padraig promised Zephyr he’d take plenty of photos while we explore so that he’d have plenty of pieces to work with for his next show.

  “Not as gorgeous as you, Aoibhinn. Nothing ever could be.”