Providence Series Books 5-7

by Mary B. Moore

  And now, I had to listen to Tony explaining to Finlay how he’d seen almost all of the girl’s ‘taco’s’ and that he wouldn’t be hanging around with Sabine when she got closer to the ‘hammer hitting the gong’ because he was vetoing Taco Bell.

  Just one normal day, just one, that's all I'd asked for.

  “No one will be seeing her taco,” I wheezed out around the tie. I’d meant it as a snap, but this shit really was tight.

  “Wrong, amigo,” Cole muttered as he fixed his own tie. “There will be a lot of nurses and a doctor who will be down the busy end.”

  I hadn’t thought of that. What if the doctor was male? Would he have to put his hand inside her? And why was I thinking about this when I should be thinking about the fact that I was getting married today? Oh yeah, because of fucking Cole – as always.

  Glaring at him and feeling anxious as hell, I walked over to the windows and looked out at the area surrounding us. It really was beautiful even if it was cold.

  “You okay?” Tom asked from behind me. Turning around, I saw he had a glass of something amber in his hand. “You looked a bit nervous, so I got you this.” He held it up and jiggled it, the ice clinking off the sides of the glass.

  “Thanks, man.” I grabbed the glass and drank it down in one, wheezing as the fire took hold in my throat and chest.

  “Another?” Reaching over to a small table beside us, he picked up a bottle of what I saw was Dalmore Scottish Whiskey.

  Nodding, I held my glass up as he poured, and then swallowed around the burning that was still in my throat, but had now travelled down into my stomach too. This one joined it and amplified it by ten. “Holy shit, the Scots make it strong.”

  After four more though, my nerves were gone and I was ready to get this show on the road. I went to walk past Tom when something caught my eye. Looking through the room and then down at myself, I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw my pants.

  “Why are y’all wearing skirts?”

  Sniffing, Tom fiddled with his and answered, “They’re kilts, you imbecile. And Mom made us wear them.”

  Shaking my head and grinning, I thanked Shmog himself, no wait, is it Shmog? Shmod? Fuck it, the big guy upstairs for being mom’s favorite kid so that I wasn’t wearing one. They looked awesome as hell, but regardless of what I’d drunk in the last half hour, I still had the presence of mind that my wedding pictures would be on display for life and that I wouldn’t be wearing stilts. Wait…why was I thinking about stilts again?

  At that moment, there was a knock at the door, and an old man poked his head around it after Coleman opened it.

  “Mornin’,” he muttered as he entered the room.

  “Look Tom, he walks like you,” Cole whispered, getting a glare from Tom.

  “You ready, pal?” He asked as he looked me over. I had no nerves whatsoever, but I was being strangled by the clothing I was wearing, so I gave him a strained nod and smile. “Aye, come oan then. We’ll have a wee blether while we go.”

  Following him out, he started talking about anything and everything as we walked. I was too focused on breathing and kept tugging at my collar to pay much attention. He waved us into the hall, which was beautiful, and I danced over to stand where Mom told me to.

  As the men got into position, I saw the women eyeing their husbands and licking their lips, making me shudder.

  “Are we taking these home with us?” Mom whispered loudly to Dad who gave her a wink.

  Gramps decided to give his input on wearing a kilt. “Ya know, my balls aren’t used to having a draft. I mean, pants keep them all tucked away like a mouse in its house, but here they’re just blowing free.” He added a little hip gyration that would have made me gag if my collar wasn’t restricting most of the movement in my throat. “I think I like it.”

  “I know I like it,” Gram purred from where she was sitting, looking him up and down.

  Unfortunately, I was now well on the road to perfectly sober and the nerves were coming back full force.

  “Here,” Tom handed me a little silver flask out of the purse thing around his waist getting another snort from me. “Fuck off, it’s a traditional thing called a Spurnan.”

  “Sporran,” the old guy corrected making us both jump. Where the hell did he come from?

  “Look, though. I have a cool knife in my sock,” Tom lifted a leg and I caught a glimpse of the knife in question. I thought knives were illegal here?

  “The bride will be here in five minutes. Take your places, please.” The old man announced and then disappeared back into a crypt or something.

  Now, the nerves were almost overwhelming. So, unscrewing the cap, I drank as much down as I could. After stopping for a breath of air, I finished what was inside the flask. Once you got past the initial feeling of magma being poured down your throat, it wasn’t half bad.

  “You got another?” I asked as I passed it back to Tom who was looking at me like I’d just stolen his last marshmallow. The guy was territorial as fuck over the weirdest things.

  “That was at least three full glasses worth,” he muttered. “Now what am I gonna do?”

  “Not be such a cheap bitch next time and bring a real amount with you instead of a shot glass full?” I suggested. I thought it was a valid point. Who just brings a mouthful of alcohol with them?

  Now, I wasn’t even feeling nervous. I was excited, and sweating slightly, but that was to be expected. That shit was like lava!

  Just as I tried to take a breath in, the music started and I saw Sabine coming towards me. She looked like a fairy princess as she walked with a huge smile on her face.

  The next thing I realized, we were being asked to say our vows.

  “I, Angélique Sabine d’Arvor,” she started, only to be interrupted by Gramps.

  “Wait, I thought her name was Sabine?” He asked Grams so loudly that we all turned and glared at him. Giving us an encouraging nod to continue, she grabbed his ear and whispered furiously into it. Sabine went by her middle name because she felt her first name was ostentatious, we all knew this, but the old shit just had to forget at this precise moment.

  Grinning at my woman, I said the only thing that was in my head. “You’re so pretty.”

  Looking at me and doing a double take when she saw the grin on my face, she cleared her throat, she started again. “I, Angélique Sabine d’Arvor,” she did a quick glance at Gramps, raising an eyebrow. He gave her a thumbs up and she continued. “I promise to be your best friend and have your back, regardless. Well, most of the time,” she gave me a wry smile. Yeah, family feud’s aside, I got it. “I promise to let you fight your own battles, especially on the Xbox. I can’t promise to share the covers and hot water, but I’ll try. I promise to love your family as if they were my own…”

  I was the one who interrupted her this time. “For the love of all things holy, don’t do that! Wait, is this a church? Does this count in America too? She didn’t mean it!”

  Sighing and crumbling up the piece of paper, she looked me straight in the eyes and said, ”I promise to be with you through thick and thin, and to love you every step of the way.”

  Then it was my turn. Patting my pockets, I looked for a piece of paper but couldn’t find one. In fact, I wasn’t even sure what was meant to be on the paper, but she’d said such pretty things to me that I wanted to say some back, so I decided to wing it.

  “I, Brett Joseph Townsend,” I began, knowing full well that my asshole brothers would burst out laughing.

  “His initials are BJ,” my fucking grandfather chortled loudly. “That was a good one,” he reached round and smacked my dad on the back. I was still sure he’d given me and Tom our names out of badness even though he swore he hadn’t. At least I wasn’t Tom though – the thought made a strangled giggle burst out of me, making Sabine’s eyes narrow as she took in whatever didn’t seem right on my face.

  Swaying slightly, I patted my pockets again looking for something, but I wasn’t sure what. Oh shit, pretty
words.

  “Nope,” I popped the p, purely because I really was drunk now. “No paper, imma gonna wing it,” I winked at the lady officiating who looked like she was watching a science experiment. “I, Brett Joseph Townsend, promise to save you if what happens in those natural disaster movies, you know like Armageddon or The Day After Tomorrow, happens. Wait, but not your parents,” I pointed my finger sternly in the direction of where her and her…twin were standing. When did she get a twin? “They’re mean and they smell.” I finished, and then thought of a winner. “Oh, and I’ll play you Aerosmith during it because they sing pretty songs.” Tapping my chin, I thought of the next one. “I promise to cuddle you every morning, even when your breath stinks, because I love your boobies,” I pointed at the pair in question, on both her and her twin again, because I didn’t want to leave the twin out. “I promise to never tell you ‘yes’ when you ask if something makes your ass look fat. Even if it’s that red dress that just looks bad.” Holy shit, this was freaking easy! “I also promise to love you even when you do those tiny little farts in your sleep. Oh, oh, oh, oh, and I promise to always give you a complement, even if you’re wearing the red dress. But seriously, it just looks…”

  “Brett!” Maya and my sister, Layla, hissed, stopping me.

  Oh, yay, Layla was here!

  “What? You’re interrupting my love words here,” I snapped at them. I mean come the hell on, I was on a roll. “What was I saying? Oh yeah, um,” I tapped my chin again. “Is there anything else?”

  “Oh, please let there be more,” Tony whined out, sounding like he was crying. It was hard to tell over the snorting and wheezing noises coming from where my brothers, Dad and Gramps were sitting.

  Focusing back on Sabine and her twin…holy shit there was a third? Blinking, I looked at Sabine and suddenly remembered what I wanted to say. “I promise to love you. Will you marry me? Please say yes! If you say no it will make me sad all day.” She pinched my arm and looked over at the lady who was standing there watching everything silently. I wasn’t sure if she was laughing or crying either. “Oh, we’re getting married?” At the slow nod from the woman, I turned back to Sabine with a huge grin. “Goody. I take her,” I said firmly and indicated toward Sabine. “You may now proceed.”

  Sabine burst into tears and continued crying as we exchanged rings and signed the register thingy and certificates. They were obviously the happiest tears in the world. She only stopped when we beat the crap out of the anvil with the hammer. Then Layla, who had flown in the night before, walked up with a fancy little decorative bag which, when she opened it, was full of freaking chocolate fingers.

  My little chocolate finger munching princess was now Mrs. Townsend. My wife! Fuck, I needed a nap!

  Two hours later...

  My head was killing me and I’d never been so dehydrated in my life. Waking up on one of the benches in the hall that I remembered, after a couple of seconds of confusion, that I’d gotten married in had been hell. It was hard as a rock and my side felt like someone was twisting a knife in it where I’d been shot. What the fuck had happened?

  Knowing I needed to find my family, I walked carefully out of the hall and almost screamed when I hit the daylight. I needed to find some Aspirin or industrial strength painkillers as soon as possible.

  Remembering that we were having a meal at the venue’s restaurant, I walked in its direction and sighed with relief when I got out of the sun and into the darker room. That was until I looked and saw the glares on the faces of the women, including my beautiful wife’s.

  Oh, fuck my life. I was going to kill Tom.

  “He did it,” I pointed at Tom as I sat down heavily in the empty seat beside Sabine.

  All of the women's heads snapped in his direction and the previously smirking ass nugget sank down into his seat.

  “He was nervous…” he tried. “I didn’t know that being in Scotland got you drunk quicker like when you drink at a high altitude?” That was a lie and everyone else knew it. Scotland wasn’t at a higher altitude like that. “Cole made me do it!” He squealed, before getting out of his chair and running across the room. We watched as he ran out of the door, then ran back in and grabbed one of the plates that the waitress was bringing in our direction, before turning and running out again.

  Cole was laughing and shaking his head as he turned back to the table. Looking up, he took in all of the daggers being glared in his direction now. “Can you believe that guy? I mean, who would get their brother drunk before his wedding?” The end of it was almost inaudible as he whispered it and then gulped. With a long drawn out sigh as the plates were put down in front of everyone, he sank down into his seat and muttered, “You can’t hit me, I’m pregnant.”

  My wife must have ordered for me, because the waitress put a plate with a huge steak and mashed potatoes on it down in front of me. I wasn’t that hungover that I couldn’t inhale a big fat steak - something no man ever would or had been since the dawn of the fucking awesome that was steak.

  As I lifted the first mouthful up, there was a squeal followed by something thudding the bottom of the table making all of our glasses shake. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Cole reach under the table to wrestle with something, his neck visibly straining above the death collar on his shirt as he fought with whatever it was.

  Then, Ebru’s hand with her fork in it, appeared back on the table and accompanied a huge beaming grin across her face.

  Shit head deserved that.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sabine

  M ost wives maybe would have been upset with their husband getting so drunk that they passed out on their wedding day, but to me, it was an endearing characteristic of the Townsends to do something like that. I especially liked the fact that Ebru and Maya had been recording the ceremony, so now everyone got to witness it. Unfortunately, so did my sister, Seline.

  I’d called Seline and asked her if she could come, but she couldn’t get away from my parents who were even more vigilant after my departure, even all of these years later. Instead, Maya and Ebru had said that they would record it and we’d sent it to Seline to watch.

  During the dinner, Brett had been messaging on his phone and I’d been about to elbow him when he’d turned around and had asked everyone to be quiet. Actually, it had been a quick ‘shut the fuck up for two fucking seconds’. Then he’d balanced his phone against a floral table arrangement at the end of the table as he FaceTime’d someone.

  When she’d answered, all of the women burst into tears because they knew how much I missed her and there was no doubting who she was considering how alike we looked. Then, she had given a speech, holding up a cup of coffee and whispering it from her room. She had seen the video by that point, so she couldn’t help mentioning my boobs and that she would have no issues telling me that my backside looked big in dresses if Brett wasn’t around when I needed the answer.

  Brett had also promised both of us that we’d go to France as soon as he could arrange it, especially after her nephew was born. I hadn’t been able to get through to her before now and I wanted to break the news to her and hear her response, and that had been the most perfect way to do it. She’d burst into tears and had started speaking to me in French, rapidly firing off questions and suggestions. He might have given history’s most questionable vows today and then passed out, but my husband was without a doubt the most amazing man in the world.

  Brett growling and wheezing got my attention as he struggled to undo the collar of his shirt. I had warned him that sizes were slightly different here than in the U.S., but he hadn’t listened and had paid the price for it. All night he’d been tugging at the collar, even after he’d undone the top button.

  “What the hell do they do to men here? No one could survive with collars like this,” with a final tug, a button missile when flying across the room. The loud sigh of relief from my husband as he then took in a big breath of oxygen was hilarious.

  “I think today went…” I searched for a
word to describe the day.

  “I’m sorry,” he groaned as he walked toward me. “I was nervous and I thought you wouldn’t come. I also couldn’t sleep for shit last night because you weren’t there.” Aw merde, that was despicably adorable. I hadn’t been angry at him since dinner, but those words completely erased any of the remaining tension caused by my husband discussing my boobs, backside and ‘tiny farts’ in his vows. I wasn’t going near that last one with a bargepole, though. I wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth on that, or if he was just drunk, but I wanted to forget that it had ever happened. “So, when Tom gave me the whiskey I just drank it. I didn’t mean to get drunk!”

  He plopped down on the bed next to where I was now standing trying to figure out how to get out of my dress. It was an empire waisted Jane Austen style dress that gathered under my breasts and had intricate beading sewn along the top of it. I hadn’t wanted anything to press against my stomach, so this just floated over it. The back had a zip that stopped where the beading began, and then it had a row of tiny little buttons which I couldn’t reach.

  “Can you help me?” I turned my back to him so that he could see the issue.

  “I can try,” he started tugging at the top button. “Holy shit, did they use elves or something to do these up?” I burst out laughing because they really were that small. “Maybe I should use tweezers? I think my fingers are too fat.” He finally got the top button undone after tugging at it a bit more. “Yas, wait, shit there’s like twenty more!” A small panel of fabric covered the other buttons from sight, so the sound of frustration in his voice was understandable. After more tugging and cursing, he finally got to the last one. “He’s a slippy little fucker,” he muttered. “Ah fuck it!” He’d obviously reached the maximum on his patience and just ripped the button off and threw it across the room before undoing the zipper on my dress.