Lucky This Isn't Real: MacBride Brothers Series St. Patrick's Day Fake Fiance Romance

by Jamie Knight

  “What’s that?”

  “We have to wash our hands of him. Tell him from here on out he’s on his own.”

  Eoin reared back like I’d threatened to stab him.

  “No one cares; no one but me,” he said, “and I can’t even figure out why. Are you angry about what he used to be like? You and Jim are always so busy with work, you didn’t even notice he was sick again.”

  It was almost cute, how dedicated he was, except that more than that, it was sad. He clearly had yet to realize that dad was just the way he was and would repeat the same cycle over and over again.

  We had all seen it before and had had more time to deal with it than Eoin had. Even Jim, who was only a couple of years older than Eoin, had realized there was nothing we could do.

  I didn’t want dad to die, either. The difference was, I knew there was nothing to be done about it, and I was no longer convinced that dad himself could break the cycle.

  I really did believe it when he said he wanted to get clean. But that wasn’t enough to make it happen. In some ways, he was his own worst enemy.

  “I know it sucks, Eoin, but he’s the only one who can help himself,” I repeated. “We all just have to do what we’re going to do. I don’t want dad to die either, but there’s not much to be done.”

  Eoin never ceased to surprise me. That instance was no exception. My little brother, who was actually taller than me, hugged me and started to sob again.

  On the upside, I think he might have finally been struck by the reality of the situation, and, as I’d feared, it hurt. Still, better sooner than even later.

  “When he gets here with Jim, I’ll keep an eye on him. If he’s drinking again, he won’t be able to hide it from Gavin or me. We know the signs.”

  Eoin nodded, but I could tell he wasn’t convinced.

  His accusation did stick with me, though. Maybe I did work so much to escape the possible heartache.

  Reality can’t get to you if you ignore it, right?

  Alas, I was a bit too old to honestly believe that anymore. I’d missed the signs of our dad’s relapse and let an emergency at work pull me away from Darcy just as we were getting started. Even though work was far from the worst vice in the world, my priorities were going to need some serious review.

  It was a bit tight, but we managed to make another place at the table for Maggie, who had been welcomed with open arms. Of course, my brothers and I had already met her, but that didn’t mean they had to like her. Luckily, we all did, and Aunt Tricia loved her like a daughter.

  As for Dad— he was definitely on the sauce again, though it wasn’t quite so obvious of a downward spiral. Either his tolerance had gone up, or he had learned to drink in something resembling moderation. There was a lot to be said for small improvements. Particularly when they grew and accumulated into a big change.

  I didn’t hold out too much hope. But an eventual recovery to some extent did seem a little more possible than before.

  “So, what do you think of Belfast?” Aunt Tricia asked Darcy when the prayers were said, and the bread was broken.

  “It’s beautiful. I love it here! Sean drove us out to Dunluce Castle this afternoon. It was even better than I’d imagined. I mean, I’d seen footage on PBS and stuff, but it was nothing like the real thing.”

  “Funny, I’m starting to feel the same way about L.A.,” I said. “When I get more time off work, I’d like to go back to visit and see more of it.”

  “See more of Darcy, you mean,” Gavin said, with a cheeky wink.

  “Who’s this then?” Aunt Tricia asked, going into mama bear mode.

  “My best friend Darcy,” Maggie said in a distinctly teasing tone. “She’s as starry-eyed as Sean.”

  There was a flurry of hoots and whistles around the table, with even Dad and Eoin joining in the fun.

  “Oh, good, another American sister-in-law,” Patrick said, the sarcasm dripping from his words.

  “I’m not sure if we can make a tenth place at the table. I might have to get the leaf out,” Aunt Tricia said.

  “Or we could set up a kiddie table for Jim and Eoin,” Gavin suggested.

  “Fuck off, Gav,” Eoin and Jim said in unison.

  “Language!” Aunt Tricia chided, giving them both a loving smack.

  “Sorry,” they chorused.

  “It’s fine,” Maggie said, trying not to laugh.

  I’d been the recipient of our aunt’s hand a few times myself, but it was nowhere near abuse. I could barely feel it, not that I was going to say so. I seriously doubted she was really trying to hurt us. It was just a gentle reminder of the rules in her house.

  We were free to act as we pleased out in the world, but she was the queen within those four walls. Not even Dad talked back to her. If it wasn’t for her, our family would have fallen apart after our mother passed. She was the backbone the six of us needed.

  “Honestly, I’m happy you and Darcy got along so well,” Maggie said, “and you’re welcome to come back and stay with us any time.”

  “I definitely will, and soon,” I said.

  I was already itching to get back to the States— and to Darcy.

  Chapter Seven - Sean

  Three Months Later

  Nerves chomped at my stomach. Today was the day. A few weeks ago, I’d decided I wouldn’t wait any longer. I had people I trusted to take care of the shop.

  I had to see her.

  I had to be with her.

  I hadn’t told Darcy any of this this, hoping to pleasantly surprise her with my reappearance.

  Gavin and Maggie thought I was coming to visit them, but the reality was, it was all about Darcy.

  Most respectable physicists agreed that time was a relative concept, and each individual experienced it a bit differently. Several factors could affect this, and the theme was also relative.

  I tried to remember that. Darcy was always on my mind as I did. Sitting in the same corner of my inner realm, waiting for me to look her way, always smiling. It was almost like we were ordained by fate to be together.

  There was something almost spooky about our connection. Not only when we were together but even when we were apart. It was becoming more and more obvious as we emailed each other.

  I, of course, didn’t think to ask Darcy for her email before leaving, and I didn’t ask Maggie before she and Gavin left to return stateside. I’d gotten it eventually by texting Gavin and asking him to ask Maggie.

  The problem with us both working so hard was that it didn’t leave much time for regular emails, with us sometimes going a week between messages. Still, every instance was a little bit of heaven. Seeing her name attached to a new message gave me a jolt of excitement unlike almost any before.

  With the eight-hour time difference between us, Facetime didn’t always work out. I’d toyed with the idea of asking her for some intimate photos, but I didn’t want to be that forward.

  I was also pretty old-fashioned in some ways, preferring that when I saw her naked, we’d be in the same room. It felt more personal that way and allowed for all sorts of fun activities to do together.

  As usual, with impossible situations, I tried to put things into perspective by comparing the time I had to wait to see her again with the time I would have with her when I got back to California. Not only in terms of length of each period but also in terms of the happiness each would bring. Quality over quantity and all that.

  At least I hoped that saying was true because while it looked like it would be a good long while before I could hold Darcy in my arms again, I also felt it would be more than worth it, the time apart melting away as soon as I was able to see and touch her.

  I hoped she would want to kiss again. There was no guarantee. Perhaps I’d built the entire thing up in my head. I truly hoped not.

  Through some truly sterling tactics and maneuvers that would put Baby Driver to shame, I made it to the airport just in time to get molested by security before boarding the multi-hour, one-stop flight from
Belfast to LAX. I crossed not only the divide of the Atlantic but the whole of the North American continent as well, certainly not swimming the seas or walking a thousand miles but instead via the modern, millennial equivalent of doing everything I could to get to my love.

  Chapter Eight - Sean

  It had been three months since I’d first flown to L.A., but I still remembered almost every detail, particularly of the airport, which was nearly as sad as it was odd. Getting a taste of the excitement I’d felt waiting for them in Belfast, Gavin and Maggie were there to meet me as I emerged from the walkway into the arrivals area.

  “Welcome back!” Maggie enthused, giving me a big hug.

  “Thanks, sis.”

  “Not necessary,” Gavin grumped.

  “I think that’s up to her, don’t you?”

  That shut him up immediately. I would have thought he’d be happy for me to think of Maggie as my sister, which I was actually starting to, so I hadn’t only said that to make her feel good or him feel weird. Since they were married, and he was my brother, that would make her my sister of sorts.

  “Get over here, you.”

  Maggie released me from her warm embrace, and I immediately switched gears to bro mode, giving Gavin the hug version of a handshake.

  Then we grabbed my bags and left the airport. Once we were on the street, I realized I’d forgotten how insane L.A. traffic could be, particularly on the freeway, that first word of the compound phrase taken a bit too literally, as well as liberally, by the locals.

  The odd structure of the thing didn’t help much. Had I to drive myself, I’d be lost or dead. People on the roads were insane.

  Thankfully, I’d had Maggie to steer me through both times I’d arrived. Despite her agreeable demeanor, she took to the car chaos like a seagull floating on a sea gust.

  “You can open your eyes now,” Gavin said.

  “Oh,” I replied, releasing my death grip on the door handle.

  Their place was much as I remembered it, though I wasn’t sure what changes could be made in the three months since I had been gone. It was still big and luxurious looking compared to our house back in Ireland. Gavin was certainly doing well for himself in the States.

  “Do you remember where the guest room is?” Maggie asked me.

  “I think so.”

  After getting my bag that was packed pretty heavily with enough stuff for an indeterminate stay off my shoulder, I cracked my neck and sat on the bed, trying to make myself comfortable. Not at home, not yet.

  It was still too early for that. I was far too aware of the social convention and most folk’s reaction to know what a crock of cobblers the phrase ‘make yourself at home’ was. I didn’t think it was said with self-aware malice.

  For the most part, it was almost always meant well, even if the exact definition was somewhat vague. Surely the host didn’t mean to literally make yourself at home, like bringing your own food that you like best, showering with the door open, or going to breakfast wearing nothing but your underwear— all things that were okay to do when you were at home, particularly if you lived alone, as I did.

  In some ways, the phrase ‘make yourself at home’ was almost self-aware, though, acknowledging the indefinable, sometimes logical discomfort people feel when occupying other people’s space.

  It basically meant, ‘I know you have natural, indefinable discomfort being here right now, but I’ve invited you, so it’s fine. Feel free to increase your comfort level to the point you no longer feel like an intruder.’

  But I did plan to eventually make myself at home here, at least temporarily— however long it took to claim Darcy as my own, like I’d wanted to do ever since I first met her.

  ***

  The process of integration took exactly two days. Forty-eight hours of acute awareness of everything I was doing, trying to make sure I didn’t put out a foot wrong, even though I knew neither Gavin nor Maggie would care if I did.

  By the end of the second day, we were hanging out like I’d always been there. I tried to figure out how to ask when I might be able to see Darcy again.

  They both knew about my interest, of course, and seemed to take it somewhat seriously, despite the good-natured ribbing. But I still didn’t want to come right out and say, ‘So, when will I be seeing Darcy?,’ as though that was my sold motivation for being here.

  It wasn’t the only reason but it was the main reason, though I didn’t want to actually say that.

  “Did you send out the invites to the preview party?” Maggie asked Gavin at breakfast on the third morning.

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks, darlin’.”

  They kissed tenderly, one of the things that had changed after we’d gotten comfortable. They’d touched in my presence the first few days, likely because Gavin still saw me as his little brother, despite him only being two years older than me, the first three brothers born in fairly rapid succession.

  I couldn’t really blame my mother for wanting to take a break after that. There was nearly an eight-year age difference between Jim and me. Ten between Eoin and me. It was nice to see Gavin get over his slight reticence and show sincere love for his wife.

  “I didn’t get an invite,” I joked.

  “I didn’t think you needed one,” Maggie said, sounding a tad defensive. “You’re already here, and of course, you’re invited.”

  “He’s kidding, sweetheart,” Gavin said.

  Her cheeks flushed. “Oh.”

  “What’s the party for?” I asked.

  “It’s a viewing party for the first episode of season 3,” Gavin explained. “All of our friends are coming.”

  He grinned in my direction, leaving Darcy’s name unsaid. But my heart took in what my ears didn’t hear, and I could feel it beating with excitement in my chest.

  Chapter Nine - Sean

  As guests arrived, I did my best to act casual, making it look like I was greeting them and taking their coats and trying to be lovely and helpful while also checking to see if the newest arrival happened to be Darcy.

  For the best part of a week, I hadn’t told her I was here. It was killing me. The reason was mostly that I didn’t want to offend Maggie and Gavin by letting them know the real reason I’d come.

  But there was another reason I tried to hit head on— my stupid fucking fear.

  A small part of me asked itself, What if Darcy didn’t want to have anything to do with me? What if the fantasy was better than reality?

  But a bigger part of me told that smaller part to shut the fuck up because I knew that Darcy and I were meant to be together. And I wasn’t going to doubt what I felt in my bones, in my soul.

  So, I planned to tell her soon, even if she wasn’t here tonight, although I was really hoping she would be.

  Amy and Nicole arrived together. I’d met them at the wedding, but we really hadn’t had an opportunity to talk much. Gavin seemed to know them pretty well, though.

  The flow of guests continued in much the same fashion, with many more American voices joining the crowd. It was a bit overwhelming at first, but I soon got used to it, having gotten some practice at the wedding, despite mostly sticking with my brothers when I wasn’t with Darcy.

  “Sean?” I suddenly heard the voice of my dreams say— although, finally, it was in reality that she was speaking. “Oh, my God. You’re here? Is it really you?”

  I whirled around so fast I nearly fell over, making Darcy laugh. The sound was like crystal wind chimes in a light summer breeze. To my ears, at least.

  “Yes, surprise!” I told her. “I’m here and it’s really me. Can I take your coat?”

  I wanted to say, ‘Can I kiss you?’ but I wasn’t sure we were ready for that yet. We were both still interested, at least going by our intermittent correspondence, but it had been over three months since our last kiss, and I didn’t want to rush her.

  “If you insist,” she said, with an adorable little sigh. “I can’t believe you’re here. It’s almost unr
eal. You should have told me.”

  “I wanted it to be a surprise.”

  “And it is. A lovely one.”

  “I’ll be right back. I can’t wait to see more of your gorgeous face finally.

  “Same!” she said, looking truly excited as well.

  I went and put Darcy’s coat in the bedroom where Maggie had instructed me to lay them on the bed. As I did so, I caught a whiff of her sexy, flowery scent that had permeated the fabric and was even more motivated to get back out to her as soon as I could.

  As soon as I saw her again, my eyes trailed over her curvy body and I thought about how much I wanted to take off her red blouse and black pants. In response, her eyebrow curved up at me as if knowing exactly what I wanted, and letting me know that she wanted it, too.

  “Would you like a drink?” I asked.

  “They’re not making you be a server, are they?”

  “No, no, I volunteered, kinda. I like to be of service when and where I can.”

  She smiled shyly.

  “Very admirable. I’ll have a small glass of wine, please.”

  “Right away, love,” I said, bowing cordially before heading to the kitchen.

  Darcy hadn’t said if she preferred red or white, and I hadn’t asked. This situation led to me holding two different wine bottles in the kitchen as the party went on without me.

  “What’s up?” Maggie asked, strolling in.

  “Darcy asked for wine. I don’t know if she likes white or red.”

  “It can change according to her mood, though I don’t think either will put her off you. If you want to play it safe, go with the white. It’s what she drinks when she’s happy.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No problem. Need a hand getting the cork out?”

  “I think I’ve got it. I’ve opened one or two of these before.”

  Pouring half a glass, hoping the amount counted as small and Darcy wouldn’t think I was trying to get her drunk, I returned to the swing of things. Darcy was easy to spot, even in a crowd, and I felt excited as I once again stood near her.