Page 33 of On The Rocks

Her other-worldly blue irises, bright with unshed tears, flicked between mine, and she nodded.

The priest’s voice rang out. “Dearly beloved, you have come together into the house of the Church?—”

Shannon’s giggle floated toward me, and she murmured, “Jesus, she looks like a girl nerd from a bad eighties movie. I wouldn’t go out in public looking like that.”

Maeve’s face crumpled, and my heart seized at her humiliation.

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t put Maeve through this shitshow. It wasn’t right.

My neck twisted toward Father Michael, and my words rang loud and true. “Stop the wedding.”

Gasps filled the air.

“Callum,” Donovan said in a warning tone from behind me.

“I know what I’m doing,” I retorted, turning toward the congregation. My head swiveled toward the front pew where Paddy sat, glaring at his daughters. Then I watched, fascinated, as my words registered somewhere in his psyche, and his head jerked in my direction.

A look passed between us.

“Get them out!” I snarled.

He stood up. “Callum?—”

“Get them out, or the wedding’s off,” I threatened, meaning every damned word. This marriage was in no way a traditional one, and Maeve wasn’t a conventional bride, but that didn’t mean they could make her the butt of their jokes. It was bordering on abuse.

My stare swept through the two front pews filled with the people, who minutes before had laughed at my bride. The same people who sat there on her wedding day, pretending to supporther, but who still looked down on her because some nasty, jealous bitches had played a cruel prank and humiliated her.

The burn in my chest intensified. “I want everybody out,” I roared. “The only ones staying are my immediate family, Patrick and Liam. The rest of you can leave. The reception’s canceled, too. The second the ceremony’s over, we’re outta here.”

Chaos descended as people stood from their seats and began to throw angry looks and even obscenities at me.

Father Michael signed the shape of the Holy Cross over his chest.

“I spent a week planning that reception,” Orla bitched, glaring in my direction.

My lip curled. “Does my face look like I give a flying fu?—”

“Callum!” Ma shrieked. “Not in the house of God.”

Donovan barked a laugh.

I closed my mouth, folding my arms across my chest, and stared down what seemed like every fucker in that room as they stood, throwing clipped words at me, acting all offended.

“Are you deaf or just stupid?” I bellowed. “I said, get out!”

More grumbles went up, and I watched the entire two rows gather their shit, get to their feet, and make for the doors.

The sounds of an argument caught my attention, and my stare slashed toward Patrick, who quietly spoke to his wife and daughters. Although his tone was low, I was in no doubt his words were heated, seeing as his expression conveyed he was almost as fucking furious as me.

“You okay, bro,” T murmured, sidling up beside me.

“I will be when those assholes get the fuck outta here,” I muttered, turning to Maeve. “You okay, sweetheart?”

Her eyes were still on me, but instead of shining with tears, they shone with something else.

“Holy moly,” she breathed. “That wasawesome!” She turned to Donovan. “Did youseethat?” She folded her arms across herchest, parroting me from a moment before. “Does my face look like I give a flying fudge?”

My lips twitched.

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