Page 76 of Wild Irish

“Yes.” It comes out as a sob.

The crowd around us cheers and claps, but my only focus is her. I take her hand and slip the ring on her finger, then kiss her hard.

When I pull back, I swallow past the lump of emotion that sits in my throat, and trace my thumb along the curve of her bottom lip.

And I let go completely. Let go of the pain and anger that’s held me back from loving completely. Let go of cynicism that was always a barrier between us.

I can feel her own walls fracturing, dissipating.

Every piece of me belongs to her.

When the limo pulls up to the curb, I grab her hand and pull her towards the car, ushering her in. She’s still trembling when I get in beside her, a small frown tugging at the corner of her lips, and I can practically see the wheels spinning inside that pretty head of hers.

I tip her chin, and brush my lips against hers. “What are ye thinking?”

“That I love you.” Her palm rests on my chest, and I wonder if she can feel the erratic beat of my heart. “And this is crazy. You have to leave soon. How are we going to make this work?”

For a second, I worry that she’s having second thoughts. “I know it’s a lot to ask ye to give up the life ye have here, but I want ye with me on the tour. When it’s over, we can figure out where we want to live.”

“You want me to come with you?”

“No, love. Ineedye to come with me.” I’m not afraid to let her hear the desperation in my voice.

She smiles then. A grin that lights up her whole face.

God, she’s beautiful.

“I never thought I’d be a groupie.”

I chuckle. “Ye’ll be my wife.”

“Wife,” she says softly, playing the word over her lips. “I like the sound of that.”

I pull her into my lap so that she’s straddling me.

Her lips find mine, the kiss full of emotion. When she pulls back and rests her forehead against mine, my throat thickens at what I see in her eyes.

Hope.

Love.

Trust.

“You’re my happiness,” she whispers, breathlessly.

“And ye’re mine, love.”

Epilogue

Delaney

Six Months Later

My heart swellswith love as I watch the man on stage –my husband.

“As fun as this has been, I’m glad the tour is almost over,” Emer says as she comes to stand beside me, her hand resting on the small bump of her stomach. “I can’t wait to go home and sleep in my own bed.”

Home. Cillian and I decided to go back to Ireland when the tour is over. It makes sense for now. His family and band are there, and my own parents will visit when they have the chance. One day, I hope to take them to the places on Maeve’s list.

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