“Brother, ye sure you’re making the right decision?”

The bedroom goes silent. Ridley shoots me a side-eyed stare, the kind that says: “you’re treading on thin ice, boy.”

I clear my throat. “I’m just wantin’ to be sure, now. Casey’s a good girl, no doubtin’ that; but once you get up in front of the Father, that’s it. Are ye sure yer ready fer tha’?”

I hear the rustle of clothing coming off the rack, and the rattle of coat hangers colliding with one another. The closet door squeals as its hinges take a punishing. I wince. I guess my joke didn’t hit the mark.

Declan steps out of the walk-in closet. His black dress pants are open at the crotch, a starched white shirt falling loose around his boxer shorts. His face is grim. It doesn’t bear the slightest hint of a smile.

“Ye gonna, uh, finish up there?” I grin, taking a half step backwards. I’ve been on the receiving end of my twin’s bunched knuckles enough times to know better than to stand in close. “Or are ye planning on walking up the aisle with yer pants around your ankles? I t’ink Casey would appreciate tha’ just as much.”

Ridley leans back. I catch the movement out of the corner of my eye. A grin plays on my younger brother’s lips.

“Ye know something, Kieran,” Ridley says, with a hint of humor on his chords, “you’re braver than ye look, talking to a man like that on his wedding day.”

A broad grin stretches out on my face. “Always have been,” I nod wisely, “that’s me motto, ye know. Did I ever tell you that? Least, it is now.”

Declan reaches down and zips his fly closed. He doesn’t break eye contact with me.

“How long, Rid?” Declan growls, not bothering to glance down at dad’s old watch. It has graced his wrist ever since the old man’s passing. The faded, worn leather strap doesn’t look like something a man with Declan’s power would wear to a wedding. I know my brother wouldn’t have it any other way.

“‘Til the boys arrive?”

“That’s the one,” Declan confirms in a light, lilting, mischievous tone. My stomach sinks.

“Any time now,” Ridley says, an evil grin stretching out across his face. I know why. I’ve lived around Declan long enough to know what happens when he starts to talk like that.

“So I’ve long enough to kick me little brother’s arse, would ye say?”

“Ye sure ye want to start your wedding day with a wrestle, brother?” I laugh. “We both know there’s no winner in that fight. Besides, I’m what, fifteen minutes younger than ye?”

Declan grins and enters this old argument again by saying, “Ten.” He shakes his head as he tucks in his shirt beneath his waistband.

It’s a sore spot. Declan always likes to bring up the fact that he’s my older brother when, in truth, we’re twins: evenly matched in every way. Well almost every way; every way except Dec’s the head of the family now. Not that it means I wouldn’t punch him in the face. He’s just banking on the fact that I won’t punch him anywhere his soon-to-be wife (and everyone else) would be able to see on his wedding day: tricky bastard.

I hear a knock on the door.

“Yer lucky, Kieran: always were. Get that, will ye? I’ve got to remember how to tie this goddamn rope around my neck.”

“She doesn’t deserve you, Dec,” I grumble, shaking my head. “Maybe I should warn her now. Tell Casey to get out before she’s got all that Catholic guilt weighing her down, too. It’s bad enough that she’s got to wake up to your ugly mug on the other side of the pillow every morning –.”

“Kieran,” Dec mumbles through a face full of his silk tie. He’s rolling his eyes while holding the fat end of the tie between his lips as he fumbles with the knot. It’s quite the party trick. “The door, will ye?”

I shrug. The sound of my mumbled, grumbled complaints follows me to the door. It’s nice to be able to laugh and kid around like this. It reminds me to spend more time with my brothers. I can’t help but wonder if everything is going to change, now that Declan’s getting married.

“He’s just a jumped up, good-for-nothing –.” I mutter with a smile on my lips, just loud enough that I know Declan can hear.

I press my eye against the peephole, just in case. In this business, it serves you well to be prepared, in case men with guns are running for ye. I pull the door open with a broad grin on my face. I throw my arms wide. “Hey, little brother!”

Liam comes through the door first. He comes straight in for a hug. He’s my youngest brother, still at college. Mac – Ridley’s twin – follows behind, his suit jacket hanging off his shoulder.

“Jaysus, Kieran, ye look like crap. Have a big one last night, did ye?” Mac grins, slapping my shoulder in greeting.

I straighten up and make sure that my face is the picture of innocence. “Big one; nah. Would ye believe it, I just had one or two quiet pints at the Jester, so’s I did; took a pen and all. Couldn’t write my speech if I was sober as a judge, could I now?”

Mac raises his eyebrows.

I take a step back from Liam. “You’re looking good, kid. Are you still growing?”

Liam’s cheeks go red. He’s a grown man now: for all that I’m ribbing him like he’s still in his teens. “I’m 23, Kieran. That ship sailed some time ago, so it did.”

“Get your arses in here,” Declan growls. “And wish me luck.”

Liam and Mac walk past me looking for my brother. I’m just closing the door when I hear a voice.

“Sir – I’m sorry, sir?”

I pull the door back, and let it swing open. I stop it with one of my perfectly shined black Oxford dress shoes. “Speaking?”

A jacketed waiter is standing in the middle of the doorframe, behind a white service cart. His face still bears the scars of teenage acne. Heck, he’s not much older than a teen now, if he is at all. He looks nervous, as if it’s his first day.

“Room service,” The kid says in a high-pitched voice filled with tension. “Can I leave it here, or –,” he asks hopefully.

I cut him off mid-sentence. “Bring it in, bring it in,” I chuckle, slapping his shoulder for good measure. The waiter shrinks a little, but doesn’t say a word of complaint. He looks like a good kid – if a little uptight. I glance at him, half-closing one eye. A wicked thought strikes me.

The cart’s wheels squeak as the waiter follows me into Declan’s penthouse.

I clap my hands together. Every eye turns to face me. “Boys,” I grin. “It wouldn’t do to go down to the church without a wee drink now, would it? No man should face the Lord sober…”

Declan chuckles. “Ye’ll be the death of me, brother.” He waves his hand. “But you’re not wrong.”

“I rarely am,” I reply, turning back to the waiter. “Kid – what’s your name?”

The waiter clears his throat. I don’t think he could look any more nervous if he tried. His eyes keep darting back and forth, from brother to brother. I don’t blame him. To a casual observer, we look like quintuplets. Hell, sometimes even I mix Mac and Rid up. “Michael, sir,” he squeaks. “Michael Red–..”

“Whoa!” I say, loud, with mock outrage, holding my hands palm up in front of me. “You don’t want to tell me that, now. ‘Less ye want me te have to kill you…”

The look of sheer terror on the kid’s face tells me he knows exactly which hotel suite he entered. Michael here knows who the Byrne brothers are, and he wants to get out of here the second he can. I slap him on the back, almost bowling him over in the process.

“Go easy on the kid, will ye,” one of my brothers laughs.

“I’m kidding, Michael. Pour us out, will ye – and one for yourself.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” he squeaks, “but it is the hotel’s policy, I’m not allowed to –.”

I glance at the kid, one eyebrow raised in challenge. I can sense my brothers’ amused glances boring a hole in the back of my head. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint me now, would you, boy?”

Michael quails in front of me. I’m not planning on doing the slightest bit of harm to the kid. I just like watching him freak out. That probably says something bad about me. Hell, I don’t care. Michael shakes his head vigorously. “No sir,” he mutters, “thing is I’m only twenty years –.”

“Old enough.” I say firmly, in a tone which brooks no dissent.

Michael’s hands tremble as he pulls a black bottle with green and gold accents from the depths of his cart.

Ridley whistles. “Jaysus, Kieran. Jameson’s Vintage? Have you been saving?”

“Only the best for Declan, you know that,” I grin as Michael clinks six small tumblers against each other. “And besides, whose tab do you think I put it under…”

For the first time, I see Michael’s lips jerk up into a half-smile. I decide to cut the kid a break, and not point it out.

“Yer a real piece of work, you know that Kieran?” Declan fires back, but it’s underlined with humor.

I shrug. “Hey – it’s all family money, isn’t it?”

Michael pours the last glass, and sets the bottle down.

“What are we waiting for?” I grin, handing one to each of my brothers in turn. “It’s fifty bucks a shot. We wouldn’t want to let any evaporate, now, would we?”

Our shot glasses clink in the middle. I let out a deep sigh. “Hold up. Michael,” I grunt, jerking my head at the kid, “get your ass in here.”

Liam chuckles. I guess, as the youngest, he probably feels for the kid. Hell, I don’t know what Michael is so nervous about. I guess he’s heard stories about us down in the kitchens, but whatever he heard was wrong. The Byrne family has always looked out for Boston first, and we always will. We don’t mess with people unless they mess with us first.

Besides, sharing a drink with Declan Byrne on his wedding day? That’s a story he’ll be dining out on for years. Hell, I should be charging the kid for the opportunity.

The waiter scuttles over. He looks like he’s about to hyperventilate. I squeeze his free shoulder as he holds his trembling shot glass up into the pack. “Ye’r a good lad, kid. Once you get that down you, ye’ll feel better.”

He nods.

I raise my glass up, meeting my eldest brother’s eyes properly for the first time. “I mess around a lot, but I’ve seen how much this girl means to you, Dec. I was there from the start. I know that she’s the real deal. I don’t know a lot about love –.”

Each one of my brothers laughs. Even Michael joins in, albeit nervously.

“– But I do know that if it’s anything like what ye’ve found, then it must be worth having. Even if I’m not ready quite yet…” I pause, and grin. “To Declan and Casey: may ye live long and happy lives together.”

“To Declan and Casey,” every one of my brothers says, except Declan himself, who just says his fiancée’s name: cute.

Dec glances at the waiter. “Let the kid go now, Kieran. Ye’ve had your fun…”

I grin. “So I have.” I wrap my arm around his shoulders, and walk him towards the door, tucking a couple of twenty dollar bills into his breast pocket. The door clicks behind him.

Declan shakes his head. “You near gave the poor lad a heart attack,” he says, smiling. He’s finally finished pulling his tie tight, and even though I don’t want to admit it, my brother looks damn good. Not quite as handsome as I look in a suit, but close enough.

I grab the bottle of Jameson’s, and pour two more – smaller – tumblers. I hand one to my eldest brother. The other three have wisely decided to give us a little space. Mac and Rid know better than anyone else that sometimes you’ve got to give twins some space of their own.

“We had a good run, didn’t we?” I grin, and clink mine against his. “What was it, twenty-six years: twenty-seven?”

“Close enough,” Dec smiles pensively, rolling the amber liquid around the tumbler.

“Now it’s all changing,” I say, tipping a little of the fiery whiskey down my throat. “I guess it couldn’t last forever,” I cough.

“We’ll have to find you a woman,” Declan says, draining his glass like it’s nothing. I know the fiery alcohol is burning him up inside, but he keeps his face straight except for a teasing grin. “Before you know it, it’ll be me giving a speech at yer wedding.”

I empty my glass. “Yeah: right. Don’t get me wrong, Dec. Casey’s a beautiful woman. Smart, too. But she’s one in a million. How many broads like that you think are left walking around out there? Besides – I’m not ready to settle down yet,” I grin, setting the glass down on the cart. “I’m having enough fun as it is. Being single suits me to me bones, Dec.”

My brother nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. “Huh.” His empty glass joins mine. He grabs my shoulder and squeezes it. “Listen, Kieran,” Dec says, chewing his lip. “Things are heating up out there – on the streets. You can feel it, can’t you?”

I nod. I know what he’s talking about. Hell, most of it’s down to the way his relationship with Casey began. Like any good Byrne, his fling started in fire.

“It’s dicey,” I agree. “But nothing I can’t handle. Why are you –?”

“I invited the Morellos to the reception,” Declan says, smoothing the white patch of hair that all five of us brothers share behind his ear. And we need to talk –.”

I pat Declan on the side. “Whatever it is, brother, it doesn’t matter. Today is yer wedding day: that’s all tha’ counts. Business can wait.”

There’s a look to Declan’s eyes I’ve never seen before. But hell if I know what it is. I guess it might just be that he’s nervous about getting married, although that doesn’t seem like the Declan I know. It feels like he’s skirting around a topic, but whatever it is, I figure that it’ll make itself clear in time.

I whistle loudly, rounding up the rest of my brothers.

“Come on,” I roar, “let’s go get this boy married!”