Chapter Two
Fallon
I’d been in Ireland a bit over six months and stayed under the radar, for the most part.
The job at the famous Murphy Pub franchise headquarters wasn’t exactly what they advertised online, and I spent a lot of time fetching coffee for Jack Murphy, but it was work. And the company gave me a place to live, rent-free, which was better than what I was up against back home in Chicago.
The only thing I missed about the city was my nana. She was the one who encouraged me to go for this job. I sat at the little folding table across from her in the nursing home, telling her all about the opportunity at Murphy’s Pub franchise and the Skype interview that I had set up. She said not to worry about her, and she would be just fine without me.
But that wasn’t the case. My parents didn’t pay for shit with my schooling, and soon my student loan bills would be coming in. The money was partially for school, and whatever I had left, or made from part-time jobs, went to help keep Nana in assisted living. With her age and poor health, there was no way she could go anywhere else, especially not my parents’ shitty two-bedroom place in the city. I even offered to take her to Ireland with me, but she said this journey was mine, not hers, to make. Now I was living across the world, working for a huge company, and living on peanut butter and jelly and nights alone so my nana could have a better life, for however long hers lasted. I just hoped I could save enough up this next year or two and move closer to her again.
Staring at my reflection in my computer screen, I held up one foot, looking at the red shoe, then put that foot down to look at the black one.
I came home on my lunch break to change out of my dress. Usually, I just ate lunch at my desk, so I hoped Jack wouldn’t mind me gone for a few minutes. Though, the time was quickly passing as I stared at my outfit.
I’d talked to Connor Murphy hundreds of times on the phone, exchanged emails, and seen him the past few days around the offices. But seeing him and seeing all six foot two of him in jeans and a faded T-shirt, flashing that dimpled smile, was another.
So he was my boss’s brother and probably would be taking on a more prominent role in Dublin, I assumed, after their meeting. I shouldn’t have been fantasizing about the guy who had a reputation and was a pain in the ass. But that still didn’t stop me from wondering if he would like my red or black heels better.
My computer buzzed; alerting me I had a message. Shit. How long was I gone? Was it Jack? Did I miss something on his call?
Quickly, I bent over my tiny makeshift desk, which was a piece of plywood stacked on milk crates, and I clicked on the message icon.
Ray: Hey, saw you were online and thought I’d catch you for once.
I’d been with Ray since I was a senior in high school. He was a few years older and had been my boss at a local grocery store. When I was seventeen, it was cool to have a boyfriend who could get alcohol and drove a sports car. Years later, that “cool” boyfriend wasn’t as great, still with the same—now beat up—car, still working at the grocery store, and still living in his parents’ basement. But he’d stuck by me through getting my degrees and a long-distance relationship. He promised he’d save up to visit me and start looking for an apartment for us, but that never panned out, yet I stayed in the relationship.
There was something I liked about that stability. Going to Ireland was the craziest thing I’d ever done, leaving Ray and everything else behind.
It was only a week ago that I broke up with him via messenger. I said he was one of my best friends, and I’d always be grateful for that, but we’d be better off as friends. I thought he got the hint it was a breakup, but it seemed to go over his head. The guy was sending me more smiley face emojis during the day than he had over our entire relationship.
Letting out a breath, I leaned over and typed a response to Ray.
Me: Yeah. Just on my lunch break.
Ray: Wanna video chat? Wondering if you’ve done any research like you said you were going to do about moving back home. I can’t hold on to all of your shows on the DVR for much longer, babe. Baseball season is coming, and Mom won’t let me delete all of her “Real Housewives” seasons.
I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see it. How was he not getting the hint? Sure, I did want to move back and be closer to my nana and my best friend, Leah, but surprisingly, decent paying jobs for a girl with a master’s and little-to-no-work-experience were tough to come by.
Before I could respond and try to get him to see the big picture that we were over, a video message popped up, and I sighed with relief. Leah’s name was on the screen, so I clicked accept.
She had her makeup practically airbrushed on, blinking her big, goopy black lashes.
“I thought you had to work today?”
She was perfectly poised in a black blazer that matched her black pixie haircut.
“I am working. But you messaged me for fashion advice and how the hell could I say no to answering a question on that?”
Leah and I had been best friends since diapers, both growing up in a shitty neighborhood in Chicago. I elected for college and an MBA, and she ended up opening her boutique in the suburbs. I missed the grand opening because I was flying to Ireland. But Leah was still my biggest confidant and checked in on Nana for me.
“Okay. So, which shoes with this dress?” I stepped back so she could see my entire outfit on the monitor. “The black”—I held up my right foot—“or the red.” I put my right foot down and held up my left.
Leah blinked hard. “Oh my God. Why didn’t you tell me?”
I raised an eyebrow, planting both feet back on the ground. “Tell you what?”
“That you’re finally moving on after breaking up with Ray,” she yelled so loud I swore my neighbors probably heard her.
“What? No. This isn’t a date. I spilled some coffee on my dress at work and needed to change my clothes. I just didn’t know which shoes went best with this dress,” I stammered, taking a seat on the chair in front of my makeshift desk.
“An outfit for work doesn’t require fuck-me-heels. So, tell me, who is the guy?” She smirked.
“There’s no guy. It’s just what’s clean.” I may have said the words in shock, but my cheeks heated up.
Okay, so maybe I was wearing my best shoes and the red dress Leah picked out for my graduation. It was way over my budget, but she said it made me look like I had more of an hourglass figure than my usual pear shape. So, I swiped my phone looking for every coupon then bought the thing, praying I’d wear it more than once. It was clean, and I couldn’t go back to work in a stained dress, so that was as good an excuse as any.
And maybe I’d get that same look from Connor, where his eyes lit up, roaming over my body with coffee spilled down my dress. I couldn’t stop thinking about his hard chest pressed against me right before the drinks toppled over. All I knew about the middle Murphy brother was that he lived in Boston and ran the American operations and I had to wake him up way too many times when he was late for conference calls. And…that he was gorgeous.
“Okay. Okay. I get it. You’re single, and it’s been a while, so maybe it’s finally time to cozy up to that Jack guy you work for. I know he’s an asshole, but I saw his Instagram, and he is a pretty asshole.” Leah nodded with a big smile crossing her face.
“This isn’t about Jack,” I blurted, immediately regretting the words as soon as they spilled from my lips.
“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows.
Shit. There was no getting out of this one.
“There is another brother. One who I ran into today and met for the first time in person…”
“The rugby player?”
I shook my head. “No, the other one. The one who came in from Boston for the funeral. If the office gossip I’m hearing is correct, he might be staying around here for a while, too.”
Leah’s eyes widened. “I’m going to have to do a search on him. If he’s as good looking as the other two, no wonder you’re wearing that dress.”
“I’m not thinking about screwing the guy. I just…” I sighed, trying to think of the right words. So maybe I was trying to dress up a little for him. There was nothing wrong with that, I told myself.
“Go with the black heels,” Leah interrupted, saving me from blurting out my random thoughts. “Then message me after work tonight, so I can hear what Mr. Middle Brother thought of the dress and heels. You should take your hair out of the ponytail, too. Shake it out.”
I rolled my eyes but slowly pulled out my ponytail, shaking my long blond hair and letting it fall down my shoulders “You do know that I’m six hours ahead of you. By the time I get home, you’ll either be in bed or doing inventory.”
“I don’t care. You can message me anytime, and you know I’ll be here for you, babe.”
I smiled, my heart aching. I missed my best friend so damn much. “What would I do without you?”
“Have an even worse sense of fashion.”
…
“Pinky, you’re still here? And you changed your clothes.”
I practically jumped out of my chair, hearing the low timbre of Connor’s voice at my desk.
It turned out I wasn’t the only one who went home to change. Looking up from my computer screen, I tried not to let my gaze linger over his white oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He had the arms of a man who knew his way around a gym, and I briefly wondered how they would feel around me.
Heat crept up my neck, and I quickly tamed my lingering thoughts, looking back to my computer screen. “Just finishing up some reports for the night. And you’re still here, too—also with a change of clothes, I might add. Couldn’t go all day in your walk-of-shame outfit?”
He smirked, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against my desk. “I’d hardly call that a walk of shame. The only thing I am ashamed of is that I ruined that little dress of yours, and that you’re still stuck here while everyone else has gone home.”
I didn’t want to admit that I took a longer lunch than usual, talking to Leah and curling my hair before stuffing a sandwich in my mouth as I ran out the door. Instead, I just shrugged. “A girl’s gotta get her work done. If I don’t email this stuff now, there will be a load of messages from pissed off California franchise owners.”
I had work acquaintances, but no real friends. No one I could talk to when some irate regional manager wanted to know why Jack hadn’t signed off on something and conveniently forgot about the time difference.
He nodded solemnly. “I had a manager in Boston who seemed to think we were in the same time zones. It always drove me mad when he expected something at all hours.”
“Tell me about it,” I grumbled, sending the last email out.
Now nothing was keeping me at my desk. Nothing but the beautiful Irish man perched on it.
“Okay, well, that’s done. So now you don’t need to worry about my dress or me still being here.” I stood up, grabbing my purse and tossing my hair over my shoulder.
“If you’re not doing anything, you should head downstairs to the pub with me. I know I’ve had a shite day and could use a pint. I owe you more than that after today.” He stood up to his full height, looming over me with a devilish grin on his face.
“I’m not much of a beer girl,” I quipped, though internally I was screaming at myself.
“Then you can have something else. You should be a whiskey connoisseur by now, after six months working for my brother,” he said with a laugh, putting his hand on my lower back and guiding me toward the stairwell.
I sucked in a deep breath, my body stiffening as I tried not to think about how warm his hand was, even through the material of my dress. “Not much for whiskey, either. But I guess it couldn’t hurt to have a meal at the pub downstairs. I’ve only been there once, and the only thing I had was soup.”
He shook his head. “You obviously can’t work here if you haven’t had a Murphy Guinness-battered fish and chips. I believe that was in the paperwork you signed when you were hired.”
I laughed, walking in step with him down the stairs and into the cool night air. “I also signed some documents from HR about handsy men in the workplace.”
He lifted his arms above his head, his palms out. “I was just helping a lady out, and we’re outside of the office, so if you want something more than a pint, you can tell me now and I’ll call us a cab to my place.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You mean your brother’s place? Unless you have a place I don’t know about in the city. I don’t remember making you a hotel reservation, and I keep pretty good records of everything.”
He smiled, brightening his whole face. He may have changed and showered after this morning, but I was glad he kept that hint of stubble on his chin. “You know how to knock a man’s ego down. No wonder you’re the only assistant my brother’s ever kept this long. You’re one hell of a girl, pinky.”
“What’s with the pinky name all of a sudden, anyway?” I asked as he opened the door to the pub just downstairs from our offices.
It was a little after six, and the place was packed, with people sitting at every high-top table and booth.
“You don’t like it? I could go with something else. But I think it suits you. It reminds me of that little pink dress you wore, and when the coffee soaked through it, I got a little hint of what you’ve been hiding underneath,” he murmured, leaning low so the approaching hostess couldn’t hear him.
Every hair on the back of my neck stood on end, my lip trembling from his words. But I wasn’t going to let the cocky playboy know he had that effect on me. “Better than you walking in with sex-hair and a coffee stained shirt.”
The hostess widened her eyes, looking between the two of us, then licked her lips before she spoke. “Connor, haven’t seen you here in a while. Taking a seat in the bar, or should I set you up in the snug with your lady friend?”
I waved my hands in front of me, almost choking on my own spit. I let out a wheezing cough before speaking. “No, not his lady friend and no snugging needed. A seat wherever you have is fine.”
The hostess nodded. “All right, then. I’ll seat you two at a booth. We just had one open up. Follow me.”
“You do know a snug is just a small seating area, right? Snogging is the British term for necking,” Connor said, breathing onto my earlobe.
I kept my eyes trained forward so he couldn’t see my burning face, which had to be bright red, and I tried to tame the butterflies in my stomach. “I know. I just wanted to make a point.”
I gazed at every black and white photo of the old Murphy building on the wood-paneled walls and the stained-glass lamps above the booths, instead of the blue-eyed man who took a seat across from me.
“I’ll have your waiter out with two pints,” the hostess said with a smile, turning and heading to another table before I could object.
Connor smirked and plucked a menu from the condiment holder, handing it to me. “You gonna give me shite if I recommend what you order?”
I opened the plastic menu and mentally calculated what was in my bank account. I had enough for dinner tonight, but with a student loan payment and Nana’s monthly rent and medication payments going out in a week, I’d probably have to live off whatever was in my bare cupboards for the rest of the month.
“I’m picking up the tab, pinky, so stop looking for the cheapest thing on the menu like you don’t want to be an inconvenience,” he said, and I glanced to see his tight-lipped smile.
“Is that what girls you normally take to the pub do on your dates? Go for some bread and water before hitting the snug?” Jealousy pricked at the back of my mind, which was crazy since it wasn’t like this was a date, or I had any claim to him.
“Don’t usually get to the meal part with a bird, usually, but I figure my brother isn’t paying you nearly enough for all of the shit you do for him and me. I probably owe you hundreds of meals for all of the times you made sure to dial me twenty minutes early for a conference call, and for everything you did to get me here in the first place.”
If only he knew that this was a better pay than most places I could find in America, yet it still wasn’t enough. I even thought about taking a job at the pub on weekends but read in the fine print that it was against company policies.
“Come again?” Connor asked, leaning forward.
I gasped, blinking slowly. Did I say something out loud and not just in my head? “What?”
He smirked. “You were muttering about a waitress job. Is my brother really paying you that little? I’m going to have to call him about a raise. Or, hell, when I get an office here, I’ll just hire you as my assistant. I can’t promise I won’t be handsy, though.”
I swallowed hard, fidgeting with my napkin. Not only had I somehow word vomited, but it was about my financial situation. I didn’t want to get him involved in my personal life, but I couldn’t think of anything else to say at that moment. “Jack pays all right. There are just some monetary things I’ve been taking care of for my nana, and of course student loans, so I was thinking waitressing here could bring in a little extra.”
He frowned, shaking his head. “No way in hell you should have to work a second job. I’ll make sure to talk to Jack about a raise.”
My hand shot forward, grabbing onto his. If my heart wasn’t beating so fast, I would have had more time to think about how warm and rough his hand was against mine. But I pulled my palm back just as quickly as it touched his. “Please don’t. It’s not his concern, and it’s not that big of a deal. I’ll figure it out.”
“I’m not making any promises,” he grumbled.
“You should be nicer to the girl who has been saving your ass with your brother the past few months.”
A smile crossed his face as he shook his head. “You’re a little spitfire; I’ll give you that.”
A younger guy with fiery red hair and a green Murphy’s polo shirt approached the table, setting down two large pints of dark beer and two smaller rocks glasses filled with amber liquid, knocking us out of our conversation.
“A toast,” Connor yelled, holding up the smaller glass. “To Fallon Smith, the best damn assistant a Murphy’s ever had.”
He clinked his glass to mine then dipped it back, downing the whiskey all in one gulp.
I took a tiny sip, not wanting to be rude, since Connor was burning a hole into me with his stare, and the waiter just gawked.
I’d never actually had hard alcohol, except for the terrible cheap stuff in college that was usually mixed into some fruity drink. The whiskey that hit my lips was smooth, with a warm, toffee-flavored burn. If I wasn’t careful, I could easily get pretty drunk on the stuff. Which was probably why people kept coming back to the Murphy brand of alcohol and pubs—the multi-billion, maybe even trillion-dollar company. And I was sitting across from one of the sexy heirs to the enterprise, tipping back drinks like we were old friends.
“I’ll come back to get your order,” the waiter choked out.
Connor sat down his empty glass and shook his head. “No need, lad. If Fallon doesn’t mind, I think we both would like an order of the fish and chips. And can you start us out with some ale and cheddar dip and another whiskey? Been a rough day.”
The waiter eyed me warily, and I nodded. Maybe I should have protested and said I wanted coddle or some other Irish dish, but there was a time for banter, and I didn’t know if the waiter thought I was another Connor conquest, or wondered what the hell the sexy guy was doing with me.
“I’ll be right back with that Mr. Murphy,” the guy said before turning and heading toward the kitchen.
“The meeting that bad?” I asked tentatively, taking another small sip of my drink.
“Do you really want to know?” Connor raised his eyebrows.
“Your dad leave the company to Sean, and now he’s going to turn every pub into a rugby theme with photos of his abs on the wall?”
He laughed, shaking his head before taking a swig of his pint. “Naw, I wish it was that simple. It’s actually pretty fecking complicated. I have no idea what the hell was going through my da’s head when he wrote it.”
I nodded, unsure of how to respond. I’d dealt with all of the brothers in a working relationship for the past few months and gotten to know the ins and outs of their personalities. Jack was a stickler for order while Connor was more of a go-with-the-flow guy. Sean I wasn’t even sure wanted anything to do with the business, but he made it on time to every meeting with the board, even if he did come wearing his rugby uniform straight from practice.
Their dad was a mixture of all three of them. The little I worked with him before he got sick, I knew he raised his boys with those qualities in order that they could run the company together. I hoped that was what he put in his will, but from Connor’s sullen expression I feared that wasn’t the case.
He sighed, taking a big gulp of his pint. “Aren’t you curious to know what the will said?”
I shrugged. “Not particularly. It’s probably legal jargon talking about how you three have to split your shares of the company.”
“Ha,” he bellowed, causing a woman at the table behind us to whip her head around then quickly turn back when she caught his stare.
“I wish it were that simple,” he muttered, finishing his drink.
“Is it really that bad?” I asked softly, dread creeping through me.
A million scenarios ran through my head, and the worst one was that the boys didn’t inherit the company and one of the chavanistic board members with grabby arthritic hands would take over. That would leave me either without a job and money for my loans and Nana, or something even worse. I downed the rest of my whiskey before my mind could go there.
The waiter came to our table and set a tray of cheese dip and pretzels between us before he politely nodded then left without saying a word.
I thought Connor would answer my question, since he seemed to be baiting me, but instead he grabbed a pretzel, dipping it in the cheese. “Ever had ale dip?”
“We do have this in America, too, you know,” I muttered, taking a pretzel and dipping it in the cheese. I took a tiny nibble, surprised at the burst of flavor that hit my taste buds.
“What is that? Horseradish? Not that I’m overly impressed by what you ordered or anything, but I guess it’s okay,” I said, trying to be aloof like he was and slowly finishing my pretzel, though I just wanted to gobble it down.
“Ah, I believe it is horseradish, and I know you have it in America. I lived there, too, as you know from our many phone calls. Boston to be exact.”
I smiled but quickly hid it with my hand, bringing another pretzel toward my mouth. I never memorized phone numbers anymore, but Connor’s was one I had by heart because I’d called him so much for work. “I did know that about you and Boston. Never been there, though, or anywhere on the east coast.”
“Really?” he raised an eyebrow.
“Really. My parents didn’t go much for vacations, but I did take my nana to the farmer’s market in Madison a few times,” I said, immediately shoving a pretzel in my mouth to stop my rambling.
“Madison? As in Wisconsin? I was there once, maybe twice. I think you actually booked me my flight there in February when it was cold as shite,” he said with a laugh.
I smiled, remembering our phone call and how I told him it would be better to visit the Madison location in the spring or even fall. But he and Jack wouldn’t listen, and I ended up having to order parkas and long underwear to be sent to their hotel room.
“I probably should have realized there was something wrong when flights were so cheap, and you kept asking me over and over again if I was sure. But I did get to see my first Midwest snow, which is something not everyone can say.”
“I may not have ever had the famous Murphy fish and chips, but I can say that I’ve seen enough Midwest snow.”
He leaned back in the chair, his blue eyes locked on mine. I swore they were the same color as sparkling sapphires with hints of gold flakes, and I could have stared into those eyes and listened to his accent all night. But this was a guy I worked with, and one I’d interrupted on more than one sexual tryst by calling him for a meeting. Not a guy I could fall for.
He didn’t say anything as the waiter came and replaced our empty glasses, then brought two baskets overflowing with flaky white fish and crispy fries.
I stared at the fish before picking up my fork and knife, expecting this to cut like a steak, and laughed when it immediately crumbled just from my fork touching it.
“Something wrong?” Connor asked, peering at my plate as if he expected there to be a fly in my food.
I shook my head and sucked in a breath. Did I really want to tell him my embarrassing story?
“No. It’s silly, really, but usually when I have fish back home, it’s made by my mom and usually out of a box. By the time she’s done burning it in the oven, I need a steak knife to cut it,” I stuttered, another bout of rambling, and immediately tried to think of something to say so I didn’t sound like an American redneck, which I pretty much was.
“I just mean this stuff cuts nicely, like how I think fish is supposed to.”
“The look on your face was the same one I had when I discovered twenty-four-hour convenience stores in America,” he said, the smile broadening on his face.
“Yeah, they don’t have those here, do they?” I asked, leaning forward slightly. No longer did I feel stiff or on edge, which was either because I finished a whiskey and a pint, or because I was starting to get comfortable with the guy.
“My brothers and I all went to boarding school in Switzerland, and they didn’t have twenty-four-hour stores, either. When I started university in Boston, I was introduced to everything American. Including the joys of getting cheddary puffed crisps after your fraternity brothers keep you up drinking until two a.m.”
I laughed, covering my mouth so I didn’t snort. “Are you talking about Cheetos?”
The grin broadened on my face as he pointed at me. “That’s it. That’s what those blasted things are called. I always forget. But they are good. Same with late-night pizza. Who knew you could order those greasy, cheesy things at all hours in American university towns?”
I took a drink of my fresh pint. “I remember a lot of late night pizza. I think that’s how I survived college.”
“That was my first year in America. Instead of coddle and fish, everyone around me ate pizza, that horrible green soda, and Cheetos. By the end of my freshman year at university, I had to stop eating all of those things for fear I’d die by the time I was thirty. Everything except Cheetos.”
“Do they not sell those around here?” I asked, setting my drink down.
He shrugged. “Probably in the American sections of the stores, but I’ve never looked for them. They don’t have the same appeal if you aren’t eating them after spending a night with shitty keg beer.”
“You’re right about that one. I’m not much of a drinker, but I will say I’m getting used to this whiskey. And the non-burned fish, too.”
He laughed instead of cringing like I was doing internally. Then he lifted his glass. “To non-burned fish, Cheetos, and whiskey.”
I laughed, holding up my glass and clinking it with his. “To all.”
After he finished his whiskey, he set the glass down, and his expression darkened. “Why haven’t we hung out more?”
I raised an eyebrow, finishing a bite of fish before I spoke. “Because you just got into town a few days ago?”
He stared at his empty glass. “I didn’t answer when you asked me what the meeting was about, but that was before I realized that maybe you’re the best person to tell.”
My muscles tensed. I’d already played out the worst-case scenarios and thought we were past that, but now wariness took over as I cocked my head to the side. “Okay?”
His eyes roamed to the sweetheart neckline of my dress, the one that made me look like I had more of a B cup. Just as quickly as I thought I saw a flicker of something else go through him, he shook his head and took a sip of his drink. “Turns out Da put a clause in the will that only his solicitor knew about.”
I nodded, waiting for him to continue. My heart was beating so fast that I was going to burst if he didn’t just get out with it soon.
“As an old-fashioned man, Da wanted his sons to be married in order to inherit the company. Not just Jack so he could be CEO. Within a year of Da’s death, we all have to be married for at least six months, or none of us gets a stake in the company and it goes to the highest bidder on the board.”
He said it so casually, as if he were reading off the dessert list, that I wasn’t even sure I heard him right.
“You…you all have to be married to get the company? That sounds…well…that just sounds weird,” I muttered, taking a sip of my drink.
“Yeah. But it’s the truth.” He downed the rest of his glass before his steely gaze locked on mine. “So, whataya say—think you wanna marry me and help get the company?”
My breath caught in my throat, and I had to pound my chest before I could get air back in my lungs to speak. “I beg your pardon? Is this the whiskey talking?”
He shook his head, leaning forward and taking my hand in his, an electric jolt warming me from his mere touch. “This is me talking. I don’t want the company to go into the board’s hands, and, hey, we like each other well enough. All we gotta do is get married and stay married for six months. We can even do a prenuptial agreement, so you don’t walk away empty-handed. No extra job needed for you, just marrying your favorite Murphy.”
My thoughts flitted to my student loans and Nana’s bills. How all of those could go away so easily. But that would also require marrying a guy who by all accounts was a player and a pain in the ass.
My muscles went rigid, and my heart beat in my ears. I’d been with Ray a long time, and never once did I think about marriage. My only thoughts were about finishing school so that I could have a better life and take care of my nana. Things like fake marriage proposals for money didn’t happen in real life.
What kind of girl was I if I took his offer? If it was even real and not just a drunken idea. He had plenty of other girls that would fall at his feet for a proposal. There was no way he was serious about his brother’s nerdy assistant.
He smiled, squeezing my hand. “Whataya say, pinky? We have some whiskey, a wedding, and just a little white lie. What could go wrong with that?”