Quinn~Twelve years later

“And then Miss Amber told me how rainbows are made, and we painted them.” I listen to my beautiful four-year-old daughter, Keeva, talk about her day at preschool. I’m attempting to braid her hair, though no matter how many times I do it, it's still not as perfect as when Molly does it. But my beautiful baby girl never complains, always giving me the biggest smile and kiss before saying thank you, even if it looks like shit.

“I painted one for Mommy, Aunt Cleo, Aunt Willow, and Aunt Anabella.” She’s still chirping away. “And one for you Daddy because I love you.” Fuck this girl melts my heart.

I finish, tying a yellow bow at the end, which goes perfect with her wild red hair. “All right love, I’m done.”

She turns around with that heart-melting smile. “Thanks Daddy.” And she gives me a hug.

“Dad, Dad, Dad!” Conan, my almost seven-year-old son comes up to me and Keeva in the living room. He’s holding his nose, blood pouring from it. “Aengus did the routine Granddad showed us and knocked me right in the bloody face.” He’s grinning and looks like a psychopath.

Aengus comes running in next, almost twelve now. “Dad did you see Conan’s face? I punched him really good,” he grins. Now they both look like little psychopaths, covered in dirt and blood yet happy as clams.

“Eww you’re all messy.” Keeva wrinkles her nose. “Don’t get me dirty, I’m pretty for our Aunties and Uncles coming over.” She takes a step back from them.

“Okay O'Sullivans, this is what we are going to do. Keeva go help your mom in the kitchen since our guests should be here soon. Boys, out in the front yard where we’ll wash you up where your mom can't see,” they nod in agreement.

We go outside and I grab some paper towels on the way. “Quickly before your mom sees you.” They stand side by side, practically twins, with a mop of curly red hair and green eyes, just like Keeva. “Head back Conan.” He does as I say, and I wipe the blood from his face. Next, I take Aengus’s hands and wipe them off.

“Why am I not surprised?” I hear Foster’s voice and turn to see him, Lawson, and Novak standing behind me.

“Uncles! Aengus popped me with Granddad’s Irish secret move, it was great,” Conan grins at them. “He almost knocked out my loose tooth!”

“Little Irish monster just like your Mom, huh?” Foster smiles down at him.

“Yep,” Aengus puffs his chest out.

“Where is the rest of the clan?” I ask.

“They took the back gate with the kids,” Lawson replies.

“Go change your clothes then see your Aunts and cousins in the backyard.” I send the Irish monsters off.

I stand and give them a hug. We see each other often, but it's still nice to see each time. We’ve been through so much together, and it cemented our lifelong friendship.

“Come on back, Molly has a feast for all of you.” I motion them inside. We enter the house and it’s like we crossed the threshold to chaos, and ten kids and four wives make a whole lot of it. We walk into the kitchen, and I see Molly, Cleo, Anabelle, and Willow talking and laughing as they look out the window watching the kids play.

“Ladies,” I greet.

“Quinn,” they all smile, and I get kisses on the cheek and hugs from them.

“Daddy!” I hear Keeva as she runs into my arms, her hair undone and wild. “My bow fell out,” she holds up her yellow ribbon with a pout.

“That’s okay, love, I'll redo it good as new,” I smile at her.

“Keeva, don’t you want Uncle Foster to braid your hair? I’m way better than your less Irish Dad.” Foster kneels to her height.

“Hate to break it to you both, but I’m the best hair braider around. Trust me, my sweet Keeva, you want Uncle Lawson to do it,” Lawson tries to convince her.

“Are they seriously fighting over who gets to braid hair?” Anabelle asks the rest of the girls.

“Apparently,” Cleo giggles.

“I think its super cute,” Willow smiles.

“Fuck am I glad I only have boys,” Novak grunts.

“No thank you, Uncles. Daddy’s my man.” And again my baby girl melts my heart.

“That’s right love let Daddy fix your hair.” I take her to the living room and re-braid it.

“How’s it going?” Molly joins us.

“Just finished,” I say as I tighten her bow.

“Thanks, Daddy.” She kisses me then goes off to the backyard.

Molly sits on the couch next to me and I wrap my arm around her bringing her in tightly. “Do you want to explain why Conan has a bruised nose and Aengus a busted hand?” She asks me.

I let out a breath, giving up on even trying to hide it from her. “They're your sons,” is the only answer I can provide.

She laughs and taps my knee. “That explains it then.” She gets up and offers me her hand. I take it and stand with her.

“Come join the party, they’re all waiting for you.” She goes to leave, but I grip her arm pulling her into me and giving her a deep passionate kiss. My hands roam over her body, she’s fuller now, and I fucking love every inch of it.

“I love you,” I tell her, and I do. More and more every day.

“I love you too,” she smiles. “Now come on, so you boyos can oversee the BBQ. And if you burn my steak I'm going to kick all your bloody arses,” she says playfully and I can't help but chuckle .

As we join our friends and I see Molly with our three kids, all having wild red hair, green eyes and freckles I can’t help but feel fucking grateful for all I have, and it’s all because of her. She came into my life like the Irish force she is and made it like a fucking dream come true. We fought battles together, others and our own, but it never got us down, or tore us apart. We stuck together, through it all, and that’s the real meaning of fighting Irish.