Chapter Twenty-Eight
SHANNON
Something was unusual at the firehouse.
“Sam’s wearing a tuxedo,” I murmured. “A red tuxedo. Where did he get a red tuxedo?”
“Yeah, that’s not making it easier for me to like that guy,” Will said.
Miles of twinkling lights were strung across the old fire engine bay, a band was performing on a raised platform, and servers were circulating with champagne. It seemed over the top for our standard Christmas Eve gathering, and there were far more people than I expected.
Sam and Riley were huddled together on the landing between the first and second floors. Riley appeared to be adjusting Sam’s bowtie, and repeatedly patting his lapels as if to reassure him. Perhaps more interestingly, Riley was wearing a kilt.
“Why is Riley wearing a kilt?” I murmured. “And that’s…that’s, what is her name?” I was staring hard at the petite woman with spiky dark hair. “She used to live with Tiel. Ally or Emma or something. She’s supposed to be touring with her band. What’s she doing here?”
I searched the space, not sure what I was hoping to find, and ended up watching Sam and Riley again. Riley’s hand dipped into his jacket pocket, and he handed something to Sam, and then it clicked.
“He’s wearing a red tux because he’s getting married tonight.”
Will glanced at me, frowning. “What about this scene says wedding to you? We’ve got a hipster band, there’s a table of little cheeseburgers and corndogs over there, and red tuxedos and kilts. How is that—oh, no, I see it now.”
“That little shit,” I said, stabbing my sequined top with my finger. “I’m wearing white, and this is a wedding, and that fucker didn’t even tell me. He planned an entire goddamn wedding and didn’t tell me!”
With his hands on my shoulders, Will backed me into a hallway. “Sam planned a wedding,” he repeated, “because you taught him well. He did this on his own because he learned how to grow the fuck up, and he did that because you showed him how. You know what? I’m gonna thank him for that, even if he is wearing a red tuxedo.”
“He’s still a little shit,” I said, pouting. “We don’t do secrets.”
“Says the girl who had the secret lover,” he said, pointing to himself, “for more than a year. They handled things maturely when you told them, didn’t they?”
Mature wasn’t the right term, but Will didn’t need to hear the true events of my siblings’ reaction to the secret lover story. It was only one step better than cancelling Thanksgiving.
“Shannon,” Will said, his fingertip running over my collarbone. “You are the sexiest woman alive, and I want you to enjoy this night. Do you want me to lick your pussy before we go back out there?”
I swatted him away. “Save it for later, commando.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The music stopped, and we emerged from the hallway to find Sam on the platform with a microphone in hand. “They say you should marry your best friend,” he said, “and that’s what I intend to do tonight.”
*
With drinks in hand, I made my way through the energetic crowd toward where Will stood with Patrick and Andy. He caught my eye, and held his arm out to me, an invitation to take my place by his side, to be his in front of these people, the stars, the sky, and the entire universe beyond this firehouse. It was an invitation I accepted without hesitation, and I did him one better by brushing my hand down his chest, stopping when my fingers met his belt.
“Did you know?” Patrick asked me. He eyed Will, still unsure of what to make of him.
“Not a clue,” I admitted, shaking my head.
“That ceremony was…” Andy laughed. “That was unique. I’ve never seen anything like this.”
I glanced up at Will, smiling. He kept his eyes on me while he tipped back his beer bottle, and I watched his throat bobbing as he swallowed. I knew how he tasted right there, and how he shivered when my nails scraped over his scalp, and how his breaths came in fast bursts against my neck when he was ready to explode inside me. And I knew he was all mine right now.
“Oh God, he’s going to talk again,” Patrick murmured, gesturing to the stage. Sam was at the microphone, gin and tonic in hand, and Tiel on his arm.
I was still overwhelmed by the shock of this evening, but in a strange, wonderful way, it was perfect. This was Sam and Tiel, and I never would have been able to micromanage an event that came anywhere close to this level of quirky spectacular. And I was gradually realizing that I was okay with that.
“Tonight we celebrate my wife,” Sam said, grinning down at her, “the most incredible woman in my world. Tiel, you are my sanctuary, my soul, my Sunshine.” He pressed a kiss to her lips, and when he turned back to the audience, he was smiling brighter than I’d ever seen. “But I want to raise a glass to a few others who made this possible, who delivered me to this point, whether they know it or not. To the elder statesmen,” he said, tipping his glass toward Matt and Patrick. “To the keepers of all the best secrets.” He gestured to Riley. “And to the wanderers who know when to wander home, and…the cornerstones, the ones who hold us together. Without all of you,” he said, sweeping his arm out, “I wouldn’t be here. Cheers.”
Looking up, my eyes landed on Erin, and I found her smiling at me. She glanced to Will, and then back to me with a quick nod. It was little more than eye contact, but it was the most we’d shared in years. She looked well, and my chest tightened with all the questions I ached to ask her. It still shocked me that she was a woman now, lovely and grown, and I wanted the best for her. I hoped she was happy and fulfilled, and that she was safe and loved.
“You should talk to her,” Will said gently.
“Not tonight,” I said with a sigh.
Nick appeared at her side, and she turned away from me. She tossed her hands up and bounced with the music, and our silent conversation was over.
“You were right. The rocks are from Erin,” I said. “When my mother came here from Ireland, she had a little box of rocks. She always told us that they were like breadcrumbs, and they’d always help her find the path home when she was lost. I used to tell Erin that story every night before she went to sleep.” I blinked away the tears that rushed to my eyes. “She’s going to come home some day. The rocks are her way of leaving a path.”
“Are you okay?” he asked, his lips brushing over my temple.
“Actually,” I said, “I am. Let’s pour some shots for the happy couple.”
We stayed at the firehouse late into the night, drinking and dancing, laughing and celebrating, and there was no comparison to the sad, lonely Christmas Eve I spent at Sullivan’s Tap last year.
We were all over each other on the cab ride home. Loose, giddy, flirty, desperate. The cabbie reprimanded us several times for getting too handsy.
And it felt good. Everything felt good and I never wanted it to stop.
I leaned against the door while Will dug through my purse for the keys. “Are you going to take me to bed?”
“If you’re asking whether I plan to fuck you until the sun comes up,” he said, “the answer is yes. Come here.”
He motioned for me to wrap my arms around his neck, and then he lifted me, locking my legs on his waist. He dropped the keys and my purse to the floor once we were inside, and a trail of our clothes followed us into the bedroom.
“We go to a lot of weddings, don’t we?” he asked. He tossed me to the bed and stepped out of his shoes and trousers. I pulled my shirt over my head and shrugged out of my bra.
“It seems that we do,” I said, scooting under the blankets.
Will nestled beside me, his skin hot and his mouth urgent as he kissed my shoulder and neck. “When are we going to our own?”
His cock pressed against my thigh, eager for attention. “Was that a proposal?” I asked.
Will laughed, and positioned himself between my legs. He wasted no time bringing his tongue to my clit and spearing two fingers inside me, and I arched back with a loud moan.
“Oh, fuck,” I cried. “Fuck, fuck, yes, right there.”
He popped up, his head on my belly. “See what I did there?” he asked, smirking. “You said yes.”