Epilogue

MADDIE

Saturday, June 7

(six weeks later)

R eese is wearing a stunning gray gown that sweeps the stone steps of Eilean Donan Castle as she descends to her bridal party, the backdrop of the Scottish Highlands breathtaking behind her. The dress has a neckline that dips down in a deep V with a simple A-line cut at the waist. The dark gray silk is covered in a lighter gray lace.

It’s the perfect wedding dress for my big sister. I grip Stella’s hand on one side, and my mom’s hand on the other. Chelsea stands next to Mom, her hands clasped together. A local photographer snaps pictures.

“I feel ridiculous being the center of attention like this,” Reese says, smiling at us and blushing prettily as she joins our group.

“You deserve to be the center of attention,” Stella says. “And we need to document this day. It’s important.” She envelops Reese into a hug.

“Says the woman who doesn’t believe in marriage.” Reese pulls away and looks at Stella, reaching for Chelsea’s hand.

“Just because I don’t personally plan to get married doesn’t mean I don’t believe in love.”

“Congratulations, Reese, you look perfect.” I wrap my arms around my oldest sister, careful not to mess up her curled dark hair, so much like mine but stopping just below her shoulders and generally more styled and tamed. Mine is slightly less wild than usual today, thanks to the stylist.

“You really do look great, Mom,” Chelsea says.

“You too, sweetheart.” Reese touches Chelsea’s blond waves, which look similar to her Aunt Stella’s. “It means everything that you’re here with me. That you’re all here.”

Tears spring to my eyes. Stella bites her lip, and tears drip down our mom’s cheeks.

“Grandma, no! Your makeup!” Chelsea looks horrified.

Reese didn’t go overboard on the intimate wedding, but she did spring on a professional makeup artist and hair stylist. I’m particularly enjoying the fake eyelashes that make us all look like we’re using some kind of real-life filter.

We all laugh together, and the photographer clicks away, capturing the moment.

“What am I going to do with my three daughters living over here? And all in different countries?” Mom opens her arms and waves us into a group hug.

“I’ll be in the US for most of the year, Grandma.” Chelsea pulls away and poses with her hands on her hips. Over the last two days, she’s peppered Oliver and Patrick with questions about their time playing pro soccer, as if she hadn’t talked about it nonstop with Oliver back in Jersey. And she’s desperate to come play in Europe, even though we all think she’ll have a chance at playing in the US after college, which is the best for women’s soccer.

I glance at my mom. Her remaining in New Jersey while I stay in Ireland has weighed on me. I feel like I’m abandoning her. And especially because I didn’t expect Reese to move to Scotland. I thought she and Oliver would stay in her home in New Jersey forever, but then again, I didn’t really think through the fact that they’d want to spend time with Oliver’s son in Scotland after Chelsea graduated high school.

It’s complicated, as is everything with love and family.

“Chelsea will be at college, but we will come back in the fall so we can see some of her games,” says Reese when the hug breaks apart.

“Everyone understands, Mom,” Chelsea says, a slight roll to her eyes confirming she is still a teenager, even if she’s off to college soon. “Lucas needs you guys, too.”

“Well...” Mom nods, but her eyes continue to fill with tears, threatening to overflow again. “Your stepfather and I decided we’ll be spending every summer somewhere over here. We’ll split our time between Scotland, England, and Ireland. We won’t move here completely because of his kids and grandkids. But I can’t bear to be apart from all of you.”

I politely push those familiar feelings of doubt and guilt away. I have to live my life for me, not make decisions based on keeping my sisters or my mother happy. That’s something I’ve learned since arriving in Ireland on a cold, rainy February day.

“Apologies for the interruption, but it’s time.” A man dressed in a kilt peeks around the corner, his thick Scottish accent absolutely glorious.

Mom’s going to walk Reese into the outside courtyard of the castle and down the short aisle. Stella, Chelsea, and I leave them to take our seats first, weaving through the old stone castle walls and into the open area, down the aisle covered in a rolled-out white carpet, and toward the small group of people seated in silver folding chairs decorated with wide gray-and-white ribbon.

The Scottish weather came through for us today. Apparently, the default plan is to have the wedding ceremony in the Banqueting Hall—the biggest and prettiest room in the castle—as the weather is usually crappy.

But today, it’s glorious. There’s a scattering of dark clouds in the sky, but the sun is shining through the gloomy puffs. The mountains of the Isle of Skye tower a short way across the sea. I can’t imagine a more romantic place for a wedding ceremony.

Oliver, dressed in a formal kilt, stands in the middle of the stone courtyard next to the wedding officiant, waiting for Reese.

“Our sister’s marrying a seriously hot Scottish dude today,” Stella whispers as we walk up the aisle.

I laugh and nod, but I’m really staring at my hot Irish dude, who’s turned in his seat in the front row, waiting patiently for me to join him, an expression on his face that is heated and intense. There are about a dozen other people seated in the rows of white chairs. Oliver’s parents and son are in the front row across the aisle from Patrick, next to Lucas’s mother and her husband. Behind them are a handful of friends from Oliver’s soccer life, including his old coach, who we met last night.

Stella settles between Patrick and Ethan, kissing her boyfriend on the mouth and then lifting a hand to Mom’s husband, who is on the other side of Ethan. I slip into the empty seat next to Patrick. Reese had three friends from the US fly in to see her get married—her boss and two longtime friends from Chelsea’s school years—and they are seated in the rows behind us, two of them with significant others and another on her own.

“You are beautiful.” Patrick examines my face like I’m a detailed text to memorize before an exam, and lets his eyes wander down my body.

I can’t help but blush under his heated assessment. Reese let her three bridesmaids—me, Stella, and Chelsea—pick out our own dresses. She suggested a dark color that would go with her gray dress, so Stella and I chose a mid-length dark blue silk dress from a shop in London. We video called with Chelsea to make sure she was happy with it as well.

My heart grows with warm joy at his words.

“Thank you. You clean up pretty well, too,” I whisper. And it’s true—he’s smoking hot in a tuxedo. “But maybe you should consider wearing a kilt sometime.” I nod my head toward Oliver.

“You offend me.” Patrick gives me an unimpressed glare.

I bite back a smile. “A tuxedo works, I guess.”

“I thought you just wanted me in a soccer kit?”

“Sure. That too.” I shrug.

“Tourist. Behave.” He leans down and presses our lips together, letting the kiss linger and taking my left hand in his. His fingers play with the silver Claddagh ring that’s on my middle finger. He gave it to me for my birthday last month and explained that the heart represents love, the crown loyalty, and the two hands friendship. And if the tip of the heart is pointing toward my own heart, it means I’m taken. I’m definitely taken.

Everything is unbelievably perfect.

I’ve settled into my new role at Slea Head Brewery. Lola—the product development manager—is a delight and a match for my extroverted self. I’ve loved picking everyone’s brains about what we can do with the brewery. There’s an empty space two doors down that I want to rent and convert into a tasting room. We’ll do tours of the brewery and send visitors there afterward. We’ll sell merchandise and beer to go. We can make Slea Head Brewery a microbrewery destination for locals and tourists alike.

“You know I’d marry you today if I could, right?” he says as he breaks our kiss, putting a few inches between our lips.

Saoirse and Patrick’s dad are watching over the brewery while we’re here, and Niamh and Erin are taking care of Turtle, Kitty, and Gator.

Yup, the girls named my baby goat Alligator, Gator for short.

“I know.” I nod and kiss him again.

I’ve been overseas for three months, and Dingle feels more like my home than anywhere else I’ve ever been. Saoirse and the girls are a second family to me. Lola is a new bestie, and Noreen has even been extra friendly, although it’s taken me a minute to stop picturing her and Patrick together.

Liam’s come into O’Brien’s more frequently and occasionally he and Patrick chat about the breweries or talk shit about soccer. It’s a tentative truce.

Liam still hasn’t scored a goal against Patrick.

“There she is!” Stella whispers from next to me, as if we didn’t just see the bride a few minutes ago.

I turn to watch Reese walk toward us, her arm linked with Mom’s. My sister looks beautiful in the gray dress that matches both her eyes and the moody Scottish sky. Her gaze is locked with the man waiting for her at the end of the aisle.

“She’s so bonnie!” Oliver’s son loudly states from across the aisle, and everyone chuckles quietly, his mother shushing him with a smile.

“She is the most bonnie woman in the world,” Oliver says to his son.

Patrick leans into my ear, his lips brushing against the bottom of my earlobe.

“You should know that you are the most beautiful woman in the world. I’ll keep that to myself for now, given it’s your sister’s wedding day.”

I squeeze his hand. My sister reaches Oliver, hugs my mother, then kisses her soon-to-be husband on the lips.

“Dear family and friends, we are gathered here today...”

Patrick brings my hand to his lips.

“I love you, Maddie.”

And I know he does.

It’s the beginning of forever for us, too.

The End