Lucky This Isn't Real: MacBride Brothers Series St. Patrick's Day Fake Fiance Romance by Jamie Knight (digital e reader .TXT) 📕

Thankfully, I’d had Maggie to steer me through both times I’d arrived. Despite her agreeable demeanor, she took to the car chaos like a seagull floating on a sea gust.

“You can open your eyes now,” Gavin said.

“Oh,” I replied, releasing my death grip on the door handle.

Their place was much as I remembered it, though I wasn’t sure what changes could be made in the three months since I had been gone. It was still big and luxurious looking compared to our house back in Ireland. Gavin was certainly doing well for himself in the States.

“Do you remember where the guest room is?” Maggie asked me.

“I think so.”

After getting my bag that was packed pretty heavily with enough stuff for an indeterminate stay off my shoulder, I cracked my neck and sat on the bed, trying to make myself comfortable. Not at home, not yet.

It was still too early for that. I was far too aware of the social convention and most folk’s reaction to know what a crock of cobblers the phrase ‘make yourself at home’ was. I didn’t think it was said with self-aware malice.

For the most part, it was almost always meant well, even if the exact definition was somewhat vague. Surely the host didn’t mean to literally make yourself at home, like bringing your own food that you like best, showering with the door open, or going to breakfast wearing nothing but your underwear— all things that were okay to do when you were at home, particularly if you lived alone, as I did.

In some ways, the phrase ‘make yourself at home’ was almost self-aware, though, acknowledging the indefinable, sometimes logical discomfort people feel when occupying other people’s space.

It basically meant, ‘I know you have natural, indefinable discomfort being here right now, but I’ve invited you, so it’s fine. Feel free to increase your comfort level to the point you no longer feel like an intruder.’

But I did plan to eventually make myself at home here, at least temporarily— however long it took to claim Darcy as my own, like I’d wanted to do ever since I first met her.

***

The process of integration took exactly two days. Forty-eight hours of acute awareness of everything I was doing, trying to make sure I didn’t put out a foot wrong, even though I knew neither Gavin nor Maggie would care if I did.

By the end of the second day, we were hanging out like I’d always been there. I tried to figure out how to ask when I might be able to see Darcy again.

They both knew about my interest, of course, and seemed to take it somewhat seriously, despite the good-natured ribbing. But I still didn’t want to come right out and say, ‘So, when will I be seeing Darcy?,’ as though that was my sold motivation for being here.

It wasn’t the only reason but it was the main reason, though I didn’t want to actually say that.

“Did you send out the invites to the preview party?” Maggie asked Gavin at breakfast on the third morning.

“Of course.”

“Thanks, darlin’.”

They kissed tenderly, one of the things that had changed after we’d gotten comfortable. They’d touched in my presence the first few days, likely because Gavin still saw me as his little brother, despite him only being two years older than me, the first three brothers born in fairly rapid succession.

I couldn’t really blame my mother for wanting to take a break after that. There was nearly an eight-year age difference between Jim and me. Ten between Eoin and me. It was nice to see Gavin get over his slight reticence and show sincere love for his wife.

“I didn’t get an invite,” I joked.

“I didn’t think you needed one,” Maggie said, sounding a tad defensive. “You’re already here, and of course, you’re invited.”

“He’s kidding, sweetheart,” Gavin said.

Her cheeks flushed. “Oh.”

“What’s the party for?” I asked.

“It’s a viewing party for the first episode of season 3,” Gavin explained. “All of our friends are coming.”

He grinned in my direction, leaving Darcy’s name unsaid. But my heart took in what my ears didn’t hear, and I could feel it beating with excitement in my chest.

Chapter Nine - Sean

As guests arrived, I did my best to act casual, making it look like I was greeting them and taking their coats and trying to be lovely and helpful while also checking to see if the newest arrival happened to be Darcy.

For the best part of a week, I hadn’t told her I was here. It was killing me. The reason was mostly that I didn’t want to offend Maggie and Gavin by letting them know the real reason I’d come.

But there was another reason I tried to hit head on— my stupid fucking fear.

A small part of me asked itself, What if Darcy didn’t want to have anything to do with me? What if the fantasy was better than reality?

But a bigger part of me told that smaller part to shut the fuck up because I knew that Darcy and I were meant to be together. And I wasn’t going to doubt what I felt in my bones, in my soul.

So, I planned to tell her soon, even if she wasn’t here tonight, although I was really hoping she would be.

Amy and Nicole arrived together. I’d met them at the wedding, but we really hadn’t had an opportunity to talk much. Gavin seemed to know them pretty well, though.

The flow of guests continued in much the same fashion, with many more American voices joining the crowd. It was a bit overwhelming at first, but I soon got used to it, having gotten some practice at the wedding, despite mostly sticking with my brothers when I wasn’t with Darcy.

“Sean?” I suddenly heard the