My Life in Shambles(41)

“Padraig!” my nan’s booming voice echoes from downstairs. “Stop faffin about and get yer arse down here!”

Instant erection killer.

Breathing heavily, I look at Valerie, her hair wild, her lips wet and red, her cheeks flushed. Fuck, she’s so bloody beautiful. I am in such a fucking mess with this woman.

“Faffin about?” Valerie asks, trying not to smile. “Like…” She gestures a jerking off movement with her hand, which is somehow very hot.

I chuckle and smooth the hair off her face. “Not fapping. Faffin. Faffin about means you’re dicking around. Or should I say wasting time. My nan may have a sharp tongue but she ain’t up to date with internet speak.” I pause. “Thank the lord.”

We get off the bed, sort ourselves out, then head to dinner. I pause at the top of the stairs and pull her close to me. “You ready?”

She nods anxiously. “Yes. No.” She shakes her head.

“Don’t be nervous,” I tell her, leaning in and smiling. “Kiss me.”

“Kiss me, you’re Irish?”

“Kiss me, I’m Padraig McCarthy,” I tell her. “Kiss me for luck.”

“Oh, so you’re like the Blarney Stone now, is that it?” But then she quickly kisses me on the lips. “And, I know it’s formal of you to call me Valerie, but since we’re engaged and all, I was hoping you could call me Val.”

“Val it is.”

I grab her hand and lead her down the stairs.

My father is already sitting down at the head of the table, my nan beside him. He looks a lot better than he did earlier, maybe because he’s in a nice flannel shirt and his hair is combed back and he’s high on pain meds. He’s wearing his glasses too, which I’m secretly happy about. I want him to see how beautiful Valerie—Val—is.

“Dad,” I say proudly as I lead Val over to the table. “This is Valerie, my fiancé.”

“So nice to meet you,” she says to him, and because it’s apparent that he’s not going to be getting up, she gives an awkward curtsy.

“What are ye doing that for?” He frowns at her. “I’m only dying, I’m not the king.”

Her face goes red to her roots.

I laugh and squeeze her hand. “If she sees ye as king, Dad, I wouldn’t argue with her.”

His lips curl into what can barely be called a smile. “I suppose I should take what I can get in this house? Well, well, sit down and eat.”

We take our seats on the opposite side of the table. There’s a bowl of simple salad in front of us as a starter, which we all tuck in to, passing each other salt, pepper, and salad dressing.

Val is looking at the two other empty places at the table just as the Major comes out to take his seat at one.

“Ah, salad!” he says, clapping his hands together. “Just like yesterday and the day before and the day before that.” He’s still dressed in his brown suit that looks like it’s been found at the bottom of a thrift store bin.

“You eat it and you like it,” my nan says threateningly.

“What’s that you say?”

My nan closes her eyes, shaking her head. “Merciful Jesus in heaven,” she mumbles.

Then Gail steps out of the kitchen, holding the giant pot of Irish stew my nan had been working on all day.

Gail’s not surprised to see me, so she must have been warned. She looks good, too, if not a little on the skinny side with dark circles under her eyes.

“Howya, Padraig. It’s been a long time.” She says this lightly but I swear I see some bitterness on her lips, like she just sucked on a lemon. “Things good with ye?”

“Yea, things are grand,” I tell her. Which, of course, is complete shite. Funny how we say that automatically even if it isn’t true, which makes all of us liars at some point during our day. “Welcome back to Shambles.”

She gives a wincing smile as she puts the pot of stew in the middle of the table. “I’d say the same to ye but I’m guessing you’re not to stay long.” She takes her seat beside the Major and eyes Valerie. “I heard the good news. Congratulations.”

“What’s the good news?” the Major asks, even though we’d told him earlier.

“Padraig and this lady here are getting married,” she says loudly and in his ear.

“Oh, that’s a fret,” he says. “Fair play to ye, Padraig, she’s a fine thing.” He looks to my father and my nan. “And you two have been keeping it a secret!”

My father is picking away at his salad, ignoring that. I’ve noticed he’s barely eaten any of it.

“So when is the wedding?” Gail asks, scooping out stew into everyone’s bowls.

“Yes, Padraig. When is the blooming wedding?” my nan asks.

I eye Val and she nods, taking the reins. “We don’t know yet. It depends on Padraig’s schedule, when he goes back to play.”

I try not to wince since I may never go back to play. But she doesn’t know that and neither does anyone else.

“So your concussion is all healed up then?” Gail asks. “That was a brutal hit ye took.”

“It was. Very unlike ye to fuck it up like that,” my dad adds. “I still don’t understand what the hell happened.”