Page 41 of Fire Island (Fire Island #2)

Thirty-Nine

CALLUM

A pparently, the chat Reese and I had last week about focusing on keeping his head down and finding honest work didn’t take. Before Reese moved back to the Bay to start the job hunt, we hashed out what was okay in this tiny little seaside town and what was not.

But now, I stand outside Iris’s café with an irate Errol. Iris stands behind the counter, pretending to dry up shake glasses as she peers at us.

“Keep your good-for-nothing kid away from my granddaughter, you hear?” Errol spits.

I lean back on my heels, trying my best to avoid his spray. Say it, don’t spray it, old man. His finger points at my chest.

“This is history fucking repeating itself. That’s what this is. You nip this shit in the bud, McCreary.”

“Calm down. The boy lives here, Errol. He’s not stalking your granddaughter.”

Doesn’t that phrase take a whole new meaning now.

He scoffs. “Lives here? Now that isn’t going to end well, and you know it.”

“I don’t know, maybe he’s a generous tipper...” I chuckle. I can’t resist stirring the old prick up. I swear, a smile tries its damn hardest to tug that shriveled mouth of his upward.

He glares at me.

Nope. Must have imagined it.

“You about done? I’ve got somewhere to be,” I say with a sigh.

I don’t think our families will ever get on, despite Ava’s reappearance and Paige working—happily, I might add—for Iris.

“You watch that boy like a hawk, or I swear to god.” Errol stalks off in the direction of the watchhouse.

Some things never change.

Em bursts through the café door. “Geez, Cal. We got to get going, or Iris is going to serve my balls to the next paying customer.”

“Right, I’m ready when you are.”

Time to head up to Rockland and pick up our suits. Not that I had any intention of wearing a full suit to a beach wedding. But what makes my girl happy, I do. Em fires up his truck, and I climb in. “Oh, I have to run an errand up there after we grab the suits.”

“What you got going on?” he asks.

“Ordered in Evie’s wedding present.”

“Let me guess, a cargo shipment of books?”

“Nah, something a little lighter.” I smile at him, and he frowns over the grin stretching his face, confusion lining his eyes.

“You’ll see. Hopefully,” I add.

“Hopefully?” Now his brow raises as the truck pulls away from the curb.

“Yup. The timing has to be right, and we’ve been monitoring the progress for days.”

Em’s gaze alternates between me and the road. “Now I need to know...”

All I can do is smile at him as I give him the rundown on the gift I’ve been wanting to give Evie since the day she told me about T and his dead-insect-laden letters.

The sun sets behind me as the officiant beams at me.

Em stands to my right. Iris at my left.

My family.

Which is about to go from a party of four to five.

A lone fellow Scot stands on the dune where the grassy island meets the shore, bagpipes at the ready. The first note he plays whines through the air, and we all turn in unison.

Evie walks past the older man who plays “Caledonia” in traditional highland dress, his kilt waving in the late afternoon breeze.

Holding a cluster of flowers from the greenhouse, Evie passes the island’s boundary where land meets sea, padding down the sand toward us.

Her dress sweeps over the sand, its silken material fitted to her elegant curves.

The sweetheart neckline is held in place with two fine lacy-capped straps.

Em and Iris take a step back, Iris sliding her arm through Em’s, her elegant frame leaning into his side as her green dress tangles around her legs.

Brown eyes find mine when I turn back.

My arms, previously crossed over my body, fall to my side before I clasp my hands together. Grinding my jaw shut, I tamp down the emotion currently closing over my throat.

A trio of people I don’t fully recognize, escorted by Reese, walk across the grassy area following behind at a distance. Better late than never. Reese brought them over on Firefly. The boy has taken to the sea like a duck to water. A little something Iris arranged for Evie’s wedding gift.

And I can’t wait to meet them. Evie comes to stand in front of me, turning and handing her flowers to Iris. It’s then she catches the people crossing the island casually. Like they’re not about to wreck my girl’s heart in the best way possible.

“Oh! What?!” Her face breaks. Hovering, she searches my face. “Cal?”

“That was all Iris, baby girl.”

She looks to Iris with a sob before hitching up her long dress and flying back up the sand to her parents and who I assume is Allie.

“Thought they couldn’t make it?” Em whispers, leaning over to where I stand.

“Yeah, it took a few video chats to get her old man to come around.”

“You’re her old man now.” Iris snickers.

“Goddamn, Irry,” I growl.

“The hell?” Em says at the same time.

The moment is like a catalyst of joy as laughter splits the air around us.

“Daddy, this is Cal,” Evie says, dragging her father behind her. He’s tall and lithe like his daughter. You can see where she gets her dark features from.

“Pleasure to finally meet you in person,” Carl says.

“In person?” Evie’s mouth gapes.

“We did that online chat thing a few times,” Carl offers.

“Video call?” Evie asks, her face looking like she could die from embarrassment at any second.

“Yeah, that one.” I wind my arm around her waist and plant a kiss to her temple.

“Cal,” Vanessa says, “thank you for taking care of our little girl.” She holds her arms out, and Iris all but shoves me into them. Evie’s mother squeezes me tight, and now I feel like a damn kid.

“Mrs. Holland, you are going to suffocate the poor man,” a new voice says.

As I’m finally released, I find Evie holding her hand, bumping shoulders like long-lost friends.

“Allie?” I ask.

“You got it, grumpy lighthouse man.” She grins and thumps a fist into my shoulder and weaves on the spot, beaming. I shake my head at her. The girl’s a goof.

“Well, we getting these two married, or what?” Em says as Reese comes to my side; he cleans up nice in a shirt and tie.

“Yes, most definitely.” Carl chuckles.

“Thank you, Daddy.” Evie kisses his cheek and comes to stand in front of me again. Everyone takes their place and the officiant, who’s been waiting patiently, clears her throat.

“We are gathered here today . . .”

Iris and Em took the wedding party back to the café to prepare our little wedding soiree.

But we have one more stop before we board Firefly for the first time as Mr. and Mrs. McCreary and cross that span of water.

Dancing our way over the grass to the tune of the sounds of the forest, the sea, and the twilight breeze as stars pop overhead, we head for the house.

“You going to carry me over the threshold, Mr. McCreary?”

I spin her around, her gorgeous dark waves billowing around her shoulders as those browns light up even more.

“Nonnegotiable, Mrs. McCreary.”

My face hurts from smiling. My grump-fueled self is not equipped for this much damn happiness. I sweep her from her feet on the next twirl and stop. Her laughter fades, and I dot a kiss to her forehead.

Fucking mine .

Always was. Always will be.

“Ready?” I breathe.

Worrying her bottom lip playfully through her teeth, she simply nods.

I pad for the front door and kick it open.

Her head hangs over my arm as she cackles.

I step over the threshold.

And we’re home. To be fair, my home is this incredible woman. Where she goes, I go, from this day forward.

I don’t want to put her down.

Not having her in my arms isn’t how I would have planned on spending the rest of the day. But we can’t keep our family waiting, so I set her down.

“We could just go upstairs and stay there. No one will miss us, husband,” she coos.

Christ, the sound of that steals my breath and leaves me hard all in a heartbeat. I tug her into my chest, dropping my lips to her ear. “They absolutely will. So we better make this quick.”

“Make what quick?” She angles her head, a quizzical expression taking over her face.

“Your gift from me is upstairs.” I spin her around. “On the bed.”

“I think I know what it is,” she breathes.

“Nope, not this time.”

“Okay, now I need to see it.”

“Aye aye,” I say, sweeping her into my arms.

She throws her head back with a laugh that fills my heart so full. One step at a time, her laughter peters out. As I cross the bedroom threshold, I lower her on her feet and turn her to face the bed. “Deep breath, baby. Be brave one more time, mo ghràdh,” I whisper, the words brushing past her ear.

She steps toward the bed. I lean back and close the door, double-checking the windows are shut.

The large white box is wrapped up in a wide silver bow. She slips the small envelope out from under the ribbon. Sliding a finger under the flap, she glances back as she opens it.

I wrap around her from behind and read it for her, wanting my voice to carry the words for this moment.

“Evie, what can a man say to the woman who patched him back together, saw him for who he truly is, and stood by while he relearned it all for himself? I don’t think a word exists for it.

But if it did, mine sounds like the perfect syllable.

We have come so far and never even left this little island.

Open your present, baby girl. See how far you’ve come, my Fire Heart . Callum.”

Her hand trembles around the paper. She turns, planting a kiss on my jaw. Tears streak her beautiful face.

“Go on, open it,” I rasp, emotion turning my expression gravelly.

“What is it?”

“ Victory , Fire Heart.” I let my tongue roll on each R to emphasize the importance of the moment.

She stares at me for a beat before tugging at the ribbon. The two flaps of the lid are only half closed by a small strip of tape, and she peels it back. I drop my head to her shoulder, kissing her neck before I whisper, “Tha gaol agam ort.”

Fine fingers pry the lid panels open.

On the prettiest gasp a man’s ever heard, her breath stops.

Hundreds of orange monarch butterflies soar from their confines. The fluttering cloud surrounds us in our small bedroom. Evie raises her head, turning it as wonder fills her face. Her hands cover her mouth and nose.

The fluttering calms a little as some settle, landing on furniture around our bedroom, while others circle the room, free and wild. The potted flowers I have around the room brighten the space. A few nectar trays lie on top of the wardrobe to keep them fed and happy.

“They’re magnificent,” she breathes and turns back, sliding her arms around my neck. “I love them. Do we really have to go to the party?”

“It’s our party. And your wee winged friends will be here when you come home. You have a whole two weeks with them.”

She huffs a breath and lifts her head to behold them as they flurry about our room. One lands on her head before another comes to rest on my shoulder. Retracting her arm carefully, she holds her finger beside it. I regard her with absolute awe as the tiny little insect steps onto her finger.

And my girl smiles.

Her fear now well and truly replaced by adoration.

The darkness that once shrouded Evie obliterated by her light.

This little woman, my fucking woman, outshines this old lighthouse. And it just so happens I am the luckiest man alive, because she chose to shine her light on me.