Free Love and Shenanigans (Ballybeg, Book 1) (The Ballybeg Series) by Zara Keane

rollercoaster flip.
Oh, hell
. If only they’d never found that piece of paper.
    “What is the meaning of this, young lady?” The stern tones of the parish priest boomed through the church. For such a small man, Father Fagin had a powerful voice. He placed the bible on the pulpit with trembling aged hands, and creaked down the aisle. When he was a few steps away, he paused and squinted at her through rheumy eyes. “Is that you, Fiona?” The furrows on his brow deepened. “What’s this about?”
    Her legs wobbled but she stood her ground. “I need to speak to Gavin.”
    Father Fagin’s furry gray eyebrows shot north. “Can’t it wait until the reception?”
    “No. I need to speak to him now.” There was a hint of exasperation in her voice. “In private.”
    “What nonsense.” Uncle Bernard stomped out of his pew to loom over her. His walrus moustache bobbed in indignation. “You’ve always been eccentric, Fiona, but this… this is outrageous.”
    “I’m sorry, but I don’t have a choice.”
    “Why?”
    Fiona’s neck jerked. The old zing of awareness made the hairs on the nape of her neck spring to attention. In his ludicrous white velvet wedding suit, Gavin resembled a cross between the blond fella from Abba and the yeti. How he still managed to exude sex appeal was a conundrum she’d rather not contemplate.
    “Why do you need to speak to me?” His deep voice broke in panic. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he must remember Drew Draper.
    Guilt gnawed her insides. “It’s best discussed in private.”
    His mouth opened and closed, fish-like. Eventually, he nodded. “Is there somewhere we can go, Father?”
    “Well, I… Yes. There’s the vestry.” Father Fagin appeared flummoxed. She could hardly blame him. It wasn’t every day a crazy lady burst into his church and crashed a wedding.
    The vestry of St. Mary’s was a small wood-paneled room located at the back of the church. Fiona followed Gavin inside and shut the door behind them.
    He was pale and flustered. “What’s going on, Fiona?”
    “Do you remember Las Vegas?”
    “You want to discuss that now? Seconds before I marry your cousin?”
    “I don’t have a choice, not morally.”
Not to mention legally…
    “What do you mean?” He was pacing the small room, his face the same shade as his suit.
    “We got married, Gavin.”
    “No, we didn’t. The papers were never registered.”
    She exhaled in a rush. “Unfortunately, they were.”
    “What?” His stopped short, his handsome face frozen in an expression of horror. “That’s impossible. Your man—what was his name?”
    “Drew Draper.”
    “He said he wouldn’t register the papers with the wedding bureau.”
    “Well, he did register them, or someone else did it on his behalf. Olivia and I checked the Las Vegas online register, and our wedding details are in there.”
    “No way.”
    “Yes way.” She pulled up the search results on her smart phone and shoved the display in front of Gavin’s face. “See? Fiona Mary Byrne and Gavin Aloysius Maguire, 16 June, 2006.”
    His eyes met hers briefly, then moved toward the glow of the screen. He hesitated before taking the phone, a flash of uncertainty quickly replaced by determination. When he reached out, it was with steady hands.
    As he scanned the contents of the display, his jaw tightened.
    Sick fear sent Fiona’s world into a spin. This was pure sensory overload. A smorgasbord of emotions, and none of them were positive.
    An eternity passed before his eyes rose to meet hers. Those sea-blue eyes framed with dark blond lashes. She’d loved him once. Fiona’s heart did a slow thump and roll.
    “Please tell me this is a joke.” His voice was low and gravelly. The deep bass had always reminded her of James Earl Jones.
    “No joke, Gav. We’re married.” She attempted a nonchalant shrug, but her shoulders were pliable as cement. “By the way, I didn’t know your middle name was Aloysius.”
    “Not something I care