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

to share.” Gavin put the phone on a large mahogany desk and ran a hand over his rugged features. “I don’t fucking believe this. I’m supposed to be getting married today. What am I going to tell Muireann?”
    “It’s up to you what you tell her.” She paused and took a deep breath. “It’s up to you
if
you tell her.”
    His eyes shot up, clashing with hers. “What do you mean?”
    “I mean we can invent a reason for my crashing the wedding. I’m willing to play the part of the loony cousin, keep my trap shut, and pretend the document doesn’t exist.”
    “You mean lie?” he asked in a monotone, his brow creased in thought.
    “Why not? No one will ever know.”
Apart from Olivia, Drew Draper, and who-the-hell-else in Las Vegas.
    “We’ll know. For feck’s sake, Fiona. I can’t commit bigamy.”
    “That’s your decision. I’ve done my duty by telling you. What you do with the information is your call.”
    She was dangling a carrot of hope before him, a way to get out of this bloody mess. A myriad of emotions flickered across his face—jerky, blurry, hypnotic, like an old film reel.
    The door to the vestry burst open.
    “What’s going on in here?” roared Bernard. “What’s the meaning of this, Fiona? Have you lost your mind?”
    “I’m sorry, Uncle Bernard. I had to speak to Gavin.”
    “What? He’s in the middle of marrying my daughter. How dare you interrupt their wedding?”
    “I realize this is a question of some delicacy,” said Father Fagin, his creaky tread following in Bernard’s blustery wake, “but is there any reason the ceremony should not proceed?”
    “Of course there isn’t.” Bernard glowered at Gavin. “Get out there right now and marry my daughter.”
    Gavin straightened, swaying slightly. He brushed off the desk and sent Fiona’s phone flying.
    Bernard caught it and scrutinized the display screen.
    Then he let out an unholy roar.

Chapter Ten
    GAVIN HAD A SPLIT SECOND to react before Bernard lunged. The punch caught him on the chin. He reeled back, and sidestepped a second blow. “Steady on. It’s not what you think.”
    Bernard’s face was mottled, and his eyes were wild. “Not what I think? What the hell should I think? You’re already married to Fiona, yet you were about to marry my daughter.”
    His bellows reverberated off the wooden walls of the vestry. There was little chance the people in the church hadn’t heard. Poor Muireann. Poor Fiona. What a flaming mess.
    “Bernard,” said Father Fagin in the same authoritative voice he’d used when he’d had the misfortune to be Gavin’s secondary school religion teacher. “I will not tolerate violence in my church.”
    Bernard glared at the elderly priest, but Father Fagin stood resolute. Bernard’s jowls spasmed with rage before settling into a stiff mask.
    “May I see the phone?” Father Fagin extended a gnarled hand.
    Bernard’s grip on Fiona’s phone was tight enough to render his knuckles white. He handed it to the priest. “Is this genuine?” he asked.
    “Is what genuine?” Muireann appeared in the doorway of the vestry. Her breathing was shallow. Each breath made her narrow chest heave. Despite the silly dress, she was beautiful—like a porcelain doll in an antique shop.
    Gavin squeezed his eyes shut. This could not be happening. His orderly life was unraveling faster than the curtains Wiggly Poo had desecrated the previous day.
    He opened his eyes and addressed his bride. “I can explain.”
    “Explain what?” She sounded shrill. She looked beseechingly at Bernard. “Daddy, what’s going on?”
    Her father opened and closed his gob, but no words came out.
    “Muireann, my dear, let me examine this for a moment.” Father Fagin peered at the phone through lenses thicker than triple glazing. He lowered the device and shook his head. “Until I know whether or not this is legitimate, I have to assume there’s an impediment to proceeding with today’s ceremony.”
    Muireann’s eyes