“I love you too,” I murmur.
When my parents wrap me in their arms, hugging me tight, the tears I’ve been keeping at bay break free.
I wasn’t going to cry, dammit.
“So,” Jazmina interrupts. “Does this mean that Cori and I can just skipthis part when we’re older? Since you’ve already learned where you went wrong with the older three?”
“Absolutely not!” Mami nearly shouts. “You’ll go through as many, if not more, life lessons than your siblings combined,pequeñas divas!”
The girls grumble in annoyance which makes our Papá chuckle. They don’t realize how good they’ve got it, but then again, neither did I at their age. They don’t have the extra task of raising their three year old selves like I did though.
While we wait for Teagan and the boys to come back, I catch my family up on the theme of the spring play, telling them how Teagan lost the bet with Norah. The girls are giggling and my parents are howling with laughter. When I tell them that Norah has a red Devil costume planned for him, I’m slightly concerned that Papá is going to pass out with how hard he’s laughing. His face is beet red and tears stream down his cheeks. I’ve never seen him get this tickled over anything.
“We’re back!” Marcos calls out from the front of the house and we try to school our features before they enter the dining area. “Layla, your boy can do more than just protect the net. Why didn’t you tell me that he…”
He stops short when he sees our father’s face.
“Aye, I’m more than just a pretty face who’s good with his hands,” Teagan’s voice enters the room before his face does. He’s sweaty and red-faced, but has the biggest smile on his face. “You just ask your sis…oh. Hiya, love.”
“Speak of the devil…” Cori mutters, and all of us at the table hold our breath to see who will break first.
To absolutely no one’s surprise, it’s Papá.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Teagan
“No. Absolutely no fecking way am I wearing that. Forget it, Grady.”
It’s the first time we’ve gone out to Paddy’s since coming back from visiting Layla’s family. We had a great time, but I’m delighted to be back home. Or I was until this grand reveal.
“Don’t be such a baby, O’Brien,” Norah laughs, pulling the sketch of me in a shimmering red Devil outfit, fishnet stockings, and matching high heels back to her side of the table. “Yours isn’t even that bad! Ro’s is the worst, and even that isn’t horrible.”
Not that horrible! I beg Eamon to talk some sense, or at least some compassion, into his lass, but he’s clearly siding with the chance of getting laid tonight. Wanker.
“Besides,” Norah continues. “If you had won, you know youwouldn’t let Layla and me out of doing our cheer. It’s not like you’re performing on stage. You’re just modeling the costumes for the actors.”
Scoffing, I glare at the fire sprite. “Oh, is that all? Just my arse exposed and in fucking high heels? I could break my ankle and never be able to play football again!”
Norah winces then concedes, “Okay, no high heels. Just the rest of it! And the makeup will mask your face, so no one will even really know it’s you.”
Eamon groans loudly, “Fuck, I forgot about the makeup. Teagan, you arsehole.”
I’m the arsehole?
Apparently so, because Ro chooses that moment to approach the table and accuse me of being as such. He’s not so cheeky when I show him his costume—a denim Western-themed bustier and matching denim knickers covered in glitter. Oh, and a denim cowboy hat andchaps. His attempt at bribery for Norah to forget the whole deal falls on deaf ears, but when Alicia arrives with a pitcher of water and tells him to suck it up, he changes his tune.
“What the feck is that supposed to mean?” Ro asks indignantly. “Aye, I may know that my body is in pristine condition, but that doesn’t mean I want to go flaunting it in front of Jesus, Mary, Joséph, and the entire drama department!”
For once, I’m in firm agreement with him. There’s a difference between knowing one is fit and showing it off.
“Welcome to the world of women, where we’re expected to look a certain way and dress accordingly to please the male species,” Alicia snaps. “But God forbid something happens to us in those clothes. Then, it’s clearly our fault for dressing provocatively.”
We fall silent, because, not only is she right, but the bitterness lacing her voice implies she has personal experience with this.
“Sorry,” she sighs. “Sensitive subject. Anyway. The point is, don’t be such a baby. Embrace the opportunity and give it your all like you do on the pitch.”
Without another word or even a look at any of us, she pivots and headsback toward the bar. Rowan watches her carefully, his jaw clenched tight. He may try to hide it, but we all know he’s got it bad for Alicia. If anyone hurt her, there’s a good chance he’d fly off the handle. He’s pensive when he turns back to the table and folds his arms across his chest. His mind is working overtime, trying to discover whatever unspoken meaning lies in Alicia’s outburst.
