“Who gives this woman to wed this man?” Father Pat asked. I’d been so captivated by O’Connell that we were already at the altar.

“I do,” replied Danny gruffly and placed my hand in O’Connell’s as he stepped back.

“You came,” O’Connell whispered, swallowing hard.

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” I asked, and he nodded looking vulnerable.

“You look so beautiful,” he told me.

“Dearly beloved...” Father Pat began, and I gave myself, heart and soul, to the man that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and in return he gave his heart and soul to me.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMAN,” yelled Kieran. “May I present to you the bride and groom, Mr. and Mrs. O’Connell.”

The entire room at St Patrick’s Sports and Social Club stood up and applauded. I held onto my husband’s arm, who incidentally had been grinning from ear to ear since that ludicrously passionate kiss at the altar. He’d forewarned me on the way over that he and the boys had done the best they could with the wedding, but with little money and no notice, they’d come unstuck with the reception, especially with it being Christmas Eve. Father Patrick and Tommy’s mum had, once again, came to the rescue and had leaned on the committee to open up the social club for the evening. The local fish and chip shop served their fare in paper cones for the wedding feast. Personally, I thought it was a fantastic idea, and I still couldn’t believe they’d pulled it all off. With everyone promising to email us wedding photos from their cameras, there was a good chance that we might even have a proper wedding album one day as well. Curtains of fairy lights adorned the walls, and in the cold light of day, I was sure that the club was more than a little shabby looking, but to my romantic love-struck eyes, it was wonderful. We hadn’t arrived more than two minutes when a robust-looking woman with red hair came barrelling toward us. She crossed the entire room with arms wide open, then threw them around me as she reached us and squeezed.

“You are just as beautiful as Tommy said you were, darlin’. Not that I don’t love you like me own son, Con, but if my Tommy had a bit more sense about him, I’d be hugging my daughter-in-law now. You are pretty as a picture in that beautiful dress. I cried when you said your vows, didn’t I, John? I cried.”

She turned around to poor John as she asked him, hand on heart, but as he opened his mouth to reply, the lady started talking again ten to the dozen. Apparently, the question was rhetorical.

“And, Con, you are so handsome. So handsome,” she said, as she reached up on her tiptoes to squeeze his cheeks like you might with a chubby toddler.

“Mary, you’re looking gorgeous, as usual. If I wasn’t a happily married man, John would be in trouble now,” charmed O’Connell.

John didn’t look as though he’d mind anyone running away with Mary. He grinned up at O’Connell and shook his hand, but before he could congratulate us, Mary started again.

“Get away, you charmer. You’ll have to watch out for this one, lovely. He’ll charm the birds from the trees and virgins out of their knickers. Now my Tommy, he’s a good boy and loyal to a fault. You’d never catch Tommy drinking or flirtin’ with other girls.”

Tommy would flirt with a nun if she were half decent looking. In fact, as I thought back on some of the train wrecks that he’d hooked up with since I’d known him, I didn’t think that good looks were even on Tommy’s list of prerequisites. Being a woman, having a pulse and being over eighteen were probably the only attributes on that list.

“Feckin’ hell, Mary. Are you seriously trying to poach my girl for Tommy on our wedding day?”

“Best place to meet a girl is at a wedding,” she beamed.

“Not when the girl is the one getting married,” reminded O’Connell, who started looking a little irate.

“Ah, stop your moaning,” crooned Mary, patting his cheek. “She’s only got eyes for you, boyo. Now if I could find a girl like that, who’d bake a cake for people she doesn’t even know, I’d be a happy woman. You don’t have any sisters do you?” she asked me.

“No. Sorry,” I apologised while I could get a word in.

“Nikki is single, and she’s lovely,” O’Connell told Mary, pointing Nikki out across the room.

“What does she do?”

“She’s a student at the university like Em. They do maths together.”

“Ohh, an educated woman! Now that would do for Tom, someone to give him a bit of sophistication. Does she bake?”

“I don’t think so,” I admitted, hesitantly.

“Well, never mind. I can teach her. Right, then. See you later, lovelies.”

With another pat to O’Connell’s cheek and a bear hug to me, she went storming off toward Nikki. Poor John, his leg still in a cast, went trailing behind her.

“Why did you say that?” I asked him. “Nikki and Tommy are a terrible match. Even if you could get them on a date, I’m pretty sure that one of them would come back missing a limb.”

“If it keeps Mary away from my wife, she can do her worst.”

“I’m getting the feeling that you like calling me that.” I smiled at him.

“I like that you’re mine, Mrs. O’Connell,” he said, cupping my cheek with his hand as he leaned in to kiss me.

“Back at you, Mr. O’Connell.” His lips touched mine, oh so briefly, before the entire room started catcalling and wolf whistling.

“Save it for the honeymoon,” someone yelled. I was bright red and absolutely mortified, but O’Connell grinned proudly.

“I never thought I’d see you married and even more unbelievable you’re dry on your wedding day. That alone is fuckin’ shockin’. Are you sure you’re Irish?”

“Em, this is my uncle, Killian,” O’Connell introduced.

“Pleased to be makin’ your acquaintance,” bowed Killian with a flourish, before kissing the back of my hand.

“Unlike my sister, Sylvia, who is a mean and evil drunk, I am a happy drunk,” he slurred, grinning.

“Nice to meet you,” I offered back, liking this man immediately.

He had none of Sylvia’s malice or artifice, and O’Connell didn’t seem to have any reservations about him.