I look over at her as she stands and comes toward me. Tears roll down her face as she takes my hands in hers. She kisses my palms before squeezing my hands. “Back in the old days, all the Irish brides wore blue. It isn’t like that anymore because everyone thinks white is the color of purity and all that jazz, but some still try to venture back to those days. I wore blue, not something like this, but it was blue, very plain. But so was your ma’s. It was this color, short with cuffed sleeves, and she wore her hair down, blowing in the summer breeze. I remember that day like it was yesterday.”

I smile, my heart skipping a beat as the memory of her dress comes back to me. “I remember the picture of them. It was almost like sundress because it was all they could afford.”

“Yeah, but my brother said she was the most gorgeous girl in the world, and God bless him, but if he were here right now, he’d say he lied. Cause you, my sweet girl, are simply stunning.”

My lip wobbles as the tears start to roll down my cheeks. “Aunt Shelia, I found my dress. The dress I’m going to marry Declan in.”

“You did, my love. You did.”

Wrapping her arms around me, she hugs me tightly, kissing my cheeks as I cry, but when I look in the mirror, I can see that Mrs. O’Callaghan isn’t happy about it.

Too bad, I don’t care one bit.

“I think you’ll like it.”

Declan smiles before he trails kisses down my throat.

“I sure I will. It’ll be on ya.”

I smile. “It isn’t traditional.”

“Eh, who cares,” he says, kissing my neck.

“Your mom hated it.”

He scoffs. “Again, who cares? It’s your dress, mo stór.”

“Yeah,” I agree, but I am bursting at the seams wanting to tell him everything about it. We only have twenty minutes before the pub opens, and I figured it was enough time to spend with him. Maybe tell him about my dress, even though Fiona swore me to secrecy. It’s just so hard not to though. I want to tell him everything about it, every single detail, and how I feel in it. It’s been three days since I picked it, and I wanted more than anything to bring it home, but it needed to be altered.

I really need to keep it to myself. Why spend time talking about my dress when we could be making out or something? It’s few and far between that we get moments like this. His work schedule is dumb. That’s the only word I can think to describe it. I hate it, but stolen moments like this are kind of fun. As the lightning crashes outside and the rain falls in sheets against the hood of his car, I continue to kiss him, our hands exploring each other’s bodies, making us completely and utterly mad for each other.

“I don’t like being away from ya. Not one bit,” he mutters against my neck as his hands trail up my ribs to my breasts.

“I hate it too,” I mutter before his mouth comes down on mine.

Pulling away, he sucks in a deep breath as he looks deep into my eyes. They are as dark as the storm clouds above, but unlike the menace of the storm, I love the color of his eyes. I love how when he gets turned on they darken, and it pleases me to know I do that to him. My inexperience makes me a little nervous, but it’s times like this that make me feel like I could maybe drive him crazy.

Taking my face in his hands, he kisses me, drawing the kisses from me in a slow, deliberate way that has my toes curling against my flip-flops.

Tearing his mouth from mine, he smiles. “Want to ask ya something.”

“Okay?” I ask, gasping for breath. “Now? We are busy, aren’t we?”

He chuckles but backs away when I try to kiss him. “Sure, but I’ve been waiting to ask this, and I can’t wait any more.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah, I want to come home to ya, darlin’. I want to hold you in my arms and kiss ya to sleep,” he says, moving his hand through my hair. “I don’t know if you wanted to wait till we were married, but I don’t want to wait any longer. We never have a free moment together, and that could change if ya come live with me.”

I blink a few times as he holds my gaze. I was pretty direct when I said I didn’t want to live with his family. “Come live with you…and your family?”

He eyes me but then nods slowly. “I showed ya my room; it’s huge. We wouldn’t see my family unless we go to them.”

“So why did your mom walk in on us?”

He sits back, letting my face go as he watches me. “Because she’s insane. Hell, I don’t know, but it won’t happen again.”

Wringing my fingers together, I look down and clear my throat. “I don’t want to live with your family. I want to live with you.”

“I swear, it will be like they’re not even there.”

“It just doesn’t seem right to me. I want it to be us,” I say, and when he goes to say something, I stop him. “Yeah, I get that it’s a big house and they won’t see us, but I don’t want to live there. I want our own home.”

“But my whole family has always lived there. No one has lived anywhere else but there. They are born there and die there.”

I can see that this is about to go badly. His face is changing from turned on to annoyed. Smiling, I shrug as I say, “I mean, when you are ready to die, I’ll take you back over there.”

He glares as he takes the wheel into his hand. “It’s tradition, Amberlyn. It’s how my family works.”

I look over at him and I’m about to tell him that’s not the way I work, but then I remember what Fiona said. Give a little on some things. Maybe this is something I need to give a little on. I got my dress, the location, and no telling what else I am going to want. I can see that this is something he really wants, something that means something to him, but can I live like that? Always worried that his mom is going to walk in on us?

“The door stays locked.”

“Always,” he agrees with a nod.

I look out the window and take in a deep breath. “And if it doesn’t work out, then we have to look at other options.”

He doesn’t answer me, so I glance over at him, and he holds my gaze. “Yeah, but I’m sure it will.”

“That’s fine, but in case it doesn’t, you promise we’ll look into getting a place of our own.”

He doesn’t nod right away, and I know that he doesn’t want to agree, but then he nods slowly. “Okay, yeah.”