Sanctuary (Family Justice Book 3) (67 page)

T
HE DAY OF
her wedding dawned and found Meghan already up, in her robe, sipping decaf tea, and crossing things off a checklist. Sleeping was a joke. Too much excitement. So she gave up the struggle and simply got ready to meet the day.

A quiet knock sounded. “Come in,” she said quietly. In walked her father. The man who was now and would forever be the first true love of Meghan’s life.

He shut the door behind him and silently walked around the room. He touched the ribbons she’d won at a science fair and smiled wistfully. Picking up a worn and tattered copy of Mark Twain’s
The Prince and the Pauper
, the first book she’d fallen in love with, he thumbed through the pages and stopped on one she’d dog-eared with a quote about the quality of mercy.

At her vanity, he ran his hands atop the usual clutter of female junk. He picked up a bottle of perfume and sniffed. The scent brought another smile to his handsome face. It should since she’d swiped the half-empty glass bottle of L’air du Temps off her mother a long time ago. She hadn’t worn the scent in years, but when she was a teenager, it was her absolute favorite.

On her dresser, he paused for a long time, studying the grouping of framed photos she kept. One was of the whole family taken at an Irish Food & Wine Festival when Finn was still a toddler. Dev, she, and Mike were a rambunctious trio and turned every picture into an opportunity to mug for the camera while her amused parents stood arm-in-arm behind them. She loved the shot. Memory of happy times.

Her high school and college cap and gown pictures were there too. Da lingered over the framed double picture, and she swore his hand shook when he put it down. Picking up a four-by-six of his parents, Meghan struggled when she saw how hard he swallowed. Losing your parents, regardless of them having lived long, happy lives, was something she couldn’t wrap her mind around.

Patrick O’Brien’s warm brown eyes met hers. “You gave your man Grandpa’s watch.”

She nodded. Too much emotion clogged her throat to make actual words happen.

“He’s a good man, Meggie. A good man.” He sniffed. “And his people are an impressive lot. They’re a real family, and I know they’ll do right by you.”

Ah, shit. That was it. Belting her robe, she stood up and went into her dad’s arms. He was crying when he murmured, “Your last time in this bedroom. Where did the years go?”

“I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

They laughed when she blew her nose with a loud honk. “Oh, god. Now, I look like crap.”

He hugged her again. “Happy tears, baby girl. The best kind. Nothing to be embarrassed by.”

Her dad always knew what to say. He wiped her tears as a little girl just as he did now. The bogeyman never stood a chance in the O’Brien house. Not with her Irish cop of a father on daddy duty.

Alex would be like this with their children one day, God willing. She imagined him at some time in the future going into his daughter’s childhood bedroom on the morning of her wedding. She knew he’d do just what her da had. Wander through a lifetime of memories and wonder where the time went.

“Is Mom up?” she asked.

“Yep,” he answered with a slight grimace. “Took care of her tears first.” She made a boo-hoo pout, but he asked, “What did you expect, Meggie? You’re our only daughter. Watching you leave home for good even for a happy reason is hard.”

“Should I go to her?”

He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “Don’t worry about your ma. I’m on the job, twenty-four seven. Besides, she’s already in the kitchen and wearing that horrible pink apron you made her in tenth-grade sewing. Hope you’re hungry because she’d making Lobster Benedict from scratch.”

“My favorite!” she chirped.

He smiled at her. “So we’ll pahk it in the breakfast nook,” he drawled with a deliberately heavy Boston accent, “and read the newspaper, drink Irish tea, and stuff our faces with lobster. One last time.”

A bunch of other things got said. The type of sappy stuff only a father and daughter could share. Before he left the room, Da looked at her. “Don’t forget we have a date, daughter.”

A date? She looked at him quizzically.

After one last kiss on her forehead, he smiled. Happily smiled. “Meet you in the church vestibule for one of our strolls. The most important one we’ll ever take together.”

No doubt about it. She found the pot o’ gold at the end of the rainbow with Paddy and Maggie O’Brien for parents.

“Hanging in there, son?”

“What’s with the damn phone ringing every two minutes?” Alex grumbled. “And why does everyone keep asking me if I’m okay. Did you have some kind of betting pool set up—handicapping whether the groom bolts?”

“Too late for that.” His dad smirked.

“What?”

Cristián Valleja-Marquez’s smile looked so big it must’ve hurt. “Alex, for Christ’s sake. Did you really think we wouldn’t find out?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Alex was a terrible liar. Always had been. It just
so
was not him so keeping an innocent expression while he scrambled to stay ahead of where this conversation was going felt like he was wearing a mask.

“Don’t sweat it.” His dad chuckled. “What you did for your bride was damn cool. My hat’s off to you. For real.” Then he laughed and grabbed Alex into a hug. “Didn’t know you had any of that romance stuff down.”

“Learned a lot over the years from you and Mom. Wendy and Matt too. Guess some of the good stuff rubbed off.”

“Well, thank God for that, huh?”

Damn straight
, he thought.

“Hey,” he blurted out. “Does Paddy know?”

They walked from the terrace into his room and made for the breakfast cart that room service dropped off. He needed some coffee. Like now. Black.

The conspiratorial snicker gave him an answer before his father said any words. “Your Uncle Calder is an equal opportunity snitch. One side of the family in on your little secret was going to hurt a lot of feelings, so he confessed his part to all of us at dinner the first night we met the O’Brien’s.

“Shit.”

Dad smacked him soundly on the back. “The outrage lasted all of about thirty seconds until Calder went into excruciating detail about Meghan and her need for your marriage vows to be sacred. Everybody got it after that. Her folks eased off the ledge pretty quickly. I got the impression that you earned an epic shitload of gold stars for taking her faith seriously.”

“Fuck, Dad. Don’t give me too much credit. I’m serious!” He chuckled when his parent roared with laughter. “If Meghan wanted to say our vows in a hot air balloon with a circus clown as the officiant, that’s what we would have done.”

They took their coffee into the living room and got comfortable.

“Nice try, my boy, but no takers on this end. Your mom and I know what’s in your heart. We realize that going to church isn’t what your generation does, but your own faith saw you through a terrible time. Saw all of us through. You don’t forget stuff like that. I admire your willingness to embrace the sacred. That impulse will serve you well in the years ahead.”

He worked on his coffee in silence—thinking about what his dad said. Hearing the man you looked up to every second of every minute of your life tell you he admired something you did was powerful stuff. Wanting or rather needing his parents to be proud of him, his accomplishments, his choices—nothing quite came close to the feeling he got knowing they thought he turned out okay.

“Dad,” he said after a quiet spell, “thinking about church and stuff reminds me that there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“There’s already one priest in the family, son. Please don’t tell me you’re eyeing up a Bishop’s coat.”

“Yeah, fuck that noise. Too much whiskey in my system for that. And then there’s the body count. Sort of screws my chances for heaven, don’t you think?”

“Hardly,” the man drawled. “War is hell. The lines get blurred. It’s not like anything you did was a matter of free will or purposeful intent. You followed orders.”

Ugh. He shouldn’t have brought this shit up. “Gave orders too.”

“Let it go, son. No good can come from trying to change what happened. Funny thing—the past. No matter how hard or how long we try to alter the facts, what’s done is done. Now, I don’t think this is what you wanted to talk about, so about-face and tell me what’s really on your mind.”

“I’ve been thinking. You know the old homestead? Well, with all the construction going on and the cool way we found to completely separate the Villa and our families from the agency, Drae and I started kicking around doing something with the homestead site.”

“What did you have in mind?”

“You know how this goes. Cam knows somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody who specializes in renovation and restoration. It’s just a thought right now, but we’ve had some back and forth about what’s happening with the old place. It’s pretty much crumbling to dust, and at this point, no one’s sure how much of the original building can be saved, but what would you think about putting a small chapel on the site?”

His dad’s silent regard hung heavily in the room. Alex might have legal control of the Arizona property but this was a family decision.

“I think you’ve become a better man than your mom and I ever dreamed you’d be. A chapel? On the homestead site? Your gramps would be thrilled. And your wife? Good god.”

Great
, Alex thought. That was settled. The more he thought about building a chapel for him, Meghan, and Family Justice, the more he was certain this was what he was supposed to do.

“Maybe while you’re in Arizona after the wedding, you can start the ball rolling. You and Uncle Matt. I’ll have Cam put some things in motion. He’s in charge of the business while Meghan and I honeymoon.”

“Glad to hear that. I like Cameron. He has a good head. Nothing rattles him.” He snickered. “Nothing except that wife of his. Your mom and I have known these Justice guys a long time. Drae is always going to be a wild-ass but Cam? The changes in him are extraordinary. Who knew he had an actual personality?”

“I know, right?” Alex said with true delight. “Lacey changed everything, Dad. She was the first. You know what I mean?”

“Absolutely, I know what you mean, and that’s what makes the new and improved Cameron Justice so mind-boggling. For one so young and so … challenged, she’s shown amazing maturity. Sweeping up the pieces and gluing them all back together could not have been easy. We thought that guy was broken beyond repair and no shit, son. It’s inspiring to see him now.”

“Cam’s my north star, Dad. Especially now with Lacey in his life, he’s the rock of Justice. Steady. Reassuring. I think he’s finally found who he is.”

“Well, Justice will be in good hands then while you’re gone.”

“What time is it?” Suddenly, Alex remembered he had a schedule to stick to. “I need to shower, shit, and shave before my men show up. The havoc generally begins once they’re on the scene.”

“Plenty of time, Alex. Eat something before you get sucked into the day. Gotta keep your strength up.”

Hearing his father’s amused laughter made him shake his head. The big day they’d all been waiting for was finally here. Tomorrow at this time, he’d be flying to Europe with his wife where she belonged—by his side. But before the honeymoon, when he’d finally be able to make love to his sexy Irish beauty, an epic dog and pony show was about to kick off. Angie had done both families proud. The week of events, intimate dinners, sightseeing, spa visits, and general Justice mayhem would be talked about for years to come. It all came down to this. The wedding. His magnificent bride walking down the aisle, coming to him on her father’s arm. Uncle Eduardo sanctifying their union. The chance to announce before God and everyone they loved that from this day forward, they wouldn’t just be Alex and Meghan. The Major and the Teacher. The Nerd King and the Yoga Instructor. The Irishwoman and the Spaniard. They’d be husband and wife. And then, well, then the real wild rumpus would begin!

“Who’s got breath mints? Anybody?”

“Oh, hold on. I think I do.” Angie dug through her bag until she found the roll of peppermints. “Got it,” she announced. Throwing the roll to Lacey, who deftly caught the flying object with one hand, Angie picked up her phone and opened a text message. “Which reminds me,” she murmured to no one in particular, “I forgot to tell Aunt Wendy that she and my mom need to stuff their purses with tissues.”