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Midnight Mooring

Page 111

by Samantha Young

“I’m just glad they’re not gossiping about me.” I raised my drink in thanks.

“Me too!” London clinked her glass to mine.

“Me three.” Taran tried to lean over and failed with a grunt of indignation.

“Uh, me four.” Tierney raised her glass from the booth. “Clink.”

Conversation soon died as the first of the open mic performers graced the stage. It was the younger lad I’d seen with Caoimhe that night here in the Lantern. He was pretty good on his acoustic guitar as he sang a cover of “Run” by Snow Patrol.

Forde slid his arm around the back of my chair, has hand dangling over my shoulder. He had such masculine hands. Big knuckles. Calluses. I loved the way they felt coasting over my naked skin. I leaned into him and he brushed his lips across my temple. My thoughts turned to London’s observation. I knew we would never get back to a sense of normalcy if I didn’t reassure him. I think deep down, maybe I was still holding back out of fear.

Forde had told me he loved me multiple times since that day outside Inverness, and while I’d kissed and hugged him in return, I hadn’t given him the words back.

Maybe that made him feel like he had to earn it.

And that wasn’t true.

I didn’t want to do that to him.

As everyone clapped at the end of the lad’s song, I leaned in and spoke in Forde’s ear, “I love you.”

When I pulled back, Forde searched my eyes. I tried to show him everything I felt. And I knew by the untightening of his shoulders that he recognized the depth of my feelings. “I love you too.”

Only the sounds of our friends’ whoops and cheers brought us out of our stare fest, and we realized it was because Aodhan had announced London and Murray. They were already up out of their seats, and I made a goofy Awww sound very loudly at the sight of Murray taking his wife’s hand.

London gave me the middle finger without looking back, making me laugh right along with everyone else.

“You guys, wait until you hear her.” Tierney raised her phone to film the performance. “She’s so talented.”

It turned out Tierney was correct.

The couple sat next to each other on the stage, Murray with his guitar, London with her mic. I could tell she was nervous because she kept her eyes trained firmly on Murray and not the audience. Murray began first in his sexy, gravelly voice, and it took me a second to realize it was a slowed-down version of “Rein Me In” by Sam Fender and Olivia Dean.

We heard a little of London as she sang in harmony on the chorus. She had a husky speaking voice that made for a lovely, smoky singing voice that perfectly complemented her husband’s. I sank back in my chair, wee goose bumps prickling my arms at how good they were together. When I turned to share my astonishment with Forde, I found him listening with a furrowed brow, his hand fisted on the tabletop. Confused, I looked back at our friends.

As I listened, the lyrics took on a new meaning, and I turned back to my boyfriend.

As London’s gorgeous voice sang clear on its own for the bridge, I slid my hand over Forde’s and threaded my fingers through his. His gaze shifted to meet mine.

I shook my head slightly and mouthed I love you.

Just like that, the bleakness in his countenance was diminished by the warmth. Relief. A wee bit of awe. I think because it kept surprising him how well I could read him.

When London and Murray finished the song, I shot to my feet hooting and hollering, making London mock glower at me while everyone else laughed, accustomed to my antics. But I was a proud friend. I hurried around the table as they returned to us to haul her into my arms. “You were bloody awesome!”

She laughed, hugging me back. “Thanks.”

“Aye, really, you two sounded shit-hot together,” Forde added as we all took our seats again.

“You should write a song,” Tierney suggested.

“Like we have time.” London huffed. “We barely had time to rehearse that.”

“We’ll make time.” Murray pressed a slow kiss to her lips, and she lit up so obviously for him it took everything in me not to tease them again.

London seemed to sense my desire to do so because she whirled on me. “Don’t say anything.”

I squeaked in indignation. “I wasn’t going to.”