This wasn’t exactly going to come out of the blue.

“He’s going to be over the moon,” Fiona said softly, reading my mind. Or maybe the wrinkle in my forehead.

“I hope so,” I replied weakly.

“I know so,” she replied firmly. “That motherfucker is so in love with you, it would sicken me... If I didn’t love you so much and want to see you living out your own little American dream. You have a real one, you know? Not the kind that looks shiny like veneers but underneath there’s really just pointed nubs of teeth. The kind with the crippling debt people take on so they can keep up the affair with the secretary, that kind of thing.”

I smiled, cradling my not so flat stomach—which had to do with my affinity for sugar rather than the pregnancy. I didn’t feel completely at peace, I was still bracing for the bad since I couldn’t trust that life could be this good.

I tried to push the negative thoughts away, but while thinking about the worst things that could happen, my mind went to what Rowan told me about Kip.

“Do you know… everything about him?” I asked carefully. Even though this whole thing had been a whirlwind, I figured he’d told her about that life-changing, traumatic event from his past.

Fiona screwed up her face. “I know he’s got a six-pack and a prize hog, that’s all I need to know.” She peered at me. “What do you know?”

Shit.

Okay, so he hadn’t told her. And it definitely wasn’t my place to tell her, even though I thought it was the kind of thing that was way too important to hide from the woman you were marrying.

“Nora,” Fiona warned, putting down her glass. “You know something.”

“No, I don’t,” I squeaked.

“You’re a fucking terrible liar,” she folded her arms in front of her. “And I’m not getting married if you know he’s like a secret serial killer or claps when planes land.”

“If he was a serial killer and I knew, do you really think I’d let you marry him?”

She put a hand on her hip, regarding me thoughtfully. “No, I guess not,” she decided. “But you still know something, and you are duty bound to tell me.”

Fuck.

Though it was my duty to share what I knew with my girlfriend, it only went so far.

“I just, um, he was deployed with Rowan. They went through some heavy stuff,” I said, not lying. “Has he shared that part of his life with you?”

“No,” she sighed. “But I watched The Hurt Locker.”

“Fiona,” I groaned. “That is not funny. He served this country.”

She rolled her eyes. “You Americans are so fucking fanatical about that shit.”

I kept my gaze stern. “If you’re going to be an American married to a veteran, you better know and respect what that means.”

“Yes, Mom.” She saluted me.

There was a knock at the door.