I pull up to the pub, and we all get out of the truck. I take charge of the luggage as Fiona makes a beeline for the door.

“It’s excited she is to see her wee babes,” Tom says, that Irish lilt as thick as ever.

“And they’ll be excited to see her,” I agree. Tom rolls one of the suitcases, and I take the other. “How long do you think you’ll be in town?”

“Until after Maeve has the baby.”

“That’s a few months away, at least.”

“It is, aye. Fiona wants to be with her girl for the bulk of the pregnancy. There’s nothing quite like having your ma nearby, is there?”

I wouldn’t know. But I can say that there’s nothing like having Tom and Fiona here.

Before I can answer him, Kane calls, and I answer on speaker.

“What’s up?”

“Hey, are you back on the island?”

“How did you know I wasn’t on the island?”

“Maggie told me.”

“Yes, I’m back.”

“Great, can you please come over to my place? There’s a situation, and Maggie’s having a bit of a fit.”

“I am not having a fit, you arse,” I hear Maggie yell in the background.

Tom snorts next to me.

“Sure, I can come over. Give me about fifteen, okay?”

“Thanks.”

Kane hangs up, and I blow out a breath. “Well, looks like I’ll say hi to everyone and then head over to Kane’s.”

“It wouldn’t be a lovely Wednesday if Maggie wasn’t worked up about something,” Tom says with a laugh. “She’s a spitfire, that one is.”

“You’re right about that, Tom.”

I rest my hand on the other man’s shoulder before we go and find the others.

“Yes, lad?”

“I need to talk to you about Maggie.”

He firms his lips but doesn’t say anything, waiting for me to continue.

“I’m dating her.”

His eyes light with humor, and he smacks me on the shoulder. “It’s about time, my boy.”

“You’re okay with it?”

“Is there a reason I should forbid it?”

I shake my head and rub my hand over my mouth. “No, sir. But I’m older than she is by about a decade, and some might find that disturbing.”

Tom’s quiet as we listen to Keegan and Izzy exclaiming and fussing over Fiona. They’re obviously surprised and excited.

“I’ve known you the majority of your young life,” Tom says at last. “And I couldn’t love you more as a son than if you’d been born from Fiona’s body. You’re part of our family.”

“And I’m grateful.”

He turns to me in surprise. “Grateful? It’s not gratitude that any of us want from you, boy. We just want your love and respect.”

“And you have it, in spades.”