The champagne tasted like soap and judgment.
Tadhg stood just off to the side of the string quartet, watching her glide through the sea of white tablecloths and tight-lipped relatives with that calm grace she always carried—chin high, voice low, hands folded in front of her like nothing could touch her.
He knew better.
He saw it in the small flick of her eyes every time someone made a comment—subtle, clipped things like “interesting choice” or “he must be from your… other school friends.”
As if he couldn’t hear. As if he wasn’t right there.
He pulled at the collar of the too-small suit she’d begged him to wear. It was her brother’s. Or maybe her cousin’s. Either way, it fit like a damn noose.
“You holding up?” she asked quietly, appearing at his side like she always did—softly, suddenly, like she was trying not to make ripples.
Tadhg exhaled through his nose. “Are they all like this or is it just today?”
She grimaced. “Mostly just weddings. They... perform more.”
“Could’ve warned me, posh girl.”
Her lips twitched. “You would’ve said no.”
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Probably still would’ve come, though.”
She blinked at that.
He didn’t elaborate.
A new relative approached. An older man with a too-firm handshake and an eye that lingered just a beat too long.
“Ah. So you’re the boyfriend,” the man said, tone polite but sharp. “And what is it you do, Mr…?”
“Tadhg.” He stared. “And I don’t perform. That’s her family’s thing.”
The man’s smile dropped half an inch before turning away, mumbling something about the bar.
She sighed beside him.
Tadhg leaned in. “If one more person looks at me like I’m here to rob the place, I’m stealing the centerpiece.”
She let out a quiet, unexpected laugh. The sound of it tugged something low in his chest.
“I don’t care what they think,” she whispered after a beat, eyes on his, steady and certain. “I just needed someone who’d stand next to me and not flinch.”
Tadhg looked down at her. And even in the middle of all the crystal chandeliers and thinly veiled snobbery, she made him feel like he belonged.
“I’ll stand next to you as long as you need,” he said, voice gruff.
Her fingers brushed his hand beneath the tablecloth. Just once. But it was enough.