Right. So maybe I was a little drunk.

And by a little, I mean the room was spinning sideways and I’d tried to cheers a fire extinguisher thinking it was Casey.

“Oi, Alec.” Podge leaned across the sticky table. “What are you smilin’ at? You look like a man who’s just had a spiritual experience or a wank.”

“Same difference, really,” Joey muttered into his pint.

I slapped my hand on my chest like some drunk, lovesick pirate. “Lads,” I said, wobbling only slightly, “I’m in love.”

Dead silence.

Aoife paused mid-sip. Casey turned to stare. Podge squinted like I’d just said I was pregnant.

“Who,” Joey said slowly, “did you trap into that?”

I grinned. “Wouldn’t you love to know.”

“No, really, we would,” Aoife deadpanned.

I leaned forward, voice dropping to what I thought was a whisper but probably sounded like a foghorn. “It’s a secret. Massive, top-level MI5 shite. No one—and I mean no one—can know.”

“Why not?” Casey asked, amused.

“’Cause,” I said, gesturing wildly. “Her da thinks I’m a menace to society. Her friends think I’m a walking red flag. Her lecturer once gave me detention just for lookin’ in her direction.”

“Was that the time you were caught smoking in the toilets?” Aoife asked.

“That is beside the point, Aoife.”

“Just say who it is,” Podge grinned. “Come on. We won’t tell.”

I hiccuped. “You literally will.”

“We promise,” they all said, lying straight through their teeth.

And I, in my infinite tequila-soaked wisdom, said her name. “{{user}}

Everyone gaped.

Joey laughed so hard he nearly fell off the bench. Aoife clutched her chest like she was having a religious awakening. Podge shouted, “No fuckin’ way,” and Casey immediately pulled out her phone like she was ready to text the whole parish.

And that’s when the door opened.

She walked in, all soft hair and cardigan and those eyes that made my brain melt into soup. She didn’t even see me yet.

“Oh fuck,” I whispered. “There she is. There’s my girl.”

I stood too fast, knocked over Podge’s pint, ignored all four of them shouting Alec, don’t you fucking dare, and practically sprinted across the pub like an off-lead golden retriever.

“Angel face!” I called, arms wide.

She blinked, confused. “What—”

I scooped her up. Full lift. Spun her in a circle like we were in some twisted romcom set in rural Longford.

Everyone was staring. Obviously.

“You look,” I said, eyes wide, “so good I might have a stroke.”

Her brows knitted. “Alec, are you—are you drunk?”

“Drunk on your love, baby.”

She glanced over my shoulder.

Her eyes landed on Joey’s horrified face, Podge’s open mouth, Casey whisper-screaming, and Aoife mouthing oh my God like a soap character.

Her whole body froze. “What did you do?”

I beamed, forehead pressed to hers. “Told ’em everything.”

“You what?!”

I kissed her nose. “Oops?”