Mal's party

Kian

Aoife wanted to throw Mallory a birthday party—and of course, she roped me into it. Not that I minded. I'd do anything for Mal, even if it meant being lowkey terrorised by her mam in WhatsApp messages for two weeks straight.

The mission: get her to Conor's house by half five. Keep her off her phone. Act normal.

Simple, right?

Except Mallory's suspicious of everything now. Girl's got a sixth sense for secrets. I swear if I so much as blink weird, she's side-eyeing me like I'm plotting war crimes.

So I took her to the cinema. One of the only solid plans in Cork that doesn't involve drinking—which I wouldn't let her within a five-mile radius of anyway. Not with our little girl kicking away in her belly like she's training for Riverdance.

"What're we seeing again?" she asked, waddling slightly beside me as we reached the ticket desk. Not that I'd say she waddled out loud. I value my life.

"Eh... some romcom you picked like three weeks ago and forgot about," I smirked, handing over the tickets Aoife bought online. "You said it had 'that lad with the floppy hair and emotional damage' in it."

"Ohhh. Class." She grinned, clearly satisfied.

Honestly, I didn't care what we watched. She could've picked a film about paint drying and I'd have sat through it, happily, just to watch her laugh and stuff her face with popcorn. Which she did. Salted and sweet, obviously, because she's pregnant and unpredictable.

Halfway through the movie she leaned over and whispered, "You're acting suspicious."

"Babe," I whispered back, "I'm always suspicious."

She narrowed her eyes at me like she knew I was full of shite, then went back to watching some lad cry on a train.

I kept checking the time subtly. Five thirty was creeping up quick and I'd already gotten two texts from Aoife:

AOIFE: Don't let her da see her, he's picking up the cake.AOIFE: Also, if she figures it out, pretend it was all YOUR idea.

Classic.

As the credits rolled, I stood up, stretching like I hadn't just spent the last two hours on high alert. "C'mon," I said casually. "Got one more place to stop."

She raised an eyebrow. "Another surprise?"

"Nooo," I lied. "Just... a detour."

She didn't believe me, but she let me lead her to the car anyway, hands resting on her bump, that little smile playing on her lips like she already knew something was up but was enjoying the game.

I drove us toward Conor's place, heart thumping like I was about to propose or confess to a crime.

And I couldn't wait to see the look on her face when everyone jumped out yelling "SURPRISE!"

She was going to kill me.

But she'd love it.

The second we turned onto Conor's road, Mallory's eyes narrowed.

"This isn't the way home," she said, arms folded over her belly, giving me the side-eye like she was already preparing to file a complaint.

"Relax," I said, keeping my tone casual. "Your da's wants me to drop something off for your mam, remember? She told us to swing by and grab it on the way."

"Uh-huh." She didn't sound convinced. "And we couldn't go home first because...?"

"You'll live," I muttered, pulling into the driveway. I swear she was seconds away from figuring it all out.

Still, she climbed out, hand on her bump, muttering something under her breath about how "nothing with me is ever straightforward."

I rushed to open the front door before she could get too suspicious, praying everyone was actually ready.

And thank God—

"SURPRISE!"

Lights on. Balloons everywhere. A big pink and gold banner with Happy Birthday, Mal! across the archway. Aoife had outdone herself—there were fairy lights strung across the ceiling, a ridiculous amount of cupcakes, and a cake shaped like a baby bottle (which I know was Serena's idea).

Mallory froze in the doorway, blinking as half her family and all our mad friends grinned at her like a bunch of lunatics.

She turned to me slowly. "You absolute snake."

I laughed. "I was under orders, babe."

Her eyes scanned the room—Serena waving wildly from the kitchen, Dean with a party hat already on sideways, Luke and AJ by the speakers arguing over music, even Shannon and Johnny looking smug in the corner.

Then she turned back to me—and she smiled.

Like, that real smile. The one that reaches her eyes and softens her whole face, the one I'd do anything to see. And right then I knew it was worth it. All the sneaking around. The over-the-top planning. The stress.

She leaned in and kissed me quickly. "Okay... you're forgiven."

"Yeah?" I asked, wrapping an arm around her. "Even for the bit where I made you watch that shite movie just to kill time?"

She grinned. "Even for that."

Someone—probably one of her many uncles, Tadgh I think his name was—passed her a mocktail and a paper crown. Serena dragged her into the middle of the room to open presents, and I watched her laugh, one hand always drifting down to the bump like she was reminding herself our little girl was part of this too.

Her da came over at some point, handed me a slice of cake and clapped a hand on my shoulder. "You did good, lad," he muttered. "She looks happy."

She was happy. And so was I.

Because this? This was the kind of night I'd always wanted to give her.

Just the beginning.

I was never leaving this girl. Not after everything. Not after watching her light up in that kitchen, surrounded by the people who loved her, laughing like she hadn't cried in my arms two nights ago because she was scared out of her mind about becoming a mum.

She was everything. The bravest, maddest, most stubborn person I'd ever met—and I wanted her forever.

I don't care that we're only seventeen. I don't care that people would say we're too young, or that we've no clue what we're doing.

Because I do know one thing.

I want her to be my wife one day.

Not just the mother of my kid. Not just my girlfriend. But my wife.

My everything.

There was this moment, when she caught me watching her from across the room—her hair half falling out of that braid Serena did, mocktail in hand, baby bump taking up half her lap—and she smiled at me like I was her whole world.

That was it. The moment I knew.

I'd do right by her. Always. No matter what.

One of her uncles—Sean, I think Aoife had said—wandered over and stood next to me, cracking open a can. He didn't look much older than AJ, maybe twenty-one, twenty-two tops. Bit of stubble, same cheeky grin as the rest of the Kavanagh-Lynch's, like mischief ran in the blood.

He held out a beer toward me. "Want one, mate?"

I shook my head. "No thanks. Driving."

He gave me a look, like he already knew. "Fair. You're the dad, yeah?"

I nodded.

He took a sip, eyes on Mallory across the room. She was trying to put her paper crown on Serena's head while Conor cackled and tried to stick party stickers on her bump.

"You're stickin' around?" Sean asked, casually, but there was something underneath the question. Something protective.

"Yeah," I said, firm. "Not just for the baby. For her."

He looked at me for a second longer, then nodded slowly. "Good. She deserves someone solid."

"I know."

A silence stretched for a beat before he smirked. "Also, if you ever do mess it up—just remember she's got a lot of uncles and cousins. And some of us know where to find you, not me but my brothers."

I laughed, but I didn't miss the truth under the joke. "Noted."

He grinned and clinked his can against my empty hand anyway, then wandered off to join the others. And I just stood there, watching her laugh, heart stupid full.

Yeah.

I was staying.

Mallory caught me watching her and made a face across the room—one of those over-exaggerated "what are you looking at?" looks that made her nose scrunch and her eyes light up. I gave her a half-shrug and mouthed, "You."

She rolled her eyes but smiled, turning back to whatever Serena was saying, and I just stood there like a gowl, grinning to myself. Probably looked like an eejit, but I didn't care.

Sean had wandered off to bother Johnny, and someone had stuck a party hat on Conor, which he was taking way too seriously, parading around like he was the king of the house. I glanced at my phone—5:58. Aoife's texts from earlier still open:

AOIFE: You better get her here on time or I'll skin you.AOIFE: And don't let her catch on or she'll kill us both.

Successful mission, I'd say.

I was just about to head over and finally sit beside Mal when I felt a small tug on my hoodie. It was Caoimhe, Conor's little sister, holding out a balloon like it was some sacred offering.

"For the baby," she whispered, all wide-eyed.

I knelt down a bit, taking it carefully. "She'll love it. Thanks, Caoimhe."

She beamed and skipped off again, and I turned back toward Mallory—only now she was already halfway across the room, making her way over to me like she'd had enough of pretending to care about presents or cake or anything else that wasn't us.

"You alright?" I asked as she reached me, sliding an arm gently around her.

She leaned into my side, head on my shoulder. "Yeah. Just needed to stand with you for a sec."

I looked down at her, brushing some of her hair out of her face. "Tired?"

"A bit. And emotional. I nearly cried when Conor gave me that handmade card, and it had a dodgy drawing of me, the baby, and you with no nose."

I laughed. "I love that he made me bald. Kid's a menace."

She looked up at me then, eyes soft. "Thank you. For all this."

I shook my head. "It was your mam. I just followed instructions."

"Still." She reached up, her fingers brushing my jaw. "You're always there. You make everything feel... easier."

My chest tightened a bit. I wasn't used to being that for someone. Steady. Safe. But with her, I wanted to be.

"Always," I said quietly. "You, me, and our little girl. That's it, yeah?"

She nodded, eyes glistening a bit now. "Yeah."

And I swear in that moment, with everyone around us laughing, shouting, being their usual loud Kavanagh- Lynch selves—I felt it.

This wasn't just a party.

This was home.

Their home.

My home.