Tommy's Baby - Annie J. Rose Page 0,1

their relationships made them and how they had become the best version of themselves by finding love and starting a family. That wasn’t my path, and I was okay with it most of the time.

I couldn’t avoid the jealousy always, but it rode in my gut then. Lonely and envious as hell.

For a split second, I shut my eyes and I wondered if Liza would like these women. I could see her there, clinking her glass with Karin’s and demanding fried pickles even though they’re not on the official menu. Her too-loud laugh and her irreverent sense of humor would fit right in. But that was a lifetime ago, and I hardly ever thought of her anymore. It was just the sight of the O’Shea wives together and having fun that made me think of her, of the only woman in my entire life who I’d wanted to settle down with. Liza Jo Kelly. The one that got away.

My oldest brother Connor came up and snapped me with the bar mop towel he carried over his shoulder.

“You keep looking at our wives like that and it’s gonna be time for a good old-fashioned O’Shea ass beating, baby brother,” Connor said. “We could use some help at the bar after you’re done charming the girls.”

I snapped out of it, rolled my eyes at him, and clapped my hands for the crowd’s attention.

“Tonight, you’re every one of you an honorary Irishman—the ladies too—and the way the Irish express their joy is through dancing.”

I gave them my grin that dared them to be brave enough to try, to stave off the specter of future regret and let their hair down.

I started clapping the beat before I even queued up the music. I got the patrons clapping along with me. My sisters-in-law were the first to join in. They had all done the jig dozens of times—some of them like Elise still did it really badly but with plenty of fun energy—and it was good to have them here to encourage the crowd. Karin, clearly feeling the effects of her drink and acting giggly and relaxed, started trying to coax a table of girls to get up and join in. I complimented the frat boys on their Guinness order—showed sophistication and true Irish spirit, or so I said, and one by one they stood up to try the jig.

I had seventy or eighty people on their feet, clapping to the folk music before I stood in the middle of the ring of tables and broke down the simple jig step by step for them.

I started a number from the old Riverdance production that I’d seen as a kid and showed off my step dancing. Soon I had twenty or so patrons back on their feet, gamely stomping along while others videoed with their phones or clapped along. At the end of the song, I wiped sweat from my eyes, took a bow and told them all to be sure and tag O’Shea’s Pub in their social media posts of the evening. After the strenuous and sweaty dancing, drink orders poured in. I manned the bar alongside Connor.

“You like hot-dogging for those crowds like nothing I’ve ever seen. Guess you missed the modesty gene in our family.”

“I wasn’t aware there was anyone humble in the O’Shea clan. Lot of egos and big mouths from where I’m standing,” I said.

“This from the man who was checking out my wife.”

“I was not checking out your wife.”

“Okay, you were checking out all our wives. Were you trying to pick a favorite?”

“You all did well for yourselves. I approve of your choices.”

“Looking to make a choice for yourself?”

“I have made a choice for myself. Bartending, nightly jigs, and the company of any woman I choose for the night.”

“Trust me, Tom. You’re better off not settling for one night.”

“Who says I’m settling?” I asked.

“I did. I say you’re selling yourself short, closed off from anything real. You act like it’s all fun and games but—"

“I swear to God if you say I’m not getting any younger I’m checking to make sure you’re not Mom wearing a disguise and pretending to be my brother,” I said.

“Whatever, bro,” he said, annoyed with my unwillingness to listen.

“Not everybody’s cut out for marriage, you know,” I said. “I like my life the way it is. I don’t need to start breeding tiny O’Sheas to prove I’ve succeeded.”

“We’ll breed plenty of them without you,” he said. “We’re off to a good start at any rate.”

“I’ll