I wake up to screaming coming from downstairs. Finn never came home last night, I don't think. By the time I fell into this bed, though, we'd polished off four bottles of his Jameson. The pounding in my head and the way my stomach rolls tell me I'm going to regret that decision for the rest of the day. Getting out of bed, I trudge down the steps as the yelling gets louder, and I press my palms to either temple.
"Oh my God, shut the f**k up," I holler as I walk into the kitchen.
It goes silent, and I look up to all four of the ladies on one side of the kitchen, Carrigan front and center, her face beet red. On the other side is Dire, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, and Finn. My fiancé is in the same clothes he left in last night. He's dirty with a massive bruise on his cheek a
