A VERY UN-SHAKESPEARE ROMANCE: ‘A Fake Dad Grumpy Sunshine Romantic Comedy’

Robbie flopped onto the way too pristine white couch in the new rental house.

“I am never going on another car trip again.”

He scrubbed his face as he thought of all the tough things he’d done today. Going to Internal Affairs for the first time in his life. Turning in Kelly mob money that had been in his favorite cousin’s possession, along with his personal and professional cell phones so no one could track them. Involving his partner in the ordeal. Lying to his supervisor and fellow cops about being on vacation. Taking an encrypted IA computer so he could receive secret messages from either Roland or Mickey on any updates on the case that was now open with his cousin’s name on it.

And he’d called his brother Danny and instructed him to buy their father an airplane ticket on the first flight out to Ireland so the Kellys couldn’t put the squeeze on him. His brother had wanted to ask questions, of course, but he hadn’t been able to provide details other than that Tara was in trouble, and he, Billie, and Tim were taking the girls to an undisclosed location. He’d also asked him to give the other O’Connor brothers a heads-up so they could watch out for each other.

Danny was a hard sell, always had been, but that hadn’t been the toughest part of his day. No siree. Try driving twelve hours to the Outer Banks until five o’clock in the morning with two babies, the children, and a pissed-off cat—the babies being his brothers. It had been enough to grind a man down to dust.

“Thank God the girls finally fell asleep and stayed that way through us carrying them inside,” he muttered, wanting to plant himself face down on the nearest bed and sleep until the nightmarish day was gone from his mind.

“You said it, brother.” Billie kicked at Robbie’s feet before dropping down next to him on the couch. “That was the car trip from hell. I’m done with kiddie cartoons and potty breaks. Don’t get me started on the diaper changing. Eight times is crazy. I still say Tim should change all the diapers since he does it in his regular job.”

Robbie snorted with laughter along with Billie as Tim walked back in with beers despite the early hour. “I know I shouldn’t be laughing since you both up and left everything when I called. Thanks, by the way.”

“It’s what family does,” Billie said, fist-bumping him.

“What Billie said.” Tim held out two opened beers. “And you really shouldn’t talk about people in retirement homes like that. They can’t help their incontinence. It hurts their pride.”

Tim’s response was exactly why Robbie had called him to come along, being a nurse and the only person in their family with a sensitive, caretaking streak. But Jesus, he must be tired, because when Billie started to laugh again, it kicked him off. “Tim, I know it’s not right,” Robbie said through laughter, “but I can’t seem to stop laughing.”

“You’re stressed to the max, so you get a pass this time.”

Tim sat across from them on the matching white leather ottoman. Robbie nearly winced at how Architectural Digest this place was, a magazine he’d only glanced at once in the dentist’s office because all the others had been taken. He liked things clean and orderly, but the theme of this place fairly screamed two things: beach and family-friendly, from the boating and ocean subjects in the paintings and knickknacks and inspirational sayings hanging from the walls like Beach Life is Sunshine and Smiles, I Can See Clearly Now, and his favorite, Life is Better in Flip-Flops. Kill him, right now.

“Also, you’re going to have to clean your mouths up.” Tim tipped his beer at them accusingly. “You can’t be saying fuck and shit and everything else you string together around Reagan and Cassidy.”

“But fuck is my go-to word,” Billie complained. “If I stop using it, I won’t have anything to say. I’ll be a mute. Like in Monty Python.”

That sent Robbie into even more laughter. “Come on, Tim. That was funny.”

“Keep it down, will you?” Their baby brother jerked his head toward the stairs. “The girls might have been asleep when we tucked them in, but they won’t be if you keep braying like hyenas.”

“Mother hen is already doing her job.” Billie slugged his beer and groaned. “God, I needed that. I never knew kids had so many questions or needed to play with something every f—reaking minute. Were we like that? Mom would have killed us. I mean, what the hell would I have played with—”

“Yourself,” Robbie broke in.

“Right? Big Stallion does like to come out of the pasture.”

This old dick joke led to more snorting laughter from him, but he was glad Tim joined in this time. Their youngest brother always had the hardest time feeling like he belonged. Mostly because they were rough and sometimes crude, and Tim wasn’t.

“I never asked so many questions,” Billie continued on his rant. “What state are we in now? Why does that cloud look so weird? Don’t you just love Miss Purrfect’s collar?”

Robbie had to wipe tears leaking from his eyes as he guffawed at Billie’s girlish impression. “Why in the world did Tara name that cat Miss Purrfect? That feline is the farthest thing from perfect. It’s downright hostile.”

Tim’s lips twisted as he drank his beer. “That’s because you’ve taken it out of its environment and keep glaring back at it. And Tara told me she named that cat perfect because she wanted her girls to know it’s all right to snarl and scratch when they have to—and it doesn’t make them bitches. Just independent women.”

Billie slapped his forehead. “You’re kidding! Wait. I thought dogs were the bitches. Not cats.”

Robbie’s shoulders shook with laughter. “You think Tara, who had no trouble telling Sister Mary Louis that she couldn’t make her do something she didn’t want because God gave her free will, would care about that little detail?”

“God, I forgot that story.” Billie got a nostalgic smile on his face. “I can still see Sister’s blank shock as she stood there in front of our class. That nun was never speechless. Mom laughed when Tara came home with me that day to do her homework.”

“And Mom usually didn’t laugh about discipline issues,” Robbie said with fond remembrance. “But Sister was in the wrong for trying to make Tara stop wearing ribbons in her hair. From the minute she had hair, she wanted something pretty in it.”

“Her girls are the same way,” Billie said with a laugh. “Reagan asked if I could change the bow in her hair while you were driving. She said she wasn’t feeling it anymore. Can you believe that?”

“You drive different cars depending on your mood,” Tim pointed out, as if it wasn’t a well-known fact that Billie had a collection of them, or near enough, because he liked renovating old cars in his spare time. “Tara—and now her girls—beautify. I think it’s cute.”

“Well, I think it’s a little nutso, especially since Reagan asked me to make sure the bow was straight. The point is, I’m having Father O’Malley say a mass for our dear mother and all the others out there who put up with this crap. And I’m seriously considering snipping my you-know-what to make sure I don’t end up having to raise any kids who ask ridiculous questions and want me to do things like adjust their glittery bows.”

“You might give it a few months before making that kind of decision,” Tim pointed out with an eyeroll. “But if you’re already cracking after a car trip of barely thirteen hours, I can’t wait to see how you are in three or four days.”

Billie’s response was to pick up a small seashell from the glass coffee table decorated with them and throw it at their brother.

He caught it deftly. “And you should stop throwing things. We need to set a good example for the girls.”

“We roughhoused as kids,” Robbie put in. He took another swig of his beer, mentally thanking Tara for thinking to pick it up. “With Kathleen, if you recall.”

“Our baby sister is more like a guy thanks to all of your brotherly influencing.” Tim stood and gently put the shell back on the coffee table. “Tara’s girls are girly girls like her. We can’t treat them the same way.”

“You mean we can’t take them to the salvage yard or give them a welding set for Christmas like we did with our sis?” Billie asked.

Kathleen had become a metal artist, so Robbie figured they’d done something right. But from the look Tim was giving Billie, he decided he’d better not say so.

“Baby bro,” Billie continued, “if you start listing all of the things I can’t do, you’re going to find yourself pantsed and dumped in the ocean out there.”

Billie’s threats and imposing nature was the very reason Robbie had asked him to come along, but he knew it was time to intercede. “None of us are going to like refraining from cussing or throwing things at each other—”

“Basically not being ourselves,” Billie added sullenly.

Robbie turned and gave him the I’m the oldest brother look. “Come on. You know he’s right.”

“You planning on putting away your grumpy OCD tendencies?” Billie’s smile showed teeth. “Because if I have to stop saying fuck and throwing things, then you’re going to have to quit your gruff and surly moods from not getting laid enough.”

Hadn’t he equated putting bad guys in jail with being as good as sex? But he wasn’t going to let the other hit land. “Gruff and surly, my ass. I’m a cop in Southie. What the hell am I supposed to say when I go through the door to apprehend criminals? Oh, I’m so sorry your mother didn’t love you, and I’m sure you didn’t mean to beat up that old guy for his TV?”

“This is going nowhere,” Tim said, cradling his beer between his hands. “All I’m trying to say is that we should each do our part to set a positive example for the girls. This is heavy stuff. Their dad getting kicked out and their mom taking off and leaving them with the three of us, two of whom are apes. Put yourself in their place.”

Robbie gritted his teeth alongside Billie. “Fine,” they both said at the same time.

“But what are we going to do about the cat?” Billie asked, his jaw knotted. “Because that pussy hates men.”

“You’re only upset because your wiles don’t work on Miss Purrfect.” Tim’s lips twitched, and then they were all laughing.

Billie was the one who sobered first, possibly because Robbie had just toed his shoes off. “All right, do we talk about it now? What Tara’s got herself into? And Robbie, for the love of God, put your shoes back on. Your feet are rank.”

Robbie ignored him. Setting his beer on the glass table, he leaned back, closing his eyes. “Getting real is probably a good idea. I wish we could know for sure Pop made it to Ireland.”

“No reason to think he wouldn’t,” Tim said with his usual gravity. “It scared me something bad when you said you thought he needed to get out of town because of the Kellys.”

The earlier tightness in his diaphragm returned with a vengeance. “Pop is getting up in years. I was worried the Kellys might go by his house and maybe rough him up, ask him about Tara, me, or the girls. Everyone knows we’re her main family.” He’d go to his grave before admitting it, but he’d also worried about his little brother’s safety. Tim wasn’t a fighter, which was another reason he’d had him come along.

“Jesus, Tara’s in a mess.” Billie’s feet landed on the coffee table. “I told her on her wedding day Scotty was no good.”

“And she retaliated by not talking to you for six months.” Robbie pressed his hands to his face, remembering having to intercede at Christmas and lock them in a room together to work out their issues, something their mother had resorted to when they were growing up.

“She’s been so stubborn and independent, ever since we started kindergarten together.” Billie’s eyes narrowed, and for the first time Robbie could see the pinch of worry on his brow. “That’s what I keep telling myself when I start going crazy about her being all alone out there. Any idea where she went?”

“No, and we don’t want to.” Robbie sighed. “Look, all I want to do is find her and wrap her up in my protection.”

“Our protection,” Billie said, flexing his massive guns.

“Right. But she was smart to pay attention to all my stupid criminal videos and what I always say about how people get tracked down.”

“Who knew those gems would save the day?” Billie held up his hands. “Yay!”

“Oh, stop poking at Robbie,” Tim broke in, setting his beer on his knee. “He’s as upset as the rest of us, but Tara does know how to handle herself. I mean, look at the way she set things up. She even got you a burner phone, Robbie, and I imagine she got one for herself. That’s smart.”

“Right, but we’re men. We’re used to kicking bad guy ass when needed. Me at my car shop. Danny at the bar. And Robbie at the precinct. Tara shouldn’t have to do that. Especially alone.”

Billie’s omission of Tim was like a stink bomb, so Robbie shot him a look before saying, “If Tara thought she had to separate herself from the girls to keep them safe, then we’ve got to respect her decision and support it.” Even if he hated sitting in this saccharine beach rental until “something gave,” as Tara called it.

“So we support her like we did when she married Scotty,” Billie added. “That worthless sack of—”

“Leaving Reagan and Cassidy for two weeks—with us—is one hell of a gamble.” Tim’s heavy sigh carried across the low lamplight in the room. “It’s going to eat her up, being away from her babies.”

“Then we do everything we can to treat them like princesses and give them the time of their lives.” Billie’s feet landed on the floor then, like he’d come to a big decision. “Dammit, I know I’ve been an ass, but taking care of these kids is nothing in comparison to what Tara is going through.”

“On that we agree.” Robbie sat up. “All right. So we’re here in the Outer Banks for two weeks or until the case breaks and we can all go home.”

“That fancy computer from Internal Affairs is our only window to the outside world,” Tim said wistfully.

“Yes, and I plan on checking it every morning. I’m not even risking using the burner because—”

“Everything can be tapped,” Billie finished for him. “I watch your stupid criminal videos too. Plus, some of the guys who work for me at the shop are ex-cons. A few of them got caught making stupid mistakes.”

“We won’t make any.” He glanced at both of his brothers. “Tara deserves some credit. She picked the perfect place. It’s the end of tourist season, so there are fewer people around us. We’re just three brothers—”

“Correction,” Billie pointed out. “A divorced dad with his two brothers along to help with his girls he has shared custody of. We need to get our story straight and stick to it.”

“Oh, for the love of…” Robbie tipped his head back and regarded the ceiling. “I’m the cop in the family, remember?”

“But we do need a cover story,” Billie pressed.

He gave up. “Yes. As close to the truth as we can get. Because God, I hate lying.”

“No legacy is so rich as honesty…”

Robbie glanced at Billie before narrowing his eyes at Tim. “Have you finally lost it? What gibberish did you just spout off?”

“It’s Shakespeare,” their baby brother stated with a haughty brow lift. “His wisdom relates to all kinds of things.”

Billie gave a snort. “Like in that old Gwyneth Paltrow movie Robbie used to watch, where she’s practically naked—”

“Look, I was a horny teenager whose mother unearthed every dirty magazine I smuggled into my room.” He narrowed his gaze at their troubadour. “But that doesn’t explain why Timmy here is quoting some dead guy. Explain.”

Tim’s smile widened in his angular face. “I seem to have struck a chord. Also, really gross about the Gwyneth Paltrow thing. She’s a wicked successful businesswoman.”

“And Kate Winslet’s an Oscar winner,” Billie broke in. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy that scene in Titanic when some chick forces me to watch it.”

“You’re both disgusting.” Tim shook himself, fighting a smile. “If you must know—”

“We really must,” Billie said with a laugh.

“I’m a new fan of the bard. One of the women in our retirement home is a former English teacher, and she’s gone blind from diabetes. I read to her, and we discovered her roommate used to do off-Broadway Shakespeare shows. Her roommate and I started acting out the lines for her, and then the rest of our retirees thought it would be fun to do some productions. It’s a great way to keep their memories active—better than crossword puzzles even.”

“Or sudoku.” Billie laughed. “I told Pop he needed to start doing it when he called me Danny the other day.”

“He probably couldn’t distinguish between you and Danny because you’re both jackasses,” Tim shot back. “Oh, and one more thing. The woman I’m seeing really loves Shakespeare’s sonnets.”

Was baby bro gloating? Robbie couldn’t tell, so he elbowed Billie to signal that it wasn’t time to rag on him about it. “Did we know you were seeing someone?”

Tim took a swig from his bottle. “Nope. It’s going well, so why would I screw it up by having her meet my idiot brothers? You put Kathleen’s husband in the police interrogation room.”

Robbie winced. “That was before she and Declan got married. I had to see what kind of man he was, didn’t I? Plus, they’d had a huge fight.”

“And the end justifies the means.” Billie slapped him on the back. “Isn’t that from Shakespeare, Timmy?”

“Not that I know of.” He glared at him, likely because of his hated nickname, Timmy. “All’s well that ends well seems more apt here.”

“Terrific.” Billie slapped Robbie’s back again. “Glad we got that settled. Back to our cover story. We’ll keep things light because that’s in the kids’ best interest.”

“That’s all that’s important now,” Tim said, taking a sip of his beer. “We need a united front of sensitivity and positivity.”

“Oh, Jesus, here we go again,” Billie complained.

“Stop saying Jesus,” Tim cautioned. “Didn’t you hear me about not cussing?”

“That’s a cuss word?” Billie’s chin jutted out. “He’s a historical figure and the son—”

“You use it like a swear word, Billie.” Judging by Tim’s grin, he was clearly enjoying this. “Use something like holy cow or Jumpin’ Jehoshaphat!”

“And what do you suggest, Shakespeare, for fuck and fucking?” Billie asked with an edge in his voice.

Robbie watched Billie pick up another shell as if weighing the merits of throwing it across the room despite their agreement not to roughhouse. He was ready to catch his brother’s arm mid-throw if necessary.

Tim’s eyes dipped to Billie’s hand before he pursed his lips. “Fudge. Freaking. Frigging. Fecking—”

“We’ll do our best to use alternate words, Tim.” Robbie could see the smoke starting to come out of Billie’s bald head, so he figured it was best to intervene. “On another note, I really am grateful you both came. I thought about taking off with the girls alone, but I figured it would be better to have more backup. Mickey offered to come along too, but I told him I needed him in Boston, working discreetly with IA to find those dirty cops. If for any crazy reason the Kellys find us, which I don’t expect they will, given all our precautions, then I wanted to be with someone who could take the girls and run.”

Billie extended his bottle in Tim’s direction. “That’s you, Shakespeare.”

“Great, I have a new nickname,” Tim said sarcastically. “How nice for me.”

Robbie put his hand on Billie’s arm before he could volley back. “We should get a few baseball bats, though. Couple easy window and door security devices. Just in case.”

“You kept your gun, right?” Billie asked, shoving his hand off.

“Yeah, I told Roland I wanted to keep it with me even though I handed over my phone.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “God…I’ve never gone to IA before.”

But sitting in that garage, he’d known that was his best play. He couldn’t very well take the dirty cash with him. So he’d turned it in to Internal Affairs along with Tara’s letter, which both proclaimed her innocence and suggested there was someone dirty in the department. He’d brought his partner in for backup and as a witness, knowing he could trust Mickey Evans with his life as well as his reputation.

When questioned, Mickey would echo what Robbie had told his supervisor on the call he’d made from the burner phone while in the toy store—that he needed to take a sudden vacation to take care of a family matter. They could speculate to high heaven what that family matter was, but they wouldn’t hear it from any of the O’Connors.

The good thing about going to IA was that they didn’t have to share details with the rest of the department. This way they could start looking into who was on the Kellys’ payroll without alerting the guilty parties. The Kellys would likely guess he was off helping Tara and the girls, but they might not know they’d gone separate ways. He hoped they would think twice about pursuing a cop and would instead use their resources to find Scotty and his new girlfriend, seeing as he was their point of contact.

“You were smart to ask Mickey to come along earlier.” Billie pulled off his boots and tossed them to the side with a thunk. “Better to have a witness when you’re turning in dirty money.”

“That was the plan,” he said, grimacing. “It made me feel sick, knowing Tara’s going to have to be cleared of this.”

Billie’s face turned downright ferocious. “When I think about what Scotty’s done—”

“We all have our thoughts on that,” Tim said quietly, “but that’s another thing you don’t want to say in case the girls overhear you. They don’t have the maturity to see things as they are.”

“Tara gave them a good story,” Robbie told them. “Enough believable details with a lot of girl power stuff. But Tim’s right. We need to keep our thoughts to ourselves.”

“So the plan is to lay low until something breaks and give the girls a good time.” Billie slapped his knees.

“Billie, for the love of Pete,” Tim moaned.

“Robbie, you are so going to owe me for all the hearts I’m breaking while I’m gone.” He pushed off the couch. “Hey, maybe I’ll get lucky down here. There have to be some single women looking to have a good time, right?”

“I’ll make a list of fun things we can do with the kids in the area,” Tim volunteered. “And I’m not sure this is your usual brotherly beer, boats, and babes kind of vacation.”

“No, it’s not.” Robbie was going to make another list. They had to beef up their physical security. And they needed a boat. There were limited ways to leave the Outer Banks. If something happened—and he hoped to God it didn’t—they needed to be ready to take an alternate route out.

“Why are you guys still awake?”

He swung his head to the right. Reagan stood in the clothes she’d fallen asleep in, her new Barbie in her hand. Her second bow of the day lay like a flapjack against her right ear, and she had a pillow crease on her cute little face.

“We’re night owls,” Billie said, standing up. “Hoot hoot. Come on, let’s tuck you back into bed.”

“Can Robbie do it?” she asked softly.

He pushed Billie out of his way as he stood up, surprised. She wanted him? “Ah, sure thing.”

“You want to change into your pajamas first, Miss Pixie?” Tim asked. Thank God, because it hadn’t even occurred to Robbie.

“Yes, please, and brush my hair.” She pulled the bow out and winced. “The tangles are going to be terrible.”

Billie slapped him on the back. “Robbie’s specialty. Untangling things. Shakespeare, let’s head up too.”

“I’ll grab my bag and Robbie’s,” Tim said as Robbie shuffled forward in his socks. “We’ll pick the rooms. Any dealbreakers?”

“A hole in the roof?” Billie bandied back.

Robbie ignored their antics and tried to smile at Reagan. She looked terribly small and tired.

“With this luxury four-bedroom, you’re covered,” Tim replied, heading to the front door where they’d dumped the bags. And the cat, who had disappeared the moment they’d arrived in the house, something he hoped would continue, especially since Tim thought the cat blamed him for its current predicament.

Reagan held out her little hand. Robbie awkwardly took it. Should he pick her up? He’d done that earlier, but only because she’d been completely out. Heading up the stairs together, he noticed they hadn’t taken her sandals off either.

When they reached the room she was sharing with her sister, he noted that Cassidy was still sleeping soundly in the pack and play that came with the house. Reagan sat on her twin bed, and he knelt on the floor to unbuckle her shoes.

God, her feet were tiny and decorated in sparkly nail polish. He hadn’t registered that before, but it made sense, what with Tara being a nail person. God knew she’d tried to do the O’Connor brothers’ nails from time to time, swearing a manicure would change their life. They’d always bandied back that they’d have to give up their man cards if they accepted.

He suddenly wanted to hang his head. Jesus, Tara, please be safe.

“I miss my mom,” Reagan whispered. “I woke up and I didn’t know where I was. Then I heard you guys talking.”

“And you knew we were with you and not her.” He set her sandals down beside the bed. “I know it’s hard to miss your mom. My mom—ah…”

She was suddenly listening intently and he swallowed thickly. She probably already knew his mom had died, but he didn’t want to remind her of it right now.

“My mom went away on a trip when I was a lot older than you—and it was really hard for me too. But Kathleen, my sister, whom you’ve met—”

“Yeah, she lives in Ireland now. Mom has shown me some photos. We went to her wedding when she came back to Boston.”

Right. He rubbed the back of his neck again to wake himself up. “Anyway, she was five, and she missed my mother so much. That’s normal when you love someone. But this is only going to be for a little while, and me and my brothers are going to make sure you and Cassidy have a lot of fun. Is there anything you’d like to do on vacation?”

She held up her doll, eerily perfect in the dim light through the cracked door of the bathroom. Tim had left that on, because there were no night-lights. “I want to build a sandcastle for my new Barbie.”

A sandcastle. Huh. Had he ever done that as a kid? “We’ll do it tomorrow. The best one possible. Now, do you want to get your pajamas?”

She nodded and headed over to her suitcase. Cassidy rolled over when the zipper sounded, and he froze like someone had just dropped a water bottle on a stakeout. God, is this what all parents went through? He breathed a sigh of relief when the little girl didn’t stir again.

Dragging a long pink nightgown across the floor, Reagan returned and held it out. Pointing to the cartoon woman on the dress, she said, “My favorite Disney princess is Belle.”

What was the appropriate response to that? “She looks…sturdy.”

Reagan saved him from more awkward conversation by taking off her dress. Her complete trust pulverized him, and he remembered Kathleen being like this, all sweet, innocent, and little. She used to run around the house in her underwear, laughing as they tried to catch her and wrap her up in a nearby blanket or crocheted throw pulled off the couch. Good memories, he realized.

Reagan held up her arms, and then he realized he was supposed to put the nightgown on over her. He did so gently, and then she was throwing her arms around his neck. All of her fear and agony was in that hug, and he felt his throat getting thick with emotion in response. He remembered Kathleen had liked having her hair smoothed when she was missing their mom, so he lifted his hand and began an easy rhythm. When Reagan finally moved a little, he loosed her and they stood there looking at each other.

“Mom said you would take care of me and Cassidy like a fairy-tale prince.” Then she smiled. “But you’re not the Beast. I’ll have to think about who you are. I’m going to brush my hair later so I won’t wake Cassidy. But it’s going to be awful.”

Awful didn’t sound good, so he was glad for the reprieve. He kissed the top of her head and helped her back into bed. She grabbed her Barbie and arranged the ever-smiling plastic doll against her chest.

“Thanks for my Barbie. I still don’t know what her name is.”

He tucked the flower covered sheet up over her. “You’ll figure it out. Good night, Reagan.”

“Good night, Robbie.”

He gave a tired smile before turning to leave. But then he noticed that Tim had practically swaddled Cassidy in the blanket he’d thrown over her. He’d have to go through Tara’s list of instructions with his brothers point by point, because this would not do.

He lifted the blanket until her tiny feet were peeking out, and for a moment, she smiled in her sleep, drool sliding down her sweet, round face. Something shifted in his chest. He walked out of the room feeling better equipped than he had all day.

With Tara’s instructions, they’d have this parenting thing down tomorrow, Friday at the latest.