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wrong before. I flattened my body back into the carpet wishing to the gods I had brought Thor.
    “Go back to bed, Deirdre,” John said and when I heard the door shut, I figured Deirdre knew better than to argue with him.
    “I’ll ask you again, real slow so we understand each other. What the hell are you doing here?” Chicago accent. Probably a Sox fan. I hated Sox fans. There’s a reason they call that park the Cell. Actually it’s Cellular Field, but double entendre and all that.
    Any light from the moon had scurried away to the corners of the cottage. There was only blackness.
    I found a voice, but it wasn’t mine. It was on loan from a Muppet. “I, I, actually used to live here.”
    “You always break into houses you used to live in?”
    Youdsed . He actually said youdsed . I had a sudden urge to empty my bladder. And to order an Italian sausage sandwich.
    “What I mean is, I live here.” Until my aunt sold me out. Dammit, Fiona. “You rented this place, right? For a week probably? The Geraghtys are my family.”
    My voice sounded more like my own by then and John told me to stay put.
    “Why you sneaking around in the dark?” he asked.
    Good question. I thought fast. “Um, well, I needed something...from my bedroom.” I flung an arm behind me. “And, I, well, I, um, gee—”
    “What are you retarded?”
    Whoa, that was uncalled for! How do these people choose my family to spend their vacation with? “Hey that is an offensive word! People with mental disabilities prefer to be called challenged. I think. Anyway, it’s something like that, but if you must know, no, I’m not. Challenged, that is.”
    “Turn around, sweetheart.”
    I hated to be called sweetheart more than I hated Sox fans. I was still doing the breaststroke in the carpet facing away from him, so I wasn’t quite sure what he meant by ‘turn around’. I considered rolling over like a dog for a moment, but opted instead for an all-fours three point turn.
    “Stand up.”
    I did.
    “Turn on the light.”
    I did. Wish I hadn’t.
    As soon as my eyes adjusted to the light I caught a full on shot of John buck ass naked. The pistol he was sporting was larger than any I had ever seen.
    So was the gun.
    I shut my eyes.
    “Deirdre?” I called.
    John chuckled. Apparently my squeamishness was amusing him.
    Deirdre poked her head out the door as I opened one eye.
    She must have realized there was some kind of mistake. “John, put your pants on!” She opened the door wider.
    We looked at each other for a minute. She had all the curves of a Champagne flute with a shock of jet-black hair. The doily on the coffee table was less revealing than Deirdre’s negligee. I could see some sort of tattoo wrapped around her thigh.
    “You must be on your honeymoon.” I was mortified.
    Deirdre cocked her head and nodded.
    “I’m so sorry. I’ll be out of here in a minute. I was just looking for a book.”
    Ivy said, “Stacy! That’s a secret.”
    Deirdre raised an eyebrow. “Come out from there,” she called.
    Ivy scooted into the doorframe and Deirdre’s face relaxed. She smiled at Ivy, her eyes so blue I could see waves crashing through them. The woman appeared to be in her mid-thirties.
    Deirdre looked at me. “I got a sister too. The things they put you through, huh?” Deirdre said. “C’mon, sit, I’ll make coffee.”
    On my reverse bucket list of the top ten things I never wanted to experience, sharing a honeymoon with the Sopranos and Buffy the Vampire Slayer would rank right up there.
    “No,” I said hurriedly. “We should get going. I cannot tell you how sorry I am to interrupt your honeymoon.” I pushed Ivy towards the back door.
    John came out of the room with his pants buckled and his shirt unbuttoned.
    “Whoa,” Ivy said.
    “Don’t stare.” I tapped her shoulder.
    “Did you see the size of that gun?” she asked.
    I hoped she was talking about the Glock in his holster.
    “You girls need a ride somewhere?” John