Updated Apr 15, 2026 • ~10 min read
Chapter 23: The O’sullivans
Keiko
Keiko discovers in November that meeting Declan’s entire extended Irish family at his sister’s wedding is simultaneously more overwhelming and more wonderful than she anticipated, and she’s standing in the receiving line trying to remember which sibling is which while Declan’s mother grips her hands with the kind of enthusiasm that suggests she’s already planning their wedding.
“You’re even more beautiful than Declan described,” Margaret O’Sullivan says, pulling Keiko into a hug that’s warm and slightly crushing. “And he’s been describing you for months. ‘Mam, she’s brilliant.’ ‘Mam, she’s fierce.’ ‘Mam, I think I’m going to marry her.’ Though he probably didn’t mean for me to hear that last part.”
“Mam,” Declan says with obvious embarrassment, and Keiko files away the marriage comment for later examination. “You promised you’d be cool. You’re not being cool.”
“I’m being perfectly cool,” Margaret argues, still holding Keiko’s hands. “I’m simply welcoming your girlfriend to our family with appropriate enthusiasm. Now, Keiko dear, tell me everything. How did you two really meet? Declan’s been suspiciously vague.”
“Dating app,” Keiko admits, because Declan warned her his mother would extract the truth eventually and lying would only make it worse. “We matched anonymously, talked for weeks without meeting, and then discovered we were professional rivals. It was… complicated.”
“Complicated is good,” Margaret says approvingly. “Easy is boring. My Declan needs someone who challenges him. Someone brilliant enough to keep up with him and fierce enough to call him on his nonsense. I can already tell you’re perfect.”
“You’ve known me for three minutes,” Keiko protests, but she’s smiling.
“Three minutes is all I need,” Margaret says with the confidence of a woman who’s raised six children and apparently developed psychic abilities in the process. “Now come, let me introduce you to the rest of the family before they descend like locusts. Fair warning: they’re going to embarrass Declan with childhood stories. It’s tradition when he brings home girlfriends. Though you’re the first in five years, so expect extra enthusiasm.”
The next hour is a blur of names and faces—Declan’s five siblings (Siobhan the bride, Finnian, Rory, Maeve, and Colm), their various partners and children, assorted aunts and uncles and cousins, all of whom seem determined to simultaneously welcome Keiko and mortify Declan with stories from his childhood.
“He ate dirt when he was four,” Rory announces to the table during dinner, to Declan’s visible horror. “Just straight-up ate a handful of dirt from the garden because Finn dared him to.”
“I was FOUR,” Declan protests. “Can we please focus on literally anything else?”
“He cried during The Lion King,” Maeve adds cheerfully. “Every single time. We must have watched it a hundred times and he cried at Mufasa’s death scene every single time without fail.”
“The Lion King is TRAGIC,” Declan argues. “That’s a reasonable emotional response to parental loss.”
“He wrote love letters to his sixth-grade teacher,” Colm contributes. “Very serious letters about how he was going to marry her when he grew up.”
“Mrs. Patterson was very understanding about it,” Declan mutters, and Keiko is laughing so hard she can barely breathe.
“I like your family,” she tells him when they finally get a moment alone during the reception. “They’re chaotic and overwhelming and determined to embarrass you, but I like them.”
“They like you too,” Declan says, pulling her onto the dance floor. “I can tell because they’re being nice to you while destroying me. That’s how they show approval—torture the family member, welcome the partner.”
“Your mother thinks we’re getting married,” Keiko says casually, watching his face for a reaction.
“My mother thinks everyone’s getting married,” Declan deflects. “She’s Irish and Catholic and deeply invested in grandchildren. Don’t let her pressure you into anything.”
“She said you told her you were going to marry me,” Keiko presses. “Did you mean it?”
Declan is quiet for a moment, leading her through the waltz while apparently gathering his thoughts. “I meant it,” he finally admits. “Maybe not tomorrow or next month, but eventually, yeah. I want to marry you, Keiko. I want you to be my family officially instead of just the person I’m building a life with. But I also don’t want to pressure you or make you feel like there’s a timeline.”
“What if I want the timeline?” Keiko asks quietly. “What if I’m thinking about it too?”
“Are you?” Declan’s eyes search hers.
“Yeah,” Keiko admits. “Watching you with your family today, seeing how you interact with your nieces and nephews, hearing your siblings tease you with obvious affection—I want this. I want to be part of your family officially. I want you to be part of mine. I want the whole messy complicated beautiful thing.”
“Marriage?” Declan clarifies, like he needs to hear her say it explicitly.
“Eventually,” Keiko confirms. “Like you said, not tomorrow. But in the future. When it feels right. I want to marry you, Declan O’Sullivan. I want the wedding and the family dinners and the combined last names or hyphenated last names or whatever we decide. I want all of it.”
Declan stops dancing completely, right there in the middle of the reception floor, and kisses her with enough feeling that someone’s aunt wolf-whistles and several cousins cheer.
“Good to know,” he says when they finally break apart, both grinning like idiots. “Very good to know.”
Later in the evening, after the formal dancing is done and people are mingling at tables with drinks, Siobhan—Declan’s sister, the bride—pulls Keiko aside with a knowing smile.
“He’s been different since he met you,” she observes, watching Declan across the room where he’s being cornered by enthusiastic toddlers. “Happier. More grounded. Less obsessed with work to the exclusion of everything else.”
“He’s helped me balance things too,” Keiko admits. “I was all work before him. No life outside the office. He reminds me that there’s more to existence than quarterly earnings and market share.”
“Good,” Siobhan says. “Because Declan’s brilliant at his job but he was using it as a shield. A way to avoid vulnerability and real connection. You got past that shield. That’s not easy. Our baby brother has walls for days.”
“So do I,” Keiko says honestly. “We’re both disasters at vulnerability. But somehow we’re disasters together, and that makes it work.”
“Perfect combination,” Siobhan agrees. “Competitive disasters who are madly in love. Very romantic in a chaotic sort of way. When’s your wedding? Because fair warning, Mam’s already planning it in her head.”
“We haven’t even talked about actual timelines,” Keiko protests. “We just barely admitted we’re thinking about marriage eventually.”
“Eventually becomes soon with Irish mothers involved,” Siobhan warns. “She’ll have the venue booked and the guest list drafted before you leave tonight. Just… be prepared for that level of enthusiasm.”
Sure enough, when Margaret corners Keiko near the bar an hour later, the first question is about Keiko’s thoughts on church weddings versus non-denominational ceremonies.
“We’re not engaged,” Keiko feels compelled to point out. “We’ve only been together three months. Official engagement is probably at least a year away.”
“But you are thinking about it,” Margaret says with satisfaction. “I can tell. You have that look. Like you’ve found your person and you know it.”
“I have found my person,” Keiko admits, watching Declan attempt to escape his nieces who are using him as a jungle gym. “He’s right over there looking adorably overwhelmed by small children.”
“He’ll be a good father someday,” Margaret says wistfully. “Patient and playful. He was wonderful with his younger siblings when they were small. Is that something you want? Children?”
“Maybe,” Keiko says honestly. “I never thought I did. Career always seemed more important. But watching Declan with kids… I can see it. Not now, but eventually. Another someday thing to add to the list.”
“You have a list of somedays,” Margaret observes with approval. “That’s healthy. Too many people rush into forever without planning it properly. But you’re both being thoughtful. That speaks well of your chances.”
They talk for another twenty minutes—about Keiko’s career, her family, her thoughts on work-life balance, her relationship with Declan—and by the end of it Keiko feels simultaneously interrogated and welcomed, which she suspects is exactly Margaret’s approach to evaluating potential daughters-in-law.
The wedding winds down around midnight, and Declan and Keiko escape to their hotel room exhausted and happy and slightly drunk on champagne and family affection.
“Your family is a lot,” Keiko says, collapsing onto the bed still in her formal dress. “But in the best way. They’re warm and loud and they clearly love you so much.”
“They love you too,” Declan says, loosening his tie. “I could tell. The childhood stories, the welcoming you into private jokes, the fact that my mother cornered you for an interrogation—that all means they’ve accepted you. You’re officially part of the family now whether we’re married or not.”
“Your mother asked about children,” Keiko admits. “And church weddings. And whether I had opinions about Irish versus Japanese wedding traditions. She’s very… invested.”
“She’s thrilled I’m dating someone,” Declan explains, sitting beside her. “Like I said, first girlfriend in five years. First one she’s met in even longer. And you’re brilliant and successful and you clearly make me happy. She’s probably planning our wedding as we speak.”
“Would that be so terrible?” Keiko asks, turning to look at him. “Planning a wedding? Getting married? Making this official official?”
“Not terrible at all,” Declan says, and his voice has gone soft. “I meant what I said earlier. I want to marry you. I want you to be my family legally and officially and in every way that matters. I just don’t want to rush it if you’re not ready.”
“I’m not ready yet,” Keiko admits. “But I’m getting there. Every day with you I get closer to ready. So maybe in a year, when we’ve been together longer and navigated more complications and proven to ourselves that this is sustainable long-term—maybe then we talk about actual engagement timelines instead of vague somedays.”
“One year,” Declan repeats, like he’s committing it to memory. “I can do one year. Though fair warning: I’m going to be thinking about proposals and rings and how to ask in a way that’s worthy of you.”
“Worthy of me?” Keiko asks, amused.
“You’re brilliant and fierce and you deserve a proposal that reflects that,” Declan explains. “Not some generic restaurant proposal or predictable romantic gesture. Something that’s specifically us. That acknowledges how we met and how we fought and how we chose each other despite every complication.”
“Now you’re making me excited for something that’s at least a year away,” Keiko complains. “That’s cruel.”
“Consider it motivation,” Declan says with a grin. “Something to look forward to. A someday that’s getting closer to today.”
They fall asleep still in their formal clothes, exhausted from family and dancing and conversations about futures that feel closer than either of them expected, and Keiko dreams about white dresses and Irish family weddings and Declan looking at her the way he did tonight—like she’s everything he’s ever wanted wrapped in one complicated package.
Someday soon, she thinks as she drifts off.
Not today.
But someday soon.
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