“Lots of stuffed suits,” I lied. “Not your scene.”

I could almost hear her pouting. “It still would’ve been nice to be asked. Is there an open bar?”

I ignored her question and instead said, “The next time there’s a party I’ll make sure to ask. Sound good?”

She let out a huff of a breath. “Mm-hmm. So, are you coming over? I tried phoning Tracy and Marianne, but they still aren’t taking my calls.”

God, I really didn’t need to hear about this again. She was currently on the outs with her two best friends, Tracy and Marianne, after getting drunk and telling them everything she thought was wrong with their lives, including that their husbands were lazy and their children were brats. Presently, I was the only person she had to talk to. Eventually they’d forgive her and celebrate with a night on the town, as was their pattern.

“I can’t, Mam. Maybe tomorrow, yeah?”

“But I’m so lonely, Bryan. Please. You’re all I have.”

I let out a long, tired sigh and ran a hand through my hair. Glancing over at Eilish one last time, I saw her studying me curiously. When she realized I’d caught her looking, she quickly turned away.

I didn’t want to leave, but I knew if I didn’t go check in on Mam, she’d probably end up drinking herself into oblivion.

I let out a gruff breath and told her, resigned, “Go easy on the wine. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

She let out a happy little yelp. “Oh, wonderful, Bryan. I can’t wait to see you. You’re the best son a mother could ask for.”

Yeah, yeah . . . maybe to my detriment.

Chapter Three

ECassChoosesPikachu: Adult conversation with JoseyInHeels in 5, 4, 3, 2…

JoseyInHeels: I’ll be 15mins late, sorry!

ECassChoosesPikachu to JoseyInHeels: That’s fine. I’ll order 7 donuts and name them Sleepy, Dopey, Doc, Sneezy, Grumpy, something, something.

*Eilish*

“What did you do?”

Rubbing my forehead, I grimaced, preparing myself for Josey’s reaction. “I went into the bathroom. When I came back out ten minutes later, he was gone.”

Her mouth fell open and she gave me her uneven-eyes stare, where she made one eye slightly larger than the other.

“Don’t give me that look.”

“What look?”

“That look. The one you use instead of saying you’re a fecking eejit.”

“Oh, that look.” She blinked and her eye sizes normalized. “Was I giving you that look?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Lifting both of her hands between us, palms toward me, she said, “Let me . . . let me get this straight. Upon seeing Bryan Leech—rugby god, sex god, belt aficionado—not to mention the father of your child—”

“Shh!” I glanced over my shoulders around the café and its inhabitants. No one was paying attention. But still, in Dublin the name Bryan Leech was recognizable.

“BL seeks you out and you run into the bathroom?” Josey lowered her voice to a harsh whisper and leaned forward, her raven-black hair sweeping over her shoulders. BL was how we’d been referring to Bryan for the last four years. Other than my cousin Sean, Josey was the only one who knew Bryan was Patrick’s father.

I met her dark brown eyes and nodded once. “Yes.”

“Why would you do that?” A hint of pained desperation bled into her voice. “Don’t you realize I’ve been waiting for this moment for the last four years? Don’t you know I have been counting the days? This isn’t how it was supposed to happen.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” I twisted my mouth to the side, trying to hide my smile. I decided I wouldn’t tell her about what happened later, when we’d been officially introduced and shared a joke.

Better to not encourage her delusions.

“You should be. He did his part, noticing you right away, pursuing you through the party. But then you were supposed to take him to a quiet corner, confess the truth, and fall into his arms.” As was her habit, she was moving her hands frantically between us, as though motioning to an invisible chart where the actions of the party were pre-destined and I’d failed to follow through. “And then Sean would be your best man, and I would wear that badass tuxedo bridesmaid dress. You know how much I love that dress.”

I gave her a blank stare. “You are completely nuts.”

“So?” Her fingers came to her chest. “This is news?”

“No. This is not news. But if you could be serious for just a moment, I’d appreciate it if we could talk about what happened without you referencing your delusions of grandeur.”

“Fine.” Josey huffed an exaggerated breath and leaned back in her chair. “Go ahead. Talk about it.”

“Thank you. What I wanted to say is—”

“Don’t mind me, I’ll just be over here sobbing about the happily ever after that never happened.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “There is no such thing as a happily ever after.”

“I know.” She reached for her coffee, lifting it but not drinking. “But if anyone deserves to have their wishes and fantasies come true, it’s you.”

Now it was my turn to huff. “Josey, BL is not my fantasy.”

“Lie. Liar. Lies. You used to have posters of him on your bedroom wall at school. You used to make me watch all those matches, know all his rugby stats. You used to—”