“His father, I know.”
Finn nodded. “So you’ll understand that he’s not in a mental space where he can be messed about.”
“I’m not going to mess him about.” When Cillian snorted again, I rounded on him. “Something wrong with your sinuses? You should get that checked out.”
Finn grabbed his boyfriend by the hand and tugged him out of the room. “Come on. We’ve said our piece. We’re not Cormac’s parents. Or Laurent’s.”
Cillian frowned. “I hadn’t even gotten warmed up.” Despite his protestations, my brother allowed himself to be led away.
I closed the door firmly behind them. A check of my watch revealed that Laurent would arrive for dinner in less than twenty minutes. It had been Cillian’s idea for the four of us to spend time together, his motives at showing the relationship up for the sham he believed it to be—and which it was—clear. Which made me equally determined to make him eat his words. The unknown factor with my plan was Laurent himself. At no point during ourphone conversation when I’d told him what I’d done, had he agreed to it. So tonight was going to be interesting in terms of whether he’d go along with it, or confess everything.
My phone vibrated three times in quick succession, the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach growing worse with each one. Only the thought that it might be Laurent had me snatching it up and checking the screen. It wasn’t Laurent, message after message from Katrina staring back at me instead. Even though I already knew what they were going to say, I scanned them anyway.
Just wanted to say hello to you.
I can still do that, right?
I dreamed about you last night. You did that thing I really like. ;)
I wore the T-shirt you left. It still smells of you.
I really miss you. Why won’t you talk to me?
I’m getting worried about you now. At least let me know you’re okay.
Before I could think better of it, I pressed call, Katrina answering within seconds. “Hey, Boo.”
“Don’t call me that. I didn’t like it when we were together, and I certainly don’t like it now we’re not.”
Katrina’s sigh said I was being unnecessarily picky. “What about when we get back together?”
I counted to ten, my hand gripping my phone so tightly my fingers ached. “We’re not getting back together. I made that clear. I couldn’t have made it any clearer. So stop messaging me.”
“Of course we’ll get back together.”
I leaned my head against the wall, the plaster reassuringly cool against my heated skin. “We won’t, Katrina. Not after what you did.”
“I went round to your place yesterday morning. You weren’t there.”
And that’s why I’m not there.“I went out for an early morning run,” I lied.
“For two hours?”
For fuck’s sake! How long had she stood and watched? “Katrina, you’ve got to stop this. We’ve been over this. I don’t want to see you again.”
“I know what you want.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?”
“You want me to win you back. To put the work in. To show you that I’m truly sorry.”
“I don’t. I really don’t. I want you to leave me alone. To stop calling and messaging me.”
Katrina wasn’t listening, though. “And I don’t mind doing that. For you. You’re worth it, Mac.”
“I’m not.”
She gave a tinkling laugh. “I think that’s for me to decide. Don’t you?”
