“I could have done. You’re right again.”
“So, is this what you’re going to do? You’re just going to agree with everything I say?”
Mac turned his head to give me a grin that stretched from ear to ear. “I am.”
I let loose a string of French expletives vulgar enough that the driver glanced in his rearview mirror. And then, despite everything, I was smiling, too. “You’re impossible.”
Cormac just kept grinning, relaxing back into the seat and still sipping his hot chocolate. We got halfway back to my flat before I yanked it out of his hand and drank the rest.
He sat up indignantly. “Hey! That was mine.”
“I bought it.” I handed the empty paper cup back, leaving it balanced on Mac’s thigh when he refused to take it from me.
“If you wanted it, you should have drunk your own rather than pouring it out like a petulant child. I seriously questioned which one of us was twenty-three at that point.”
I winced at the reminder that I’d brought up his age. “I shouldn’t have tried to use your age as a weapon.”
“No, you shouldn’t have.”
“It’s just…” The words dried up in my mouth.
“I get it,” Mac said, surprisingly gently. “Part of your problem is that you think people don’t get it, and they do. You’re not a villain. And neither is your father. You’re two men with barriers to communication. Alcohol, grief, pride, to name but a few. It doesn’t mean there isn’t a way back for you.”
“It’s too late.”
“Maybe.” Mac spent the rest of the journey staring out of the window, the furrow on his brow saying he was thinking hard. I didn’t ask what he was thinking about.
Chapter Nineteen
Nothing more was said about Mac going home. He waited patiently while I fished my keys out of my pocket and let us both into the flat. Once inside, I scanned the interior.
“What are you thinking about?” Mac asked.
I sighed as I flung my jacket across the back of the sofa rather than hanging it up. “I was thinking how odd it is when events make it feel like a lot more time has passed than actually has.” I checked my watch. My new watch that had been a gift from Mac. “It’s not even two hours since we were last here, but it feels like days. To me, anyway.”
“You’re tired. You need to sleep.”
Grimacing at the thought of even trying to close my eyes and sleep, I threw myself on the sofa. “Did you notice my father wasn’t wearing a watch?”
“They probably took it off him.”
“Maybe. Or he lost another one.” I ran my finger along the leather strap of the Festina. “He’s not having this one.”
Mac took a seat on the opposite end of the sofa. He removed his shoes and then drew his feet up, turning sideways so he could face me, his elbows resting on his knees. “I wouldn’t take offense.”
“I would. He’s not having it,” I repeated.
A smile twitched at the corners of Mac’s mouth. “Okay.” He studied me for a few moments. “What do you want to do?”
“Do?”
“Given your reaction to me suggesting you sleep, I’m assuming that’s not on the cards. Do you want to watch some TV? Do you want to play I spy? Do you want me to sing you a lullaby?”
I laughed at that. “Do you know any?”
“No. But I’d learn one, if that’s what you needed.”
“Don’t be nice to me.”
