“I don’t want to celebrate.” He goes to gulp the coffee but swears, presumably because it’s still too hot. “I hope he’s happy. Wherever he is and whatever he’s doing.” He stares at his coffee. “I think I need something stronger.”
“Scotch?”
Rory gapes at me. “Please.”
I go and pour scotch into two tumblers. I give one to Rory and sit again.
I raise my tumbler. “To Callan’s happiness, wherever he is.”
Rory smiles sadly as he clicks his tumbler against mine. “To Callan.”
“And to you,” I add. “Happy birthday.”
“It’s your birthday?”
We both look to the doorway.
Quinn is standing there, rubbing his eyes. “Happy birthday.”
I hold my hand out to him, and he comes and sits on my lap, with his head resting on my shoulder.
“Am I awake?”
“Barely, by the looks of you.” I stroke his back.
“What are we doing for Rory’s birthday?”
“Nothing,” Rory says sharply.
“It’s a secret,” I say.
“Oh.” Quinn nuzzles against me. “Okay. I’ll pretend I dreamt this whole conversation.”
“You should take him back to bed.” Rory lifts his tumbler. “Thanks for the scotch.” He finishes the amber liquid in one gulp. “And the chat.”
“Anytime.”
Rory smiles and slips away.
“Sorry,” Quinn mumbles.
“What for?”
“I interrupted at the wrong moment. I woke up and heard voices.”
“I’m sorry we woke you.”
He shakes his head. “You didn’t. You know me. I’m up and down like a yo-yo at night.”
“I know.”
“Is Rory okay?”
“I think so.”
“I’m glad he had you to talk to.”
I hug Quinn tight. “Me too.”
