Killian held out his clothes. “Here. Put these on, for the love of God. I donotwant to have to dress you.”
Somehow Connor maneuvered into his clothes, losing only one sock in the process. “I found a bar.”
Jani’s nostrils flared. “Believe me, friend, we figured that out already.”
“There’s a girl. She wanted to have revenge sex with me.” More drool.
“Ah, Jesus,” said Bart. “Please tell me you didn’t.”
Connor shook his head. “Elaine’s so pretty.”
“Yeah, we know.” Killian grabbed his arm. “Come on, let’s get you home. Pretty Elaine is worried sick.”
“I was supposed to fix her, but I broke her.”
They hefted him to his feet. At least, he thought it was his feet. He couldn’t quite see them. They held him up and forced him to walk out of the copse, even though his body did everything in its power to propel him back to the ground.
“You weigh a ton,” muttered Bart.
Connor tried to lift his head to the brightening sky. “The sun. It hurts.”
All of a sudden, everything hurt. His head, his heart, his fucking stomach. Possessed by demons, or so it seemed, Connor hurled his body out of his friends’ grip and vomited all over Jani’s boots.
“If you weren’t my friend,” Jani’s two heads said in tandem, “I’d kick your ass.”
* * * *
The day Elaine and her kids left, all her friends gathered to see them off at the dock.
All but Connor.
In fairness to him, he had knocked on her cabin door early that morning, his face white. “I’d like to say goodbye to the munchkins.”
“Of course. Come in.” She’d held the door open for him, wondering at the lunacy of the situation. He had his own key. He could have just walked in, but things had changed.
He’d looked at her briefly during the exchange, and only once, and then wouldn’t meet her gaze. No matter how much she silently pleaded with him, he wouldn’t look at her.
Look at me. Please, look at me. If he did, surely he’d understand all the things she didn’t know how to say.
Instead, he’d taken a deep breath, forced a smile onto his face, and greeted the kids. He’d joined them in the living room, told them he hoped they had lots of fun with their grandparents, and had hugged them tight. Only when Connor hugged her children did Elaine see his mask slip. He’d bitten his quivering lip and had shut his eyes against the tears.
She’d pushed him away to fix herself and had broken him in the process.
When he’d finally let them go, Layla had run over to the kitchen table. She’d drawn him a picture the night before and had been excited to present it to him.
“See, Uncle Connor?” She’d pointed to the little figures on the paper. “There’s you and me and Andy and Mommy. We’re standing in front of the cabin.”
“It’s beautiful, sweetheart.”
“Why are you crying?” She’d touched his cheek.
“Because this is the best picture I’ve ever seen, that’s why.” He wiped his face. “Who’s this up in the clouds?”
“That’s Daddy. I made him an angel.”
Andy had craned his neck to look. “I think he looks like a giraffe.”
Connor had laughed. “It’s perfect. I love it. Can I keep it?”
