That is far more personal than she needs to know about. Goddammit.
I’m a thirty-three-year-old man, and I’m busy. I’ll consider a relationship when I have the time. And I don’t have the time right now for more than a nice meal and a couple of hours in a hotel room every so often with a woman who’s also busy with her own career and doesn’t want any more than that, either.
“You don’t live,” she says. “Not there. Not anywhere. Don’t lie to me.”
I arch a brow and turn my head away, wanting to rage.
But I won’t. Not with her.
I like my life the way it is. I’m good at my job, I have friends, and I don’t want to bring a woman into it. What if I transfer to Berlin or Sydney?
And I like my privacy. I know she means well, but she’s holding on too tightly.
“Fallon?” I look over at her, my voice as gentle as possible. “You’re not my parents.”
I swear she doesn’t move. Not even a flicker in her eyes. But there’s pain there all the same.
I sigh, putting an arm around her, and tug her into my side. She’s so small next to me, like I used to be next to her.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
I don’t think I regret saying it because I think she needed to remember that I have a mom. And I had a dad. She and Madoc don’t have to take on that burden.
I guess I get it, though. They helped me grow up.
“Let me enjoy my time while I’m here,” I tell her. “Let me try some of that Irish whiskey I hear Madoc is so good at making.”
A smile spreads across her face, but she still doesn’t look at me.
I hear a command. “You’re staying through the weekend.”
But it’s not her who says it. I lift my gaze to Madoc strolling up, his jacket hung over one arm as he rolls his sleeves back down.
“I have to be back Sunday.”
He doesn’t say anything, just tosses his wife an unreadable look before meeting my eyes again.
“But you know what I want to do?” I stand up straight. “Before we get plastered later…I wanna drive.”
Then, he smiles. “That’s my boy.” Digging out his keys, he tosses them to me and leans in to kiss his wife. “Wanna come?”
“No.” She turns and watches us walk to his old silver GTO, the car I first learned to drive. “You go. Show him what Fallstown has become.”
I defer to him. “Fallstown?” I ask. “What happened to the Loop?”
He just chuckles, climbing into his passenger seat while I get behind the wheel.
Quinn
“Thank you.” I hand a small bag and coffee to the customer, a woman dressed in straight-legged white pants and a blue pinstriped shirt. “Enjoy your day.”
She leaves with a smile, and I watch her go, admiring her work clothes. I can’t dress like that here, but I could look more professional, I guess.
I dust off the flour on my T-shirt and move away from the counter, removing an empty tray from the case. I hand it to Hailey, the cashier with two perpetually messy buns sitting on top of her head like horns. “Can you take that?” I slide out another, stacking it on top. “And that too. Thanks.”
She backs through the kitchen door, spinning around with the trays in hand. I slide behind Noel, who works the espresso machine, his thick silver rings glinting in the sunlight.
I approach the next customer, and she opens her mouth to speak, but then Mace is there. She butts in. “Emergency.”
