I walked over to the kitchen counters. The apartment was decent sized, three bedrooms with two baths and an open plan kitchen-living area. I’d bought it to add to the portfolio I was accruing under my interior designer sister, Ava’s guidance. She managed it for me, meaning all I had to was stump up the capital and sign things.
“You’ve probably got more diseases than the rest of us,” I said, clicking on the kettle. “Who was back here last night?”
Shay shrugged. He still hadn’t put his top on, and I’d noticed nail marks on his back.
“She was a friend of one of the nurses at the hospital.”
“And her name was?” Marie shook out another of his shirts, as if she expected another pair of knickers to fall out.
Shay shrugged. “Kellie? I think.”
“For fuck’s sake. Your mother would kill you if she knew this. Or have you in church saying a thousand Hail Mary’s.”
Knowing Shay’s mother, my Aunt Bridie, she’d have him saying double that.
I opted to say nothing, less my mother’s wrath fell on me.
“Why can’t either of you find a nice girl to go out with? Someone independent, who takes no messing, refuses to do your ironing and has a career of their own.” She’d already located the iron.
It was always safest to keep a decent distance when my mum had an iron in her hand. She’d never actually caused anyone any harm, but she had threatened to, brandishing it like a weapon, making whichever one of us was facing her wrath quiver in a corner.
Shay didn’t respond. I suspected he’d heard much the same thing from his mother on many occasions, just like I had.
Mum stretched the material out over the board. “You’re both in your thirties. Both successful with your careers. Neither of you are getting any younger. At some point youwillwant to settle down and all the women you’d be interested in then will already be with men who are far more sensible.” She carried on for another five minutes.
I made a pot of tea, letting it brew for long enough so she couldn’t complain about it being gnat’s piss, then slipped out of the room to get ready for rugby.
Somehow, getting charged at across a wet field was a lot more appealing than listening to my mum go through the list of suitable women she could set me or Shay up with.
Victoryalways tasted sweeter with a pint of IPA, a full stomach and a lack of injuries.
We’d won, no mean feat given the other team had kicked our arses both previous times we’d played them. Callum’s mare had given birth safely, so my third brother was ecstatic, and everyone – including Claire – was in a good mood. Apart from Shay, who was back on shift at the hospital.
Max sat down next to me, Victoria busy talking to Payton and Vanessa, while Claire and Killian were engaged in a very happy conversation near the bar. Killian’s brother, Nick, was also here, with his wife Katie and their three children, and some sort of creche had been arranged which my dad and Jackson were running – and that was perhaps all the entertainment we needed.
My parents had the sense to book out a room in the restaurant where we were, meaning we could be loud, the children didn’t have to be on their best behaviour and no one needed to worry about anyone overhearing anything that Claire said.
“You were on form today.”
The words of praise just dripped from Max’s lips.
I had played well. Two tries and several runs that would put Eli to shame. Eli, Ava’s fiancé, had almost been professional and this season, I was surprised he hadn’t made it. Despite not being far off forty, he was playing out of his skin. But today, I’d played better.
“Thanks.”
“It was good to see that you weren’t distracted by anything.”
I turned to stare at my brother. “I don’t have anything to distract me.”
Max turned away, a smirk starting to curve.
“What are you hinting at?”
He shook his head.
I resisted the urge to tackle him to the ground, because that would’ve meant spilling decent beer.
So I didn’t say anything, which I knew would smoke out whatever it was that he wanted to say.
