‘I’ll be home late,’ I say, glancing at the bathroom door again. ‘You’re okay with that?’
‘Aye, aye. Stop your fussing, and I’ll see you in the morning. Sorcha,’ she then calls in her no-nonsense tone, ‘come say good night to your daddy.’
‘Good night,’ says my daughter, much more contrite.
‘Night, darlin’. I’ll see you soon.’
I’m staring down at my phone when I sense I’m being watched. When I look up, Paisley stands in the doorway, completely naked now, her hair falling in dark waves around her shoulders.
‘You still have your boots on. And you’re married.’
‘One of those things is true,’ I answer wearily. ‘And one of them used to be true.’
‘So your darling would be... ?’
‘My daughter.’ I move a small way along the bench, patting the cream leather next to me. I don’t know when I’ve seen a lovelier sight as she walks hesitantly towards me. She was gorgeous in the coffee shop. Stunning in her blue dress, decked out for a wedding. Beautiful earlier, semi-naked and ruffled, and under my hands. But right now, unadorned and sort of vulnerable, she looks sublime.
I unlock my phone, opening the photo app, bringing up one of approximately five hundred images of my wee girl.
‘This is Sorcha,’ I say quietly.
‘She looks like you,’ Paisley says softly, which surprises me.
‘Most people say she looks like her mother.’ Shit, why did I say that?
‘Does Sorcha live with her mom?’
‘Nope.’ I feel my mouth twist. ‘Her mother has no part in her life. She lives with me and Agnes,’ I say, flicking to the next image of many, where I’ve caught the steel grey-haired woman with a rare smile. It’s not that she doesn’t smile; she’s just a bit serious, I suppose.And she has no love for cameras.‘This is Agnes.’
‘Sorcha’s granny?’
‘As good as. Sorcha is the reason I said I couldn’t come upstairs wi’ you.’ On the admission, my accent thickens. ‘My life has changed so much since her mother and I split. She is and always will be my world.’
‘Of course. That’s understandable. But you’re saying you don’t date?’ I shake my head. ‘Ever? Not that this is a date or anything,’ she’s quick to add.
I shake my head. ‘The past couple of times, it didn’t go too well. Women don’t seem to get that she’ll always come first.’
‘I’m not suggesting this is a date,’ she says with that gorgeous tinkling laugh of hers. ‘But you don’t... ’
I blow out a breath, rubbing my free hand through my hair. ‘Casual fucks. Is there such a thing?’
‘Well, I’m no expert,’ she begins, tucking her hands between her legs, drawing my gaze to where it shouldn’t be. ‘But I think there are lots of kinds of sex. Lots of kinds of relationships tied to sex. I mean, in my world, some people get paid to screw, then go out for coffee as nothing but colleagues afterwards. We go on location shoots, and the actors have sex, kiss, and do all manner of things to each other, but that might be the only interaction they have.’ Her gaze lifts, and what I see is hope, maybe. Misplaced hope. ‘And then there’s Max, Chastity’s brother. He offers to exorcise me almost daily.’
‘Exorcise?’ I repeat, the word conjuring up images of the movie,The Exorcist.
‘Yep, cleanse me of Robin,’ she replies a little too enthusiastically as she nods. ‘And the thing is, if I were even tempted, I know that’d be it. No strings attached—nothing more than an impersonal exchange of body fluids and then don’t let the door hit you where the Good Lord split you.’
‘The fella sounds like an opportunist.’ It’s the nicest description I can muster. The worst isn’t fit for feminine ears.
‘Quit giving me the side-eye. I’m not sleeping with him,’ she says primly.
‘I’m wondering if you feel like you still need exorcising?’ I ask evenly.
‘What? After what happened in there?’ she asks a little incredulously, pointing at the other room.
‘Aye.’
‘Not hardly,’ she answers with a cute snort. ‘That was a thoroughly... thorough exorcism.’
