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She frowned. “Brian?”
“You named your cat Brian?” I chuckled.
“He’s not my cat,” Gibsie replied. “I don’t even like cats.”
I frowned. “Then whose is he?”
“My mam’s,” Gibsie replied. “He’s her pride and joy.” He turned back to Claire and said, “He’s had an episode.”
“Another one?” Scrambling off her bed, she adjusted her pajama shorts and padded toward him. “Where?”
“Uh…” Shrugging sheepishly, Gibsie gestured to the door.
“He’s in my house?” Claire squealed.
“Why is your cat in her house?” Lizzie asked the question on everyone’s mind.
“He wasn’t feeling well,” Gibsie replied. “I took him for a walk.”
“You took your cat for a walk?” Lizzie shook her head. “Boy needs institutionalizing.”
“It’s not that strange,” he huffed defensively. “I live across the street.”
“Did you put a leash on him?”
“Obviously.” Gibsie looked at her like it was the dumbest thing he’d ever heard. “How else was I supposed to walk him over here?”
Lizzie shook her head. “Then I stand by my previous statement.”
“Wow, you’re a barrel of laughs, aren’t ya?” Gibsie shot back sarcastically. “Pierce is a lucky lad.”
Lizzie responded by flipping him off.
“Focus,” Claire snapped, clicking her fingers in Gibsie’s face. “Where is he now?”
“He’s in your bathroom.” Grimacing, he added, “He’s had an accident.”
“What kind of accident?” Claire growled.
He shrugged sheepishly. “The explosive diarrhea kind?”
“Gerard!” Claire screamed, slapping his huge bicep. “I told you not to bring him over here after the last time.”
“I was worried,” he groaned, rubbing his arm. “I’m sorry. But you have to help me.”
“Ask Hughie to help you,” she growled, planting her hands on her hips. “I’m tired of rescuing you.”
“I can’t,” he groaned. “He’s dropping Katie home and picking up the lads before we go out.”
“So why are you still here?” Lizzie quipped as she flicked through a magazine.
“Hey,” I admonished quietly, poking her rib. “Don’t be mean.”
“Ugh!” Claire growled as she stomped out of the room with Gibsie hot on her heels.
“That boy is an idiot,” Lizzie muttered, not looking up from her page. “Our friend is in love with a class-A idiot.”
“He’s not that bad,” I replied and then quickly backpedaled. “Hold on—you think Claire’s in love with Gibsie?”
