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Arlo sighed. “You’re telling me.”

Four and a half months. Just four and a half months.

“Hey. We could call you once the party gets going. Cross-Atlantic toast with the lads!”

“It’ll be, like, noon here, though.”

“Yeah, but it’ll be seven o’clock here. Really, you should have two to catch up.”

“Is Orlaith going to be there?”

If it was anyone else, there might have been some venom to the question, but it sounded like Arlo was just happy at the idea.

“Cian’s shite-hawk friends are going to jail. You think she’s not gonna celebrate that?”

“Yeah, she wished me luck yesterday. She’s a lot sweeter than she lets on.”

“Don’t let her catch you saying that,” Bren said, even though Arlo was one of the few people she’d probably give a pass to.

He leaned back against the counter, the kitchen darkening around him.

“Just four more months, Robolad. Cian’ll hopefully be behind bars by then and you and me will be off on our own for the first time.”

“As long as I get in somewhere.”

Bren waved a hand that Arlo couldn’t see. “You’ll get in everywhere as long as you slipped in a picture, fit lad like you.”

He wasn’t sure if the silence that followed was filled with Arlo’s eyerolls or from making sure there wasn’t a trace of a squeak in his voice when he spoke again, but either option was plenty cute.

“Oh, yeah, because that’s what admission boards are looking for in their students. Hotness.”

“It would be if I was in charge,” Bren replied, taking a bite of one of the finished biscuits.

“That’s not as romantic as you think it is, creep.”

“Whatever gets you back in the country, lad.”

Arlo didn’t reply while Bren finished chewing and the shadow of worry that kept creeping up reappeared.

“You sure that’s what you want? Like, if we both get in everywhere?”

“Uh, you’ve seen your country, right? Honestly, I might go there even if you only get in over here.”

“Gee, thanks, lad,” Bren replied as the shadow fecked off.

“Hey, you’re the one who kept telling me how grand Ireland is.”

“Yeah, because I’m here, like.”

“Where Bren goes, so too goes the grandness?”

“Exactly.”

The music on Arlo’s end got louder before his grunt told Bren that he’d fallen back into his bed.

“Alright, well, is his grandness going to bed soon, or is he going to stay up fondling his biscuits all night?”

Bren snorted as he sandwiched two halves together with some homemade jam Niamh had sent home with him yesterday.