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A small, orange tabby cat looked up at her and meowed.
Irish looked over. “Snap your fingers at him if he’s bothering you. The cat’s on a hair trigger.”
“He’s not a bother.” She trailed her fingers along the back of the animal’s head and got a prrrrow in response. “What’s his name?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. Cat.”
“Original.”
“I picked him up as a stray when I lived in Chicago.” Irish picked up the mugs and joined her at the table. “Never got around to naming him. He’s never seemed to mind.”
“You don’t strike me as a cat person.”
“I’m not. But sometimes life sends things our way for a reason.”
She mock gasped. “Did you get that off a fortune cookie?”
He smiled. “Funny.” He paused and wrapped his hands around his own mug. His expression went serious. “What’s up, Blondie?”
A hundred things. A thousand. But now that she was sitting here with a—with a what? A friend? It felt like such a foreign concept. But now that she was sitting here with an audience, she couldn’t find the words. “Nothing.”
“I don’t think you’d be here for nothing.” He paused and turned his mug in circles. Waiting.
Hannah stared into her coffee, inhaling the familiar scent.
She had no idea what she was doing here.
After a moment, she pushed the mug away. “I’m sorry, Irish. I didn’t mean to bother you.”
He put a hand over hers before she could stand up. “Hannah. Stop. You’re not a bother.”
She stared at his hand where it rested over hers. He had strong hands, warm yet rough from work. It didn’t feel like he was hitting on her. It felt . . . supportive.
Her eyes lifted to meet his. “It’s been a long day.”
“Tell me about it.”
So she did. All of it. Everything her father had said, even the bits about her mother leaving. Everything Michael had said, including the parts that didn’t make sense. Irish was a good listener, and he kept quiet while she talked. He stared at his coffee as if he was taking it all in.
By the time she finished, the cat was in his lap, and her coffee had gone cold.
“Wow,” he said. “It has been a long day.”
“I still can’t believe I woke up in the hospital with Michael this morning. That feels like it happened weeks ago.”
Irish didn’t say anything, but he was studying her.
“What?” she said. “If you have any thoughts, feel free to share them, because I’m not sure what to think anymore.”
He winced. “I don’t want to throw my hat in the ring with the rest of the men trying to control you, but it sounds like both your father and this Michael guy agree on one thing, and maybe you shouldn’t ignore it.”
“You mean staying away from him?”
Irish raised his eyebrows and nodded.
“Don’t worry,” she said, scowling. “I’m pretty sure we’re going to be avoiding each other regardless.”
Irish tapped his fingers on the table and didn’t say anything.
