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I laughed. “Works for me.”
We tapped the edge of our mugs and sipped. The milk hit just right, but I was all about the cookies. I broke off a piece of one, plunging it into the milk for a hot second before popping it into my mouth.
It was perfect—rich and chewy and chocolaty. It took all the restraint I had not to wolf both cookies down and go in for another pair.
“Damn, that’s good,” I said.
She smiled. “That’s a heck of a compliment from as big of eaters as you guys are.” She dunked her cookie and took a bite, chewing it thoughtfully. “Can I ask you something?”
“I suppose. What’s on your mind, Princess?”
“That’s just it…I want to know what was onyourmind.”
“Huh?”
“When I came down here. You seemed like you were in the middle of thinking about something pretty deep. I know it’s none of my business, but I’m curious.”
I formed my mouth into a hard line, trying to figure out if2 I wanted to share it.
I decided in favor of it. Made some amount of sense that Vic should know a little more about the men who were looking after her. It’d make the whole thing go a lot smoother.
“You might laugh,” I said. “But I was thinking about me ma.”
She smiled slightly, in a warm sort of way.
“You were thinking about your mom? What about her?”
I scratched my beard, trying to figure out where to begin.
“You see, me ma’s all I’ve got in the world—aside from these roughneck arseholes. I lost my da long ago.”
“I’m so sorry.” Without a moment’s hesitation, she reached over and placed her hand on mine. Her touch felt damn good.
“Don’t be sorry. The man was a piece of shite, a no-good drunk. He left before I ever met him, the exact moment Ma found out she was pregnant with me, to be precise. He fled Aberdeen with his tail between his legs.” I snorted, shaking my head. “The man was in the Scottish Special Forces for years but didn’t have the stones to stick around and do what needed to be done when it came to being a da. He’s long gone now—died in some drunk-driving accident over in Ireland. I didn’t shed a tear when I heard; just was happy to know that he only took himself out and not someone else along with him.”
Her hand stayed on mine. Somehow, that made it a wee bit easier to talk about.
“Anyway, Ma’s another story. When it dawned on her that she was going to be the sole person responsible for her little boy, she didn’t waste a second before getting right to it. She picked up all the work she could around town, doing odd jobs and such until a new pub opened, then she secured a bartending job. That’s where her life was until I was old enough to ship out to the service. She still busts her arse, saving her money should I ever need her support again one day.” I raised a finger. “But that’s never going to happen. I made a vow to myself to have that woman retired by the time I turned thirty-five. And that’s what I’m aiming to do.”
I felt strange after I told Vic about that. Never once had I ever been so open about the subject of Ma in that way. But there was something about Vic, something about the way she looked at me as I spoke, concern and interest in her eyes, that made it easier to open up.
“Anyway, that’s what was on my mind. I was thinking about how this lockdown of ours is keeping me from checking in with her. Not like she demands I do it, of course. But she knows what kind of work I’m in, and how dangerous it can be. I figure the least I can do is let her know every few days that I’m safe and sound.”
“I can tell you care about her deeply,” she said with a soft smile. “It’s very admirable.”
I laughed. “Just doing what I can for the woman who raised me. What about you, Princess? You close with your ma?”
I realized right away what a dumb question it was to have asked. Her mother wasn’t in the picture, and she’d given no indication that the subject was a happy one for her to talk about.
“Sorry, Princess,” I said, catching myself. “Not my business to ask.”
She smiled, not seeming bothered in the slightest.
“It’s alright. You’ve told me about your mother, it’s only fair I tell you about mine. It’s the opposite situation, really; I lost my mom at a young age, when I was about five. It was just at the age where you start to form some me
mories, but they’re all fleeting and dreamlike. She was beautiful, with my blonde hair and blue eyes. She loved my brother and me deeply. She passed of breast cancer.” She shook her head, as if in disbelief. “Funny how we are who we are, having access to the best medical care money can buy. All the same, when death comes, it comes.”
Now it was my turn to take her hand. I squeezed it, placing my other hand on top of it.
