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“Existentially or within the house?” was her droll retort.
“Within the house,” I groused.
“It’s a guest suite.”
“A guest what?”
“For guests to stay in.” She studied me. “You’re not looking well, Con. I think you should get some rest.”
“I’m not hungover,” I repeated.
“No, you don’t stink of booze. But you look like you’re coming off a bender all the same. When was the last time you caught some sleep?” she queried, turning to me. Then, her nose crinkled. “When did you last shower?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
And I didn’t.
I just remembered the open space of a field, a shipping container, and a man screaming for his life as he was shoved into the container and then locked inside with packs of MREs and stacks of bottled water.
Then, from out of nowhere, she’d pistol-whipped me and I’d found myself waking up in a jet on a return flight to New York.
Apparently, saying ‘goodbye’ was too much hard work for Temperance goddamn Black.
When I realized Aoife had been saying my name over and over again, I apologized, “Sorry, Aoife. I’m out of it.”
“Conor,” she said, her tone careful. “You can talk to me, you know?”
“I’m talking to you now, aren’t I?”
“About whatever trouble you’re in?”
“I’m not fifteen and dabbling in coke, Aoife,” I groused tiredly, tugging away from her hold and scrubbing both hands over my face.
“That wound on your head needs cleaning,” she stated. “How did you even get that?”
Hitching a shoulder, I mumbled, “I’ll do it later.”
“I’ll do it now or it’ll never get done.”
As she grabbed my arm and dragged me into the bathroom, I asked, “Do you manhandle Finn like this?”
“Only when he’s being a pain.”
“So, all the time then?”
Her lips twitched. “Not all the time. Sometimes, he’s very… good.”
I groaned. “I don’t need to be thinking about you two fucking.”
“Who said I was talking about sex?” she scoffed, surprising me by not being flustered.
“That smile said everything,” I grumbled as she dragged me to the vanity and propped me against it.
A couple of moments later and thoroughly armed with a first-aid kit, she started cleaning me up after tugging me into a slouched position so she could reach me without having to strain.
As she worked, she stayed quiet, but I knew her brain was ticking. Why wouldn’t it be? I was acting out of character. I knew I was.
Maybe that was why I blurted out, “Did you hear about Prince Edward of Midlothian’s death?”
