“Do you?” Sean asks. “Because if not, you should leave now.”
“Leave?”
“Leave,” Sean underscores with a firm nod. “Go back home and have Fiona make you more black pudding. If you can’t do the job right, Cillian, then don’t do it at all.”
I’m staring at my brother’s dark eyes.
But for a moment—just one brief moment—I feel like I’m staring at my father.
Da has the same quiet intensity. The same dangerous tenacity. He has the kind of gaze that breaks men before he even has to lift a finger.
“I…”
“What?” Sean asks when I fall silent without finishing my thought.
“Nothing,” I mutter, turning back towards the open pavement and breaking his hold on me. “You just reminded me of Da there for a second.”
“Jesus,” Sean mutters. “You coulda just said, ‘Fuck you.’”
It takes me a second to realize he’s making what passes for a joke.
For Sean, it was actually a pretty funny one, too.
I smile.
But I clasp him on the shoulder at the same time. No matter how much he fights it, my older brother does look like Da. And he’s in line to become Da, when the time is right.
I just worry some days that all that pressure is cracking his soul in two.
We both let our hands slide away simultaneously. Turning, we continue our walk towards the darkened cul-de-sac.
“Whatever happened to Orla, by the way?” I ask.
Sean does a double take. “Did you just ask about Orla?” he demands incredulously.
“Yeah, so?”
He glances at me with complete bewilderment. “Orla and I ended things years ago,” he reminds me.
“I know. I’m just saying. Everyone thought you were gonna marry her.”
Sean makes a sound that could be a huff. It could also just be a grunt. And it could mean fucking anything.
“She was that dark-haired girl with the curves—”
“I remember,” he snaps at me.
I hold up my hands. “Mea culpa. Didn’t sound like you did.”
“I was planning on proposing,” Sean admits suddenly.
I raise my eyebrows. “Fuck… really?”
“Yeah.” There’s a moment of silence before he finally bites the bullet and tells me what he’s reluctant to say. “Actually, I did propose.”
“Fuck,” I breathe. “What did she say?”
The moment the words are out of my mouth, I feel like an idiot.