He hesitated. “I’m not really sure. I think it was good enough, and she had three kids to support, and it paid well.”
“But she didn’t have to support them after you were drafted.”
He looked at me. “That’s what I thought.”
I shook my head, caught sight of Maggie, and regained my line of thought. “Wait. Sorry. I meant, what does she do here? You know. When we’re off together or Lauren’s with Paul or Anna’s hanging out with Mary and whoever and trying to get Finn’s attention?”
“What?”
I rolled my eyes. “I just can’t help that you’re clueless.”
“Lauren and Paul?”
“Totally not a thing. Forget I said anything.”
He looked around wildly, but Lauren was chatting with Anka and her husband, and Paul was nowhere to be seen. I took Mike’s hand and pulled on it for attention. “Focus. At dinner your mom always says that she met up with someone for lunch, and I know she goes into town twice a week for yoga and to talk to that woman at the art gallery. But that doesn’t seem like much.”
“How long has this been going on?”
I sighed. “Mike. You would make the worst spy in the world.”
“You say that like it’s an actual, serious failing. Where’s Paul?”
Because it totally was. “How did she meet your dad?”
He kept scanning the pub. “She worked at the hardware store his second-cousin owned in Southie.”
We were interrupted by a red-cheeked O’Malley, who really just wanted a second of Mike’s time to gloat, and he hadn’t even been on the field. “Not so good at football, now, O’Connor.”
Mike shook his head at the older man. “You come over to the States and try our version, and then see how well you do.”
“Don’t be sore about it. I’ll buy you a pint.” Grinning like a madmen, O’Malley went off.
I propped my chin on my hand. “See? All you have to do to get people to like you is lose.”
Mike shook his head. “No one in this village takes me seriously.”
“That’s because they’re just too used to you troublesome O’Connors. But at least they buy you beer.”
“There’s that.” His eyes tracked to the side. “One sec. I have to go punch Paul in the face.”
I rolled my eyes as he climbed out of his seat. “Play nice!”
When they came back, Mike looked satisfied, and Paul looked irritated, and no one looked too banged up. In fact, they both swung their arms.
“Done playing in the dirt, boys?”
Paul scowled. “Hardly fair when he’s a professional athlete.”
“Don’t whine. It’s unattractive.”
“Not really looking to pick you up, love.”
Mike draped his arm around me. “Not your love.”
I knocked my shoulder against him. “Smug’s not attractive, either.”
Mike kissed me. “I’ve been wanting to beat the crap out of this guy for ages. I’m feeling a lot better now.”