Whacking him on the back of his skull with a spoon shut him up for a minute. Rubbing at the back of his head, Lorcan straightened up and let the last dregs of laughter siphon away.
“I know, I know,” he protested. You know, maybe it wasn’t funny at all. Maybe this was the worst thing. For one: Lorcan’s father was already pretty much proof that Byrnes were not meant to be fathers. For two: Lorcan was Lorcan. For three: Maggie was Maggie, and the bakery was meant to be her dream, not motherhood. For four - oh, he didn’t know.
“That’s - grand,” Lorcan said finally, plastering a smile to his face but looking at her with widened eyes, a little helpless, not sure what she was expecting him to say. What was the appropriate reaction to this news? Was she over the moon or resenting him for how he’d unwittingly blown her dreams to smithereens? Who could say.
Not Lorcan, anyway. “...what are we going to do?”
“I know, I know,” he protested. You know, maybe it wasn’t funny at all. Maybe this was the worst thing. For one: Lorcan’s father was already pretty much proof that Byrnes were not meant to be fathers. For two: Lorcan was Lorcan. For three: Maggie was Maggie, and the bakery was meant to be her dream, not motherhood. For four - oh, he didn’t know.
“That’s - grand,” Lorcan said finally, plastering a smile to his face but looking at her with widened eyes, a little helpless, not sure what she was expecting him to say. What was the appropriate reaction to this news? Was she over the moon or resenting him for how he’d unwittingly blown her dreams to smithereens? Who could say.
Not Lorcan, anyway. “...what are we going to do?”
