Catherine Walsh

Andrew Fitzpatrick’s shocked look disappears as soon as he sees me. He grins up at me with those hazel eyes as if I’m the best thing that’s happened to his day. I know he’s the best thing that’s happened to mine.

“Is he okay?” he asks.

“He’s vegan,”

“We have to be up in five hours. Do you really want to do this now?”

“You want to wait another ten years?”

“You said you didn’t want to do it again.”

“I was obviously lying!”

“I liked it when we kissed,” I repeat, folding my arms under my chest.

“So why did you freak out?”

“Because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. I like our friendship. It’s important to me and I didn’t want to lose it.”

“You’re not going to.”

“So, you’re scared of liking me because you’re scared of losing me?”

“I’m going to take you up on deck when we get to Dublin.”

“You can do whatever you like to me,”

“That could be anything,” I say. “It could be drugs. A lot of drugs in this city. It’s a big problem.”

“When you say taking it slow,” I mutter, and he smiles before kissing me again.

“We’re going to the labor ward,” Cara says.

“The… Why?”

She doesn’t even blink. “Because you’re going into labor.”

“This can’t be happening,” Zoe repeats for the twelfth time. She passes the clipboard back and turns her wild gaze to me. “I can’t have a December Capricorn.”

“It turned out okay for Jesus.”

“The man was crucified, Molly!”