“Well,” said Lissa, “I quite like it.”

“I see your point,” Roisin sniffed, and Lissa bent again to the black-and-white sheet of paper.

Chapter 61

Cormac woke early that morning, the room stuffy already, excited about something before he remembered exactly what it was. He sat up, grinning to himself. Then he stopped and felt worried instead. Today was the day. He was going to meet Lissa.

He told himself to stop being daft. He was a grown man, and he felt like a teenager on a first date. Getting overexcited was only going to lead to disappointment. Plus, she was stressed out and worried anyway; the last thing she’d be thinking about was him. But he could be there, take her to lunch—he was proud of discovering somewhere lovely to take her—listen, get to know her. That was all. Yes.

He still couldn’t keep that infernal smile off his face as he got into the shower and pondered the new, slightly flowery shirt Kim-Ange had persuaded him to buy. It wasn’t his style at all and had been to his mind hideously expensive, but Kim-Ange had been extremely persuasive on the issue, and sure enough, nobody had pointed and laughed when he’d worn it to the pub for half an hour just to give it a tryout.

The way he was thinking about Lissa, though . . . nothing about Emer or Yazzie had ever come close to. No. He was being ridiculous. Overthinking everything.

But it was the first time in such a long time that he’d just felt so . . . so alive.

He thought back to Robbie. He’d better call Lennox and see how he was doing, although so far no news felt like good news. And Lissa would be seeing him, of course . . .

Don’t go overboard, he told himself. She was in for such a tough day. Testifying in court. Reliving that awful time. He had to play it cool.

Or, he also found himself thinking, he could turn up early, go support her in court. It wasn’t right she had to be in court by herself. He could just say hi, just let her know that he was there for her. Would that be weird?

It was a glorious day out there. Perhaps he would take a stroll—just a casual stroll—in his new shirt along the south bank, a place he had come to . . . Well, it wasn’t Scotland. But it definitely had something. So. He could take a stroll. Get a lovely cup of coffee that took someone quite a while to make grinding beans and stuff, and, well, he could see where the day took him.

THE CURVACEOUS WOMAN with the thick spectacles and the tightly pulled back hair barely gave the man in the flowery shirt who held the door open for her a second glance as she marched toward it, head down, anxious beyond belief about what was coming.