Aidan looks up from the table where he’s sitting reading the paper. He shoots me a keen gaze. “You okay?”

I nod. “I’m so sorry to come here and dump everything on you.”

“You didn’t exactly dump, sweetheart. Just turned up looking heartbroken, said you’d had words with Misha, and then tried to comfort me about the whole situation.”

I wince. “I think I was more tired than I thought.”

He gets up and brushes my hair back so he can look at my face. His eyes are bright and knowing. “Well, you look a lot better now. You looked like shit earlier.”

I think of the man—Adam—at the wedding and wince again. “Great. Just what I wanted to know. I’m pretty sure that Mr Perfect didn’t end up sleeping at his dads’ house dressed in old sweats and a Mutant Ninja T-shirt.”

“That green really sets off your complexion though,” he assures me gravely. He grins as I raise my middle finger at him.

He walks over to the kettle and switches it on. “Charlie, I’m pretty sure that Misha would fancy you if you were coming down with the flu, so get that other bloke out of your head.” He looks back at me. “It’s no surprise that you were out of sorts. You had a turn this morning in front of someone you’ve entered into a new relationship with, which is bound to be strange for the first few times. Then you tried to run around all afternoon at a wedding being Mr Congeniality.”

“I didn’t have a sash, so it doesn’t count.”

“I’ll make you one,” Aidan assures me and puts a cup of tea down on the table. “Come and sit with me, asthore.” He smiles at me as I obey him. “Did I ever tell you about the time your dad and I split up?”

“What?” I jerk, startled. “I didn’t know that. When?”

“It was a long time ago. You were small and didn’t know anything about it.”

“What happened?”

He rests his elbows on the table and looks at me. There are crow’s feet around his eyes, and the dark waves of his hair have some grey in them, but his eyes are still that golden green, and I only have to look at him to see the merry man who’d entered our family and made it complete.

“I love you so much,” I say impulsively and his eyes warm even more.

“I love you too, Charlie. It’s been one of the great joys of my life to have had a hand in raising you.” He winks. “Just be thankful, though, that your mam and dad had more of a share.”

“Never mind that. Why did you split up?”

“I didn’t treat him well at first,” he says slowly, the Irish in his accent thick.

“Really?”