I take my hand away from my mouth and reveal my smile. “Kidding.”

“Christ, you almost gave me a heart attack. Took well over a week chasing the apes down to pay last time.”

“Nope, everything’s good. It’s in the cash drawer. Big cash town.”

“They know that’s what we prefer.”

“Doesn’t every business?” I ask.

“They’re an understanding bunch, them.” He nods at the throng. “During particularly hard times, my mam will come in and charge everyone double, and if they don’t like it they can leave.”

“What happens?”

“Well, she’s a bit of a force to be reckoned with, so they pay triple.”

I laugh.

He looks unsettled and I feel sorry that I don’t know anything about our life together or the details about him the way he knows them about me.

“Anyway,” he goes on, changing the subject back. “You were a complete tornado every other time. It would have been easier to do it all myself.”

“Wow. Rude!”

“I’m not trying to be an arsehole,” he says. “You were just that bad.”

“Ice cold, Cillian.”

“And yet, tonight, you’re perfect. You didn’t feck anything up. How exactly is that?”

“I spilled a lot of beer. I always do. My mats were always full by the end of the night. It would be embarrassing if I wasn’t also really quite good at the rest of it.”

He squints. “You did the work of two good bartenders here tonight, and as far as I’ve ever known, you’ve been about as useful as a T. rex with a broken cocktail shaker in the past.”

“Okay, okay,” I say, unable to hide my amusement at the mental image. “I get it, I—oh, wait. Are you saying you believe what I’ve told you, then?”

“I’m saying that you were so shite at bartending last time that I can think of only one explanation for how you’re that much more competent. It’s literally easier to believe in magic than to believe you improved that much overnight.”

I gnaw on the inside of my cheek as I watch him. He’s kidding, I know that, and it makes me want to kiss him.

I can’t understand how, in any world, I could ever dump this guy.

“Can I get a whiskey, darlin’?”

I turn to see a man standing at the bar. Bernard, I remember. He’s the one with the big dog.

“Hi, Bernard, of course. The house?” I ask.

“That’ll do.”