15 May 2020

Co. Wicklow, IE

Positive COVID Cases: 23,956

Deaths: 1,518

Andrew yawned as he swiveled in his desk chair, pen in hand, notebook open in front of him. The beginnings of a song were staring up at him and he was looking back with an empty mind. The urge to write had sprung upon him earlier that morning, but by the time he'd gathered himself and sat down an hour later, all inspiration was gone. He drummed his fingers against the paper and sighed again. Alex was good at breaking him out of these funks, but he'd left the night beforehand to drive to his parents' home.

A summer storm was rolling through and heavy gunmetal grey clouds pelted the windows with rain. A crow was taking shelter in a tree outside his office window and he found himself drawn to it. He stood and walked over to get a better look, leaning against the window sill. The bird had burrowed into the leaves, grooming itself in an attempt to dry off faster. Its feathers were a vibrant black against the lush green of the tree.

The silence in the room was deafening. The rest of the house was no better. Despite Finn's rambunctious nature, Cassie did her best to keep him under constant supervision. She seemed to be perpetually following him around, tidying messes as they happened and apologizing profusely. So far, the casualties had been two white bath towels permanently stained with mud, a crystal vase knocked off an end table, and a large tomato sauce stain on the kitchen runner. Not to mention the dirty hand and finger prints on windows and walls.

Cassie was adamant that she would replace everything and he could see the remorse and embarrassment on her face each time new damage appeared. He was trying to be patient and understanding - Finn was a toddler and toddlers were inherently destructive - but it was getting harder and harder to ignore the slight feeling of regret that was creeping across the back of his mind like water leeching up through a crack in the floor. It was a stark reminder of how very different their lives were. The noise was a nice distraction but Andrew wasn't quite sure the destruction was a good trade off for a lack of solitude.

He heard footsteps in the corridor outside the office and looked up when Cassie appeared. She hesitated when she saw the open notebook on his desk.

"You're busy," she stated. "I'll come back."

He turned to face her and motioned her in. "Don't - its fine. What's up?" he asked, tucking his hands into his pockets.

She took a cautious step into the room, looking around. "I was just wondering if you'd be OK with me filming a few things for Instagram here," she explained. "My publisher wants a few things to use for press."

"Ehm...what types of things?" he asked, scratching his eyebrow.

"Just a few ads for the book," she explained with a shrug. "Since I can't really do press."

"Oh, ehm, sure - yeah, I guess," he replied. "Just try not to get anything too recognizable in the background." At her raised eyebrow, he explained. "I don't want people to try to connect us. You know, like trying to start rumors or something."

"Oh, right. Yeah," she chuckled. "Yeah, I can do that. I'll just do like a blank wall or something. If you want, I can show you first."

He shook his head quickly. "No, that's alright. I trust you." 

She hovered in the doorway and an awkward silence passed between them. She'd been there a few days but hadn't come into his study yet. He was the same at her place. He'd stayed out of her office; it seemed like an invasion of privacy to see where she created.

"Have you read all of these?" she asked, nodding to the books on the walls.

He followed her gaze. "Regrettably, no," he smiled. "I always have the best intentions when I go into a book shop. But I never seem to follow through."

"What are you reading right now?" she asked as she took a step closer to one of the book cases. She tilted her head as she perused his collection.

"For some inexplainable reason, I've pick up Dante's Inferno," he replied.

Her head snapped up in surprise. "Why the fuck would you do that?" she chuckled. "Aren't we all suffering enough?"

He laughed. "I'm a masochist, what can I say?"

"The brief overview we did on Roman literature I got at university was more than enough for me," she stated. "Its better left to the scholars."

"I agree. Its horribly dry," he admitted.

"So why are you reading it?" she crossed her arms over her chest.

He shrugged. "It seemed like a nice challenge to set myself."

She shook her head and smiled. "A friend of mine in university once read it in its original Italian."

"Good Christ," he exclaimed. "I'm not that motivated."

She brought her finger to the bright orange spine of a book. It stood out among the darker colors of the other books. He recognized it immediately.

"Oh - that's -," he started, stepping toward her.

She pulled the book off the shelf and smiled. "Mind Palace," she read. "I hear its really good," she smirked, cracking it open and letting the pages fall naturally. She blinked when she looked down. "Jesus, Andrew. You wrote a second novel in here."

The pages were dog-eared and covered in smudged pencil, hastily-scrawled notes filled the margins. He shrank back a bit and tucked his hands into his pockets in embarrassment.

"That's...yeah. Sorry," he muttered.

She brought the book closer to her face and squinted as she tried to read his scrunched words. "No, its cute," she chuckled. "Jessie's brainwashing equals oppression of women. That's not what I had in mind when I wrote it, but its interesting that you interpreted it that way."

"I just thought that's what it signified," he said. He reached for the book but she turned away from him and continued reading.

"Did you analyze the entire book?" she asked. "This thing looks like its been in the wars."

He took the book from her hand carefully and closed it. "Ehm...yeah. I bought it in an airport during my first album cycle. I spent any spare time I had reading it."

"Clearly," Cassie chuckled.

"Yeah...it was kind of my introduction to your work," he explained.

"Well I'm flattered," she smiled.

He put the book on his desk and leaned against the front of it. "All of your books don't look like that," he said quickly. "It was just something I did to distract myself from the chaos of the tour. It was grounding in a sense." He crossed his arms over his chest defensively, suddenly feeling very embarrassed.

"I'm glad it helped," she said.

"If you - if you need any help filming anything, let me know," he offered. "I'm happy to help."

"Thanks, but I'm probably alright," Cassie nodded and turned to leave. She stopped suddenly, remembering something. "Oh - about that statue this morning," she started.

He blinked in surprise. "What statue?"

She froze. "Uh...the statue Finn knocked off the pedestal on the landing?"

Andrew pushed off the desk and walked ahead of her into the corridor. He was trying to picture the statue she was talking about. Whilst decorating his home, his mother had helped steer him quite a bit. But over time, he'd gotten gifts from friends and family that had found permanent places all over his house.

"I'll pay for a new one, I just needed to know where you got it," she said, following him down the corridor to the entryway.

He took the steps two at a time to the landing. A crystal statue was laid on top of a wooden plant stand in front of a large window. It had been split cleanly in half and several smaller chunks sat next to it. On sunny days, the statue reflected the light and sent rainbows arcing through the entryway. It had been a gift from an aunt he'd never liked and he was honestly relieved to be rid of it. He let out a sigh.

"Oh - don't worry about that," he said casually.

"Really?" she asked in surprise.

"Yeah," he said. "I've hated that thing for years," he chuckled. "I distant aunt gave it to me when I moved in. I've never known where to put it and I've been looking for a reason to bin it without insulting anyone."

She let out a sigh of relief and leaned against the railing. "Oh thank fuck. I thought for sure you'd be upset."

He shrugged. "Not really. It was beautiful, but it didn't really suit the house. Plus, Alex has nearly knocked it over at least three times by now. So its probably for the best. I'm surprised its lasted this long."

"I'll cross it off the list," she said. "I'm sorry, again, about all the damage he's doing. I'm so used to having all of the breakable things put up and away that I didn't even realize how different it would be here."

He did his best to put on a polite smile. "Its...its alright."

In truth, he was slightly bothered by how often Finn seemed to be destroying something of his. It was a shock to his system how easily the toddler managed to get into trouble. When he'd been at Cassie's home, most of the dangers were put away and everything was child-focused. The rugs were easily cleaned, the sofa cushions covered in removable covers, and the hard surfaces were free of spaces for dirt and grime to hide. His home was not child-friendly.

Though he'd been enjoying playing football in the field and working in the garden with Finn, Andrew struggled to truly relate and connect with him. It was like that with all his friends' kids. They were fun to chat with and play with but ultimately they weren't really his cup of tea. Not right now, anyway. He certainly didn't see how they could fit into his current lifestyle.

Cassie was really the draw for him. When Alex was here, the three of them had spent every evening with a few drinks, chatting or playing a game. The night before Alex left they'd had a rousing game of poker and he'd learned she was quite astute at the game. Last night, he and Cassie had stayed up until well past midnight whilst he tried to convince her that Blues Brothers was the best film ever made.

"So tonight I was thinking of a steak fettuccine," she said, ending the silence. "Does that work?"

He felt his mouth water at the suggestion. "Ehm, yeah. That sounds fantastic, actually." He coughed to hide the way his stomach grumbled.

If she heard it, she didn't show it. "Great. Finn's asleep so I'm going to try to get some prep done."

"Could I help?" he asked. "I feel like I should. You've done all the cooking so far."

"If anyone owes anyone, its me," she replied, starting down the stairs. "I'm fairly certain Finn's destruction bill has reached five digits by now."

He chuckled. "I mean, I'm happy to accept food as payment, like."

They walked into the kitchen and he watched as she washed her hands and then moved to the refrigerator to pull out two small steaks, setting them on the bench top and busying herself with pulling other ingredients from the cupboards. She looked up as he planted himself on a bar stool.

"Andrew, I mean it. You don't need to help," she told him with a laugh. "I'm sure you've got better things to do."

He shook his head. "Not really. I'm brewing."

She raised her eyebrows as she began to mix several spices in a bowl. "So...when you're in the writing process...do you have like a deadline or anything?"

"Ehm...not generally," he started. "I will usually talk with the label and give them a run down of the theme I'm planning. Maybe play a few demos I've recorded already. Then it comes down to how long I think it'll take me to record the whole album."

"That's so bizarre. I submit chapters to my editor, she gives me a deadline for more, and then it continues until a full manuscript is done," Cassie explained as she began to rub the spices onto the meat. "Then we typically set an expected release date once they see how much work needs to be done."

"That sounds exhausting," he said. "No wonder you're so stressed."

Cassie shrugged. "I mean, it keeps me from taking ages to get something done, so at least there's that. If I didn't have those deadlines, I'd never release anything new."

He watched as she pulled one of the beeswax wraps from a drawer. She seemed more comfortable in his kitchen after just a few days than he did after a few years.

"So what happens once you finish the album? Like how long does it sit on a shelf until its released?" she asked.

"Since I do vinyl pressings, I have to have the album finalized about four months before release day; three-ish months for the pressing and a month or so for distribution to record stores and other places," he explained.

"Isn't it so weird when you're in that limbo?" she said as she put the wrapped steaks into a glass dish and returned them to the fridge. "That limbo when you're done with the work but its just...sitting there?" she called over the running tap.

"Oh fuck, its the worst thing," he laughed. "Because you can't really say anything! To anyone!"

"YES!" she laughed, drying her hands. "It was always so annoying for me. We would share release dates about two months beforehand, but the book had to be to the publisher two months before that for artwork and typesetting finalizations. I always felt so weird around my friends, not being able to tell them anything."

"I'm always paranoid I'll let something slip when I'm out with the lads and someone'll overhear."

"You've never had any leaks though," she replied. "I've had the press digging through my bins like I'm writing government secrets."

He chuckled. "I've not had that one yet. Not that I know of, anyway."

"Lesson learned: keep the bins under lock and key," she winked.

"I was wondering why you had a padlock on your bins," he said, a sudden recollection of taking the rubbish out flashing back into his mind.

"Sort of a holdover from London," she smirked. "Old habits and all that." She glanced at the time on her phone. "That's all I needed to do for a bit. I'll finish the rest in a while. Looks like you're out of excuses."

He groaned and slid off the bar stool dramatically. "I suppose you're right."

He walked back through the house as she busied herself with another task.

You should pick up some of her recipes, he thought. You'll feckin' starve when she leaves otherwise.

Three hours later, after dinner had been eaten and the washing up done, the three of them were out for a walk in the early evening light. The rain had stopped and everything was glistening with water droplets as the sun sank closer to the horizon. Finn was jumping in puddles on the sidewalk, his bright orange Wellingtons splashing water up onto his pants. The streets were largely empty, save for an elderly couple walking further up the road toward the beach.

"You're going to have to leave me all of your recipes," Andrew said, lifting a wet branch out of his way and holding it up for Cassie to pass under. "I'll be disappointed in my own cooking after you leave."

She laughed. "Its not really that complicated; you read the recipe, buy the right ingredients, follow the directions, and then you get the result. I don't understand how people manage to screw shit up."

"I don't know. There's a bit of an art to it, like." He sidestepped a puddle just before Finn pounced on it. "Like you could stir something too much or not enough. Or wait too long to put it in the oven. Or maybe not have the heat up completely on the stove. Things like that."

She shrugged. "Maybe. But there are some things that are obvious."

"Mama, wook!" Finn shouted, dashing several steps ahead toward an intersection.

"Finn, wait! Don't run into the street, please!" Cassie called after him. "FINN! Stop!"

The toddler was dangerously close to the intersection just as an SUV came barreling around a corner. Andrew closed the gap in several long strides, yanking him back from the curb by the hood of his frog-green rain slicker. He stumbled backwards, his rubber boots squeaking slightly on the sidewalk just as Cassie caught up to them.

"Finn, I've told you no running near the street!" she exclaimed, slightly out of breath. "Did you see the big car that was coming toward you?" He shook his head as he stared up at her with big eyes. "You almost ran right in front of it. You could have gotten hurt. If Andrew hadn't stopped you, something really bad could have happened."

"I'm sowee, Mama," Finn replied, shrinking slightly.

"I know you are, Bug. But that's why you need to listen to me," she said. "Can you hold my hand for now, please?"

Finn reluctantly took Cassie's hand and the two proceeded in front of Andrew.

"Maybe you should get one of those child leads for him," he suggested with a chuckle.

"Jesus, sometimes I wish I could," she said over her shoulder. "I think its just the rain. He's been cooped up all day."

He laughed and followed them across the street. The rain had brought all of the grass back up to a deep, vibrant green. They passed several fields that were teeming with sheep, their cream colored coats heavy and wet with rain. Finn wanted to pet one, but Cassie pulled him back when she realized there was an electric fence running along the perimeter.

They continued up the road for a bit and he enjoyed the fresh, clean scent rain always left in the air. Regardless of the near-constant damp during the autumn and winter, Andrew had never disliked the coolness rain brought. It turned crisp autumn mornings crisper and harsh winter nights harsher and there was a certain stark beauty to it that seemed to suit Ireland as a whole very well.

A hot shower greeted him once they returned. He stood under the stream, letting the water pour over his closed eyes. He inhaled the steam and enjoyed the way it filled his lungs to capacity, nearly making them burst.

Earlier that day, his friend who was a doctor had given him a gruesome play-by-play of what was happening to COVID patients in the hospital wards, how their lungs were slowly filling with fluid. They were drowning on dry land with hacking coughs and wet gasps for air until they were placed on a ventilator that would breathe for them. If they were lucky, they survived the ventilator. But so far his friend had only pulled a ventilator off one patient and had them live.

It was a sobering reminder of what could be anyone's future at any time.

The words hung in his mind as he opened his mouth and let the water pour in, overflowing and spilling down his chin and neck. He spat and ran his fingers through his hair, easing the shampoo through the thick curls. He scrunched his finger nails across his scalp and then let the water rinse the suds away.

A soft melody formed in his mind and began to slip past his lips. His hums bounced off the dark green tile and drifted out with the steam, eventually morphing into a jazzy version of California Dreamin' by the Mama's and the Papa's. He rinsed off again and turned the water off before reaching for the plush white towel draped over the glass door.

He dried off quickly and toweled his hair as best he could before pulling a t-shirt and a knit jumper over his head and pair of pajama bottoms over his boxers. He grabbed a pair of socks from the drawer and sat on the end of his bed to pull them on. He heard Finn's raucous laughter in the corridor and went to the door to see what was happening.

"What's the craic?" he asked, rounding the corner of the room Cassie was sharing with the toddler. 

Finn was in the process of trying to pull his pajama top over head but it was stuck with half of his wet curls peeking out through the stretched collar.

"I can't see, Mama," he giggled.

Cassie was sat on the floor in front of him with a bath towel next to her. "Come here, Bug. I think you've outgrown this shirt." She reached out for him and pulled him closer by the waistband of his pants. "We might need to pick a different shirt. I don't think this one fits you anymore."

Finn's face appeared, a broad grin across it, hair mussed and frizzy on his head. "Dat's siwwy Mama."

Andrew watched as she gave him a new shirt and he pulled it over his head easily. "There. All sorted. Come on. Into bed," she said, heaving herself up from the floor with a groan.

"Do you need a hand?" Andrew asked with a smirk.

"No, thanks. I'm not ancient yet," Cassie said, standing. "Maybe next week though," she joked, arching her back to stretch it.

"I'll be downstairs," he told her. "Night, Finn."

"Night, Andwew!" Finn called as he clambered into the bed.

Andrew made his way down to the kitchen and cracked open a beer. He set to tidying up the last few things from dinner. He knew Cassie would join him once Finn was down for the night. It had become their routine since he'd gone into the city to help her and he found that their nightly sessions had become the highlight of his days. Sure enough, ten minutes later Cassie appeared. He pushed a glass of red wine across the bench top toward her.

"Oh bless you," she said with a relieved sigh as she took a sip and closed her eyes. "Does it make me an alcoholic that I'm drinking every night these days?"

He shrugged. "If it does, we both need a trip to rehab." He stood up and nodded toward the door. "Sit outside?"

She shook her head. "Its chilly. Let's sit in the front room instead."

He followed her through the house, wine bottle in hand. He turned on the lamp by the door, casting the room in a soft golden glow. They settled into the sofa, him on one end, her on the other, facing each other.

"Did you get much writing done?" she asked, taking another sip.

He scoffed. "No. Sometimes I wish I was being more productive. I kind of figured that when this thing was over, I'd jump into the studio and start recording again." He took a swig from his beer. "But none of us knows how long this thing is going to go on."

"That's not true," she offered. "They're starting to lift restrictions in a few days."

"Right, here," he said pointedly. "They're lifting restrictions here. If I record an album and release it, I need to be able to tour internationally. So it seems sort of pointless to go into the studio if I can't even follow through with the normal plan."

She nodded in understanding. "My agent keeps trying to set plans for a book tour, but she can't get anyone to confirm or accept anything because everything is so uncertain right now." She took a sip from her own glass and let out a little hum. "Andrew, I don't know where you got this, but its so fucking good," she said, scooting closer and lifting her glass toward him. "Try it."

He hesitated, but took the glass from her, taking a sip. The wine slid over his tongue smoothly. "Shit. You're right." He passed the glass back to her. "I just got it at the off license in Kilcoole. I didn't know they kept anything this good."

"See, that's one thing that I miss about the States," she said. "You didn't need to get your hooch in a different store."

He laughed and returned to his beer. "That is nice when I'm there. My tour manager usually just needs to run in one place and things are sorted. Its really nice when you're just doing a drive by."

Cassie chuckled. "A drive-by hooching, if you will."

He smirked around his beer. "I'm pretty sure those are illegal in the States," he teased. "Here, too."

"Ah well. What can you do," she mused, taking another sip. "We'll just have to suffer, I suppose."

The beer was relaxing him and the gruesome images from his friend's descriptions began to dissolve in his mind.

"When they lift the restrictions, what's the first thing you're gonna do?" she asked. Her glass was almost empty and she set it on the coffee table to refill it.

He inhaled slowly and looked across the room in thought. "Probably meet friends at the beach or something. You?"

She blew out a long breath. "Go back into hiding in Dublin."

"Finn's not going back to school?"

Cassie shook her head. "No. I don't want to risk anything. He doesn't need to go back right now. Plus, his school said they'd hold his space as long as I continued to pay the fees for it."

"That's nice, at least," he nodded. "But won't it be just as hard to get work done? Won't it be just like it was before?"

"I hope its not," she responded. "If they're telling the truth, and things are really reopening, then hopefully we can get outside and do more things."

He downed the last of his beer and stood. "I'll be right back. Need anything?"

She shook her head and he walked back through the house to the kitchen. On his way back to the front room, his phone began buzzing in his pocket. His mother's name shone brightly on the screen.

"Mum? Hey, what's up?" he asked, rounding the corner to the front room. Cassie looked up as he set his new beer bottle on the coffee table.

"I wanted to see when it was a good time for me to stop by and thank Cassie," his mother's voice sounded in is ear. "She's been there for a few days, hasn't she?"

He glanced over his shoulder at Cassie. "Ehm...yeah she has."

"Grand. I'll pop round tomorrow afternoon," she replied.

"Mum, I'm not -," he hesitated.

"What? Do you have plans?" she asked.

"No, obviously not," he sighed.

"Good. I'll be there around two," she stated. "We can meet in the front. I don't have to come inside. By the way, does she like chocolate cake?"

He pulled the phone from his ear and turned to Cassie. "Do you like chocolate cake?" he asked her.

Cassie blinked in surprise. "Oh - I, uh, sure? I guess?" She tilted her head in confusion.

He shook his head and held up a dismissive hand. "Yes, Mum. She likes chocolate cake."

"What about Finn?"

"Mum, he's two. What two year old doesn't like chocolate cake?" Andrew asked, raking his hand through his hair.

"I just thought I'd ask," she answered. "Anyway, I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night."

He sighed and ended the call, closing his eyes tightly.

"What was that about?" Cassie asked.

He turned toward her and picked up his beer. "My mum is apparently coming by tomorrow to thank you for setting them up with Tadgh." He sat down facing her, folding one of his legs under himself. "Apparently she's bringing cake."

"Oh, lucky me," she smirked, downing the last of her wine.

Andrew laughed. The second beer was beginning to hit him, but just barely. He felt his inhibitions beginning to falter slightly. "I have no clue what she's got planned, but she insisted. So I apologize in advance."

She scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. I'm sure it'll be fine. What's she gonna do? Show up and dance a meringue?"

He burst into laughter at the image. "Christ, I fucking hope not!"

"Does she have an opinion on me being here with you?" she asked, putting her empty glass on the coffee table.

"When I told her, she didn't really have an opinion, to be honest," he sighed, the laughter inside him dying down slightly. "Jon did, though, so that was fun." Cassie raised an eyebrow in inquiry. "He thought for sure we were..." he gestured between the two of them. "You know, together."

She nodded in understanding. "I can't really blame him, though. It is a little weird that you'd let a single mother and her toddler come live with you for two weeks. I can see his confusion." She ran her fingers through her hair. It was glowing in the golden lamplight. "I don't understand how its so impossible for people to believe a man and a woman can just be friends and nothing else."

"I can see how it would be hard to believe " Andrew said, a smile bursting from his mouth.

"Andrew, I'm a single mother with a toddler. How could that possibly be appealing to anyone?" she insisted playfully.

"Cass, they'd have to be fucking blind," he replied. He saw a slight blush rise on her cheeks. "I mean, you're funny and talented and intelligent. Its easy to see how someone could be attracted to you."

"There aren't that many guys queuing up to date me, Andrew," she scoffed. "But thanks all the same."

"I'd date you," he said simply, taking another drink and shrugging.

"That's only because you know me now," she insisted, not missing a beat. "There's no way you'd see me on a dating app and go 'hmm, chick with a kid, seems like a catch, SMASH.'"

He nearly spat out his beer at her joke. A small stream had dribbled out of the corner of his mouth as he hastily tried to swallow before the laugh exploded out of him. "Jesus, fuck!" he exclaimed.

"I mean, am I wrong? It throws things off a bit, right?" she asked.

Andrew leaned his elbow against the back of the sofa and looked over at her. "It could, for some people, I suppose."

"See?" she gestured to him. "I told you. Pity dates only, from now on." A comfortable silence fell between them for a few seconds. "Not that your opinion really holds weight, here. I'm sure you've got some girl tucked away somewhere."

He shook his head and let out a soft laugh. "No."

She raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "Really?" He shrugged. "Why the fuck not?" she asked. "I have a kid. What's your excuse?"

He pushed his glasses further up his nose and shook his head. "Its...its hard to date when your face is all over the place. After Church came out it was like...it was as though everyone wanted a piece of me. I had women throwing themselves at me at every show and it was...a lot. I'd only ever had one serious girlfriend up to that point and that relationship had imploded in a fantastically terrible way." He sighed and cleared his throat. "When I got back home after something like two straight years away, it felt like I was still everywhere. Finding someone became really hard. Especially with the fame and money aspect."

"Did you ever have a woman try to use you for those things?" Cassie asked.

He looked away from her and took a drink, unwilling to admit how many times he'd dumbly fallen victim to a beautiful, morally gray woman.

"So that's a yes, then?" she suggested with a wry smile.

He let out a short breath. "On more than one occasion."

"It must be really isolating," she murmured.

He tilted his head. "It can be." Suddenly he was very aware of her knee pressed against his shin. "I've got the lads and all that, so its not really a big issue most times."

"What if you need to...you know...scratch an itch?" she asked pointedly.

The heat returned to his face and he bit his bottom lip. "Surprisingly, that urge doesn't happen often." He rubbed the back of his neck.

"Andrew, you lie like a rug!" Cassie exclaimed playfully. "I've read your lyrics. Its one giant ride-fest."

He laughed and the heat rose. "Just because I write about sex a lot it doesn't mean I'm having a lot of it."

"But you're thinking about it a lot," she reasoned.

He inclined his head in acknowledgement. "Yes," he admitted. "There's nothing wrong with that."

Her cornflower blue eyes met his. He noticed they looked darker in the dim light. 

"So what keeps you from acting on it?" she asked. "I'm sure there are plenty of women who would gladly fulfill that need for you."

"Yeah, but I don't really think I'm built for something casual like that," he said. "Its not really how my brain works."

She shrugged. "I'd go out with you once," she said. "Give it a bash. We'd probably have a horrible time though," she chuckled.

"I appreciate the consideration," he smiled.

"No problem," she smirked. "I'm not blind, either, Andrew," she added with a wink.

Another few moments passed between them. Her knee still pressed against his shin on the sofa, but he didn't feel like moving it. He looked at her as she stared out the window into the dark night. She looked so young. He forgot that she was only twenty-four. She had a sharp jaw, high cheekbones and a perfect, gentle-sloping nose sat above wide lips. All the classic traits of youth. But her eyes held wisdom beyond their years and he was drawn to them each time they met his. He looked away from her just as she glanced in his direction.

"I should get to bed," she said softly. "Finn'll be up bright and early tomorrow."

Andrew nodded and followed her into the kitchen to put his bottle in the recycling bin. She washed her glass quickly whilst he adjusted the bar stools.

"Ready to head up?" he asked.

"You don't have to walk me to bed, Andrew," she teased. "I'm a big girl. I can manage it."

"I'm just trying to be gentlemanly," he replied, sticking his tongue out.

He followed her out of the kitchen, turning off lights as he went. She walked ahead of him on the stairs and stopped at the top where the corridor split in two. Her room was on one side of the house whilst his was on the other. She looked up at him, the panes of her face illuminated by the moonlight coming through the landing window.

"Goodnight, Andrew," she said softly. "See you in the morning."

A sudden urge rose up inside of him. He wasn't sure what drove him to do it, but he leaned across the meager distance between them and pressed his lips to hers. For the briefest of moments, they were soft against his, like biting into a peach. Then she pulled away from him and brought her finger tips to her mouth. He looked back at her wide eyes, realizing his mistake a moment too late before she turned and hurried to her bedroom.

He stepped forward and opened his mouth to call for her, but she closed the door silently.

***

The next morning, Andrew dragged his feet in getting out of bed.

He'd spent the bulk of the previous evening replaying their conversation, struggling to pinpoint where he'd gotten the idea that she wanted him to kiss her. When he came up empty, he figured it must have been the alcohol. Or his own sheer stupidity.

The surprised look on her face haunted his dreams. He wasn't sure if it was good or bad, but he was fairly certain the fact that she had walked away in silence was a good indicator.

How could you be so fucking stupid? he asked himself. She wasn't giving you any signals. She probably thinks you expect something from her now.

He glanced at the clock on his nightstand. Ten AM.

Surely she'd be done with Finn's breakfast by now. He sat up with a sigh and swung his feet to the floor, stretching his arms over his head. He stood and cracked his back before sliding his feet into his house shoes and heading down to the kitchen.

He deflated slightly when he heard Finn's voice over the sound of the tap running. Part of him hoped that they'd have gone for a walk or something without him so he'd have more time to formulate his apology and figure out how he was going to beg for her forgiveness. As he stepped into the kitchen, he saw Finn at the island with crayons and paper in front of him. He looked up as Andrew walked by him.

"Andwew, you sweepyhead," he chided with a smile. "You missed bweakfast,"

He gave the toddler a smile and made his way to the coffee pot, which - mercifully - still had coffee in it. Cassie didn't move from the sink, but he did his best to keep his distance all the same. He prepared his mug and moved to sit next to Finn. The toddler had scribbled several colors around the paper and was in the process of attempting a lopsided circle with an orange crayon.

"Andwew, can you dwaw a circle?" he asked, holding out the crayon.

Without thinking, Andrew took the crayon and drew a circle in one corner of the page, keeping an eye on Cassie's back.

"Cassie -," he began.

She turned around and interrupted him. "Finn, why don't you go outside and check on the flowers?" she suggested, drying her hands on a towel.

Finn climbed down from his stool and toddled over to the sliding door. Cassie helped him pull his boots on before opening the door for him. When he was outside and the door firmly closed, she turned and looked at him. He sipped his coffee, trying to read her expression.

"Can we talk about last night?" he asked, putting his coffee mug down. She crossed to the other side of the island and he took her silence as permission to continue. "I want to apologize," he started. "I overstepped and I'm sorry."

She inhaled slowly and leaned on the bench top.

"I have tremendous respect for you and our friendship and I would never want to jeopardize that," he continued. "I am so sorry I put you in that position."

Her eyes met his and he waited for her to speak. "Its OK, Andrew," she said slowly. "We had been drinking, we've been spending a lot of time together. Its fine, really."

"It didn't seem fine last night," he said softly. "You seemed upset."

Cassie sighed and took off her glasses, leaving them on the bench top. "I wasn't upset," she explained. "Confused and surprised, maybe, but not upset. I wasn't expecting it."

"Trust me, I wasn't expecting to do it," he assured her. He reached up and began tying his hair back. "I just don't want you to think that was me expecting anything from you because you're staying here, like."

"I know. I didn't think that. It was...something else," she replied. He looked at her expectantly over his coffee. "I...haven't kissed anyone since Will."

Andrew wished a hole would open up and the devil would reach up with his gnarled claws and yank him down into Hell himself. Not only had he drunkenly come on to her, he crossed a major milestone off her list for her. He let his head drop to the benchtop in embarrassment. The cool stone felt good against his quickly-forming headache, but that was about all the relief he found.

"Jesus," he muttered. "Cass, I am so sorry." He wasn't sure if his voice was muffled, so he lifted his head, ready to repeat himself.

But she spoke first. "It had to happen eventually," she said softly. "I just wasn't prepared for it. So it came as a shock."

"Now I feel even worse," he mumbled against his hands.

"Andrew, it would have happened eventually," she repeated. "I'm kind of glad it was you. At least I trust you."

A wave of relief washed over him as he looked at her. "Are you sure?" he asked.

"You can't un-ring the bell," she sighed slightly. "Its...its fine. Really. It'll be a funny story to tell one day."

He wasn't sure he believed her, but the words came out of her mouth so he had no other choice. Then she reached out and put a reassuring hand on his forearm.

"Please don't beat yourself up over it," she insisted. "I'm not upset. You don't need to be, either."

Andrew met her gaze and offered a weak smile. "As long as you're sure," he said. "I promise, it won't happen again."

She nodded and turned away from him. "I made waffles."

He blinked in confusion. "I have a waffle maker?" he asked.

"Yes. It was way up in the cabinet. I nearly fell trying to get it down," she explained as she put two thick waffles on a plate and popped it in the microwave.

Her tone changed dramatically and he forced himself to go along with it. "Cass, you don't have to make crazy food. I'm happy with porridge or toast."

"Its not for you," she teased. "Finn asked and I delivered. You just get the left overs."

Andrew nodded as though this was an obvious thing. "Right, of course. How could I forget."

The microwave beeped and she placed the plate in front of him. "I'm gonna go watch Finn. There's more waffles in the oven keeping warm."

He nodded and took the fork she offered as she walked outside. Finn was running in the garden, his curls bouncing wildly. Andrew watched Cassie chase him across the patio and smiled as the peals of his laughter drifted through the door. He ate quickly, checking his phone for messages from friends. With the restrictions lifting soon, everyone was eager to meet up again. Sure, they'd have to keep their distance, but at least he could speak to them face to face.

A small part of him was sad that Cassie was leaving soon. He'd grown accustomed to being around her. He wasn't sure if it was just that she kept him company or that they were friends. But he knew some part of him would be sad to see her go. With things opening up, there was a really small chance they'd ever have the opportunity to spend time together like this again. Life would pick up where it left off and they'd carry on as usual.

He spent the next few hours tending to the beehives on the far end of his property. After the storm the day beforehand, he wanted to make sure nothing was out of sorts with the hives. Three bee stings later, he had readjusted the base of one of the hives and moved another slightly further away. He was halfway through applying ointment to each sting when he got a notification on his phone from the front gate. He sighed.

His mother was right on time.

"Hey, Cass? My mum is here!" he called up the stairs as he headed for the front door. He grabbed a mask off the console table in the entryway and opened the door.

His mother parked on the gravel drive and was out of the driver's seat by the time he exited the house. She walked around the car to the passenger door without realizing he was six feet in front of her.

"Hey, Mum," he called, lifting a hand in greeting. He heard the front door open and footsteps on the gravel walk behind him. He saw Finn's bright red t-shirt out of the corner of his eye. "How are you keeping?" he asked.

His mother emerged from the car with a cake box in one hand and a gift bag in the other. She set the bag on the edge of the driveway and looked over at him.

"I'm grand, Andy. Are you alright?" she asked, adjusting her sunglasses.

"Yes, Mum," he replied. He gestured to Cassie. "Mum, this is Cassie and her son Finn."

Cassie gave a wave. "Hi," she said with a slight chuckle. "Its nice to finally, kind of meet you." She put her hand on top of Finn's curls. "This is Finn."

"Hi!" Finn said cheerfully, waving his hand way out in front of him.

His mother smiled broadly and leaned forward to speak to him. "Hello, Finn. I'm Raine, Andrew's mum. Its nice to meet you." She held up the gift bag. "This is for you."

Finn eagerly took a few steps forward despite Cassie making a noise to try to stop him. He grabbed the toddler by the wrist and stopped him from getting any closer.

"Buddy, we can't go near people who aren't in our houses right now," he explained. "That's my mum, but she doesn't live here. So we can't get too close to her."

Finn looked up at him with Cassie's large eyes and nodded. "Sowee," he said.

"Its OK," Andrew said. "We'll go get the bag in a minute."

"Cassie, this is for both of you," Raine said, holding up the cake box. "Andy said you both liked chocolate cake, so I made one. John and I just wanted to thank you so much for connecting us with Tadgh. He's been so helpful during the lockdowns and its made a world of difference for John."

"Oh, please. Don't mention it. Andrew asked for a recommendation and I happened to have one," Cassie said. "I did very little. You should get Tadgh a cake instead."

"Oh we have," she replied with a bright smile. "How much longer will you be here?"

"The end of next week, then we are headed back to the city," Cassie said. "Back to normal life, such as it is."

"Perhaps we can have you over for dinner or something before you return, if the weather is nice. I'm sure John would like to thank you in person," Raine replied. She set the cake box on the top of the low brick wall.

"That would be lovely," Cassie smiled.

Finn struggled against her hand on his shoulder. "Mama, I want to go," he whined.

It was obvious he was itching to go see what was in the gift bag. Andrew looked to his mother who stepped back knowingly.

"OK. Go get it," Cassie told Finn, letting go.

Finn dashed across the front of the house as fast as his little legs could carry him. He picked up the bag and brought it back over. Cassie knelt down to help him open it. He pulled a small water color paint set from the bag along with paper and brushes. Andrew watched his mom's face light up.

"Thank you so much, Raine! You didn't need to do this," Cassie said. "Finn, what do we say?"

Finn lifted his face and smiled broadly. "Fank you!" he exclaimed.

"We will have to paint a picture for her to show off your art skills," Cassie told Finn.

"Yeah!" he replied happily.

"I'd better be going," Raine said, checking her watch. "I told Dad that I'd be back soon."

"I'll talk to Dad tonight, Mum," Andrew said, giving her a wave as she turned to go to her car.

"Thanks again, Raine," Cassie called, waving as well. "I'm sure we will chat again."

Finn was too distracted to notice the car pulling back down the drive. Andrew watched his mother's car until it was out of sight.

As they were heading back inside, Cassie looked at him and did a double take, reaching over to touch a spot on his neck. He jumped slightly. "What happened?"

"Oh - ehm, bee sting," he explained, holding the door open for her.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Yeah, it'll be fine," he replied, following her inside. "I get them sometimes."

The rest of the day went by quickly. Finn was busy playing with his paint set whilst Cassie prepped dinner. Andrew busied himself with reading. It would have been quite a peaceful afternoon if Finn hadn't tipped his water cup over, sending murky paint water all over the kitchen floor just as Cassie was putting the pasta from the night beforehand into the oven to reheat.

Fortunately, dinner passed in a much quieter manner and was topped off by the cake his mother dropped by. Afterward, Finn and Cassie kicked a football around the back field whilst he cleaned up. He could see the two of them in the distance from the window above the sink. He debated joining them when he was finished, but thought better of it.

His actions last night had bothered him all day. Why did he ever think it was OK to kiss her? What signals had she given him that it was OK? He'd played the evening over and over in his mind, trying to figure out where he'd gone wrong, but he just couldn't see it.

He'd spent the last two weeks, seeing her every day, spending the evenings chatting or watching something on television. She'd always kept things very firmly in the 'friend' camp; hell, she barely even touched him. There was always a respectable distance between them. The only thing he could think of that caused it was that she was woman, living in his house, and feeding him. There was something incredibly basic about those three things, something that touched on the basest of instincts in him.

But even then, he'd been in close proximity with other women for months on end on tour, eaten with them, spent countless late nights talking, shared emotional highs and lows, and he'd never made a move on any of them. Even without the no fraternization clauses, he needed no help keeping those relationships platonic and professional.

In fairness, he hadn't been in the middle of a pandemic with those people, and there was an argument to be made for inhibitions slipping when you thought the end times were near. Still, there was a clear indication that things were on the upswing and life was going to return to normal. So the fear of the end of the world was lessening as well.

Eventually, he gave up and chalked it up to an anomaly. And alcohol. Definitely alcohol.

Something productive must have snapped in his mind because after Finn went to sleep, he holed up in the mews studio. He had no idea how long he was working, but when he finally stopped, his mind refused to shut off. So he went into the kitchen in search of some tea, hoping that would help calm him enough to sleep.

The house was dark and silent as he made his way through it. The only light in the kitchen came from the large windows that overlooked the back garden. He'd never put any blinds or curtains on them because he felt it didn't go with the style of the room. Plus, nobody looked in on the house from that side.

He grabbed a mug from the cabinet and turned to walk over to put the kettle on. His foot caught on something and he nearly went down to the floor. "Holy fuck!" he exclaimed, catching himself on the edge and banging his knee on the lower cabinet. "What the hell?!"

He reached up and groped blindly for the light on the hood vent and flipped it on. A hot golden light illuminated the stove top and reached out into the darkness below it. Golden hair caught his eye and he turned to find Cassie sitting with her back up against the cabinet, staring into the darkness. She didn't say anything.

"Cassie?" he asked, abandoning his mug. "Are you alright?"

He leaned over and nudged her shoulder with his knee. She blinked and looked up at him. He saw tear tracks running down her cheeks. 

"What's wrong? What happened?" 

She refocused her gaze in front of her. Her voice rasped slightly when she spoke. "I - uh - had a nightmare," she said quietly. In the silence, her voice may as well have been a jet engine. She swiped at her nose with the arm of her pajama top and sniffled. 

He was quiet for a moment. "Ehm...do you - do you want to talk about it?" he asked cautiously. She shook her head. "Do you want me to leave you alone?" She stayed silent, staring straight ahead. 

He carried on making his tea, but stopped just short of adding the tea bag. He couldn't just leave her on his kitchen floor like that. He sighed, abandoned the hot water on the bench top and folded himself in half to sit next to her. He had to cross his legs because the island stopped him from stretching them out fully. 

"Cass, I'm not just going to leave you on the floor here," he told her. "Tell me what happened."

She inhaled deeply and waited several seconds before speaking. "I had a nightmare," she said. Her face was in shadow and he couldn't see her expression. "I have this recurring nightmare at least once a week. Its...its the day Will died."

An owl hooted in a tree outside, but otherwise they were surrounded by silence. 

"Its like...its like I replay the day. Every time. Everything I did - from when I woke up to when I - I found him," she continued softly. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "But every time, I'm trying to get there faster. Running red lights. Not paying at the shop. Driving as fast as possible. Nothing ever works." She sniffled. "I'm always too late." 

The audio from the emergency phone calls slammed back into Andrew's brain like a car crash and he winced from the impact.

"I'm always too late," she repeated. "If I hadn't stopped at the shop, or if I had driven faster, or if I hadn't been stuck at so many red lights, I would have gotten to him in time."

"You don't know that," he replied. 

"That's what my therapist says," she sighed. "Yet somehow it doesn't change the way my mind works."

"Cass, if you'd been there...when it - when..." he stammered, looking at the cabinets opposite him. "You could have been hurt, too." 

She sniffled. "Yeah. But at least then we'd be together," she whispered, leaning her head against Andrew's shoulder. "At least then I wouldn't be so alone."