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“When? We’ve been back a month now what are you waiting for? You always said he was—OUCH! SHIT!”
Keefe for the love of everything holy stop talking!
“I look like shit, Keefe! I’m a mess! I’m fat and wearing sweat pants, for Christ’s sake!”
“Liam won’t care!”
“That’s not the point! I haven’t seen him in over a decade!” Dinner plates, one right after the next sailed into Keefe’s body like frisbees.
It was definitely the best decision Keefe ever made to have Liam come to the pub instead of the house. Nothing, not even their precious aunt’s house, would have held back the wrath Sophie was raining down. Although she wasn’t quite so angry as he’d thought she’d be. He’d expected to have his spleen pulled out through his nostrils. So, really, this was actually going well.
And then she went for the pot of hot coffee.
Then again perhaps she was exactly as angry as he’d expected.
“Sophie! Don’t you dare throw that or I swear to God—” Keefe jumped up onto the counter.
“Hold still you traitorous coward!”
“I’m not suggesting you bang his brains out or anything! He was your best friend! If you don’t want to date him fine but I just thought?—”
“I know what you thought! Shit!” Another coffee cup then another and another went sailing through the air, the last striking Keefe on the side of the head.
“I don’t care if you become the whore of Babylon! So long as you're happy! You haven’t been happy since I don’t know when! You don’t talk to anyone! You don’t go anywhere! You’re pathetic! When’s the last time you had your hair cut? Went out for a walk? You’re giving up Soph and, as your brother, I can’t let that happen!”
Sophie with her arm high in the air ready to launch hot coffee froze and went dead silent.
Then she blinked a few times. She didn’t bother arguing. There was no point seeing as everything he’d said was more than true.
Keefe remained on top of the counter. This didn’t mean she was through.
It was quiet.
Too quiet.
Liam carefully approached the kitchen and slowly pushed open the swinging door. He didn’t peek his head in though—he was crazy, not stupid after all, and Sophie was rabid-mad!—he simply called out through the crack. “Hey guys, could I have a cup of coffee?”
Sophie, who was still holding the hot coffeepot in her hand, ready to hurl it at her brother’s stupid, ugly face, lowered her arm and her voice. “Come on in. I’ll pour you a cup.” Liam cautiously entered the war zone. “Liam, could you examine my brother’s head? There’s been something wrong with him since birth.” She looked around the floor at all the broken mugs and wondered if there was even a cup left to pour coffee into.
Keefe who was standing on top of the counter jumped down and hugged his friend.
“Just like old times,” Liam teased. Keefe smoothed back his hair and winced then exhaled. She’d knobbed him all right, what with Liam didn’t know there were too many broken pieces of crockery on the floor. “Some things never change.”
“Do you still take your coffee black?” Sophie asked from over her shoulder.
“Milk too, if you have it.”
Sophie poured milk into his coffee then crossed the kitchen floor avoiding the broken pieces of, was that a bagel?, scattered everywhere.
“Thanks.” Liam took a sip and waited a beat before speaking again, allowing the tension to cool off. “So, this is your pub? It’s got great bones. You two will have this old place looking top notch before long.” He casually leaned back against the counter and sipped his coffee but in a moment removed a piece of shattered ceramic from between his lips. He snorted then dropped the piece back into his cup and placed the cup down.
Sophie grunted a laugh and shook her head. Only Liam would be so calm in this situation.
On the back of a groan Keefe asked, “Have we got any ice?”
Sophie looked at her brother and in the driest of tones said, “Nope.”
He’d been smart enough to hide the knives but had he made any ice? “In that case, Liam how about a tour?”
