“He’s my cousin.”
“Sure, the oldest excuse in the book! Who do you think I am? Do I look that gullible?”
Sean lifts his eyebrows and laughs. “Ryan, he really ismy cousin. Ask him yourself if you want.”
I stare at him to see if he’s lying, but I don’t need to study him too hard. The happiness he showed when he saw me, the way he kissed me, and even the way he looks at me now—like I’m a precious object—makes me realize he’s telling the truth. “You don’t look alike,” I say.
The day I let something go without a fight will never come. Never. I think it’s compulsive. 9
“I want you to tell me everything,” Sean says as soon as we step out of the pub.
This is after his beloved cousin James gave me a slap that sent me stumbling forward, saying he was happy to meet me, and calling me “bolshie.” Very funny.