I smiled, thinking of the crazy little boy that I was still getting to know. “Yes, he’s almost five.”

“But-but-but how?”

“His mother, Eilish, was very young and scared at the time, and I was, well, I think we both know I was in no fit state to become a father, so she kept the pregnancy a secret. Recently, our paths crossed again. I think the whole thing had been weighing on her conscience. Seeing I’d changed, was no longer . . .” I couldn’t finish the sentence with was no longer an arsehole drunk, so instead I said, “I’d cleaned up my act, so she decided to reveal the truth.”

“Oh my goodness, Bryan. That’s just crazy.” She gazed at me with wide eyes, her mouth parted with the shock of it. “How do you feel about it? I mean, how do you feel about him?”

“Do you know what the mad thing is? I feel great. He’s the spitting image of me, and I loved him as soon as I clapped eyes on him. It just feels right that this happened now, you know?”

Mam leveled me with a skeptical frown, as though weighing her words. I had a feeling she wanted to voice her doubts, the same as Sarah had, so I pulled out my phone. Flicking through my pictures, I stopped on a selfie I’d taken with Patrick the other day and shoved it across the table to her.

“This is him. His name’s Patrick.”

Mam picked up the phone, her eyes going wide. There was no mistaking the resemblance, and in a flash I saw her doubts obliterated. Her hand went to her mouth, and her eyes shone.

“He’s gorgeous, Bryan,” she whispered. “And he looks just like you.”

I smiled fondly. “I know.”

She stared at the picture for a long moment, then handed the phone back to me. “When can I meet him?”

I studied her, saw the self-consciousness in her face, the uncertainty. She didn’t think I was going to let her meet Patrick. And the truth was, I wasn’t, not in her current condition anyway.

“You have to get healthy first,” I told her in a gentle but firm voice.

Her lips twisted into a bitter smirk. “So you’re going to use my grandchild against me? You’re going to hold him over my head until I do what you want?”

I resisted rolling my eyes and instead set my jaw. Tough love, Bryan. You need to give her some tough love. “Quit feeling sorry for yourself.”

“You’re just like your father,” she spat, lifting her chin proudly. “Thinking you can control me into doing what you want.”

I lost my temper at that, growling in response. “You know this is what’s best for you. If you won’t quit drinking for you or for me, then do it for your grandson.” I slammed my palm on the table, making her flinch and lower her gaze. “You want to live long enough to see him graduate college, don’t you?”

A tear rolled down her cheek and her lip quivered. “Yes.”

“Then let me help you.” I softened my voice, rubbing my hand over my face. “I’ve got the advantage of having gone through it all myself. I know what’s ahead of you, and I know how to help you succeed, but you have to want it.”

“I’m old.” She shook her head. “It’s not going to be the same for me as it was for you.”

I reached out across the table and took both of her hands in mine. They felt tiny, frail. “You’re not old, Mam. You’re barely fifty-five. Fifty is the new thirty.”

She cracked a half-hearted smile at this, saying nothing.

I squeezed her hands. “We’ll deal with any hurdles as they come.”

She met my eyes, not speaking for a moment, then finally nodded. It was a hesitant nod, one that lacked confidence. I needed to build her up somehow, show her that change was possible. That she could do anything she set her mind to.

And if Patrick was the reason to start cleaning up her act, then so be it.

***

When I arrived home that night, Sarah was sitting on the wall outside my apartment building. I’d just pulled my keys out when I spotted her. Dressed in khaki pants and a brown jacket, she almost blended into the scenery. I let out a breath that was half guilty, half irritated and made my way toward her.

I felt guilty because ever since I told her about Patrick, I’d been avoiding her calls. And I felt irritable because I knew without question the boy was mine and her hounding me to get a paternity test was a hassle I didn’t need.

“Well, at least you don’t look like you’ve been drinking,” she said as she pushed up off the wall, eyeing me up and down.

“Quit looking at me like I’m short. Of course I haven’t been drinking.”

“You’ve been unreachable. Forgive me if I assumed the worst.”

I dragged a hand down my face, feeling tired. After dealing with Mam, I really didn’t need this. “Yeah, sorry about that. I’ve just been busy.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Busy playing daddy to a kid that might not even be yours?”

I folded my arms and met her gaze. “And if I have?”

She blew out a breath. “Bryan, I told you not to rush into this. I told you to get a paternity test. Take your time. Believe me, it might seem unnecessary but it’s one little thing that could save you a lot of heartache down the line.”

“Sarah—”

“No, don’t give me platitudes. I know you better than you think. I’m your friend and I care about you. That means I’m gonna push you to do what’s right for both you and the kid, even if you’ve got your head stuck so far up your own arse you can’t see it.”