“Who says I didn’t mean it?” protested Thomas. “You look very pretty.”
“I look terrible,” Eileen countered, she raised a hand to her head, her fingers catching in the tangled mop. “My hair is a mess.”
“You look fine,” Thomas felt something deep within coming to the surface. “Even the hair.”
She tilted her head at him. “You’re beginning to sound like you’ve come to court me.”
Thomas laughed without humour, “Not just now.” He pushed the feelings back inside; pushed himself up from the chair and paced the short length of the room. “I don’t think this is a good time for it.”
“Too bad,” said Eileen quietly.
That brought Thomas up short. His heart sped up of its own accord, and he felt suddenly light-headed. “Do you mean that?”
She nodded, not looking at him. “Aye.”
Thomas sank down on t
