Page 20 of Tribute Act

“Rosie stays on the waiting list,” I said. “And we wait to see if a donor comes up. It could happen.”

He nodded, tight-lipped.

“Fingers crossed you’ll be a match though,” I added.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “Fingers crossed.”

We stayed for Andy’s short set—he played four songs, only one of which I recognised, an early Bob Dylan hit. He was a good guitarist but an indifferent singer, and I pretty much zoned out while he was playing. Mack listened attentively though.

A couple of times, Mack reached for his pint, only to remember his decision not to drink it and withdraw his hand. After a bit, I got up, taking the pint away, replacing it with a Coke. Mack blinked at me when I set the fresh drink down.

“Thanks.” He sounded surprised.

Our drinks were long finished by the time Andy started packing up.

“Do you want another?” I asked, gesturing at Mack’s empty glass.

He yawned. “Nah, I think I’ll head back to the B&B now.”

I was tired myself, but still, I felt oddly disappointed at the thought of the night coming to an end, though I hid my thoughts behind an easy smile, reaching for my jacket.

“Actually, can you wait a sec?” Mack said quickly. “I’ll only be a minute.”

I subsided back into my chair. “Sure.”

He darted off to the stage area, where Ponytail Andy greeted him with a friendly smile. They spoke for a couple of minutes—Mack giving the guy some kind of compliment, judging by the pleased grin on the other man’s face—before Mack strolled back to me.

“Ready now?” I asked when he got back to the table.

“Yeah, sorry,” he said. “I just wanted to tell him how much I liked the arrangement he did on that last song.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that. He’d probably made the guy’s week.

Outside the pub, it was surprisingly chilly. A fresh, cold breeze had started blowing in off the sea. Mack paused on the pub steps to zip up his jacket.

“Where do you live, then?” he asked once we’d headed off.

“Not far from your B&B,” I said. “My flat’s pretty close to the seafront.”

After we’d walked a bit further, he said, “It’s a nice little town. Cute. Bloody quiet, though.”

“It can be,” I agreed. “Especially in winter.”

“Do you ever miss London?”

“Sometimes,” I admitted. “Mostly when I want to do something like go clubbing, like last night. I’ve got to go all the way to Plymouth now for that, and it’s a bit of a drive, though I can at least stay with Gav, my mate.”

“Yeah,” Mack said. “Look, about last night . . .”

My heart started pounding with anticipation. “Yeah?”

He sighed. “You’re not going to, you know, say anything?”

The wave of disappointment that swamped me was as surprising as it was ridiculous. What had I expected? To be invited up to his chintzy B&B bedroom for more amazing sex while his landlady listened outside the door? He was obviously only raising the subject to make sure there was no danger of me blabbing about what had happened between us to Mum and Derek.

I pasted a smile on my face, though it felt awkward as hell. “Course not. It’s just between us.”

He nodded, gaze averted. Said softly, “Thanks.”