Brendan showed up at the door, appearing rather tired. His sharp eyebrows were tightly furrowed and only relaxed ever so slightly at the sight of Deirdre having dinner quietly in the dining room. He walked over and placed the box in his hand on the table.

“Why are you having dinner so late?”

Deirdre ignored the man’s concerning inquiry and kept her head lowered to eat her meal.

Brendan paid no attention to her reaction and opened the box. “It’s a good time, though. Have a taste of the cake