The little girl slurped her milkshake. “Grame,” she pronounced. “Wri’er.”I raised an eyebrow at her mother, who was shaking her head. “Aib...ilin, manners.”Slurp. “He goo’.”“Sorry,” Kat said, with a resigned smile, “my daughter doesn’t have much restraint.”“Do! ‘strained!”Kat chuckled. “Oh, yes. Very restrained. Sorry, Graham.”“No need. She’s brightened my day.”“Were you feeling down?” Her expression was odd, and she glanced at the little girl.“A bit. Aibhilin’s right. I’m a writer. At least, I’m. As Andrew sat in his office waiting for the young girl's arrival, he mentally kicked himself for being such a complete and out of control idiot. He blamed the fact at not having been laid since his ex, Meghan, had broken up with him two months earlier. When there was finally a knock at the door, he promised himself to keep everything as professional as possible. She came in and carefully closed the door behind her. He noticed that she no longer had her notepad in her hands, but thought that it. More

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