“And modest,” Mam jibed before continuing, “But you’re so much more than a pretty face. You are warm, Aoife. That poor boy never stood a chance with you, did he? Not when everything he’s never been given flows from you like a waterfall.” “No, I’m drama, remember?” I joked, feeling embarrassed. “You’re that, too,” she agreed with a smirk. “But my god, does warmth shine out from beneath that mischievous exterior of yours. It’s infectious.”
