“You know I don’t eat that,” Feely said, dragging me from my thoughts. I peered at the plate in front of him and my stomach growled in appreciation when my eyes took in the sight of a juicy steak. “I’m a vegetarian, Dad.” “You’re a bollocks is what you are,” his father shot back before dumping another massive steak onto my plate. “Now, Hughie, lad, tuck into a feed of prime Irish beef for yourself.” I wanted to. Badly. But I didn’t want to be used as a pawn in Paddy Feely’s attack on his son. Especially on his birthday. “Actually, I’m a vegetarian, too,” I lied, mentally devastated to abandon
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