Eventually, I go downstairs. Clodagh is watching yet another crappy reality show... Married at First Sight Australia or something. I slip onto the sofa beside her, resting my head against her shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my finger drawing a pattern on her thigh. She doesn’t say anything for a moment and I worry she’s really pissed off with me before she turns and smiles. She kisses the top of my head and laughs. “You...