“You don’t want to make a regular thing of it?” Tom asked from the driver’s seat as he drove us back to his and Cliff’s house.
“Nah.” Mark shook his head. “I like singing, but I don’t want to make it a permanent part of my life. Besides, I don’t know where I’d be able to sing that sort of thing back home.”
“You could always come back and sing at the George. It isn’t too much of a drive, is it?” Cliff asked.
“It isn’t that far, no,” I admitted.
“Well, perhaps we could do it again in a few weeks,” Mark said. “I’m not all that comfortable about singing in public.”
“If you decide to sing again, you’re very welcome to stay at our place,” Tom told us.
“Thanks.” Mark yawned.
“We’ll bear it in mind,” I said, wrapping an arm around my man and giving him a half hug. Through a yawn of my own
