by Leigh Lennon
He gives me a nod with a tight smile I can’t read, but I won’t get drawn into the Kieran O’Hennessey factor. “I need you to give me a list of five men who will say good things about you. Our first interview will be in your home. We’ll interview in the stadium, too. The weekend before the preseason opener, we’ll do the segment with your parents in Portland.”
He leans forward, waiting for me to finish. When I’m done, I push as far back as my body can get to vacate his personal space.
“First of all, Leela, I’m a changed man. I sense sarcasm in the way you are talking to me, and I get it. I was stupid, and quite honestly, New York put up with my shit for way too long. I almost messed up my career, and playing football is all I’ve ever wanted to do.”
“This is what the fans of Seattle need to hear, so definitely be sure to use that sort of conviction in your interview segments.”
His smile doesn’t falter as he shakes his head. “This isn’t just a story. It’s the honest truth. So, what can I do to convince you since you are the ‘it’ girl of Seattle? If I prove to you that I’ve changed, then I can prove it to all of Washington State.”
“You have a lot to atone for, Mr. O’Hennessey,” I say, pushing my hair from my shoulder, a nervous habit I possess when his eyes lock on my neck. “I’ll make you look good, Kieran, so you don’t have to worry about that. Let’s begin with your background.”
His smile changes again, but his gaze remains on my neck, which is odd. I figured he’d be looking at my tits, which are peeking through a little. He starts to share how the fame went to his head. After explaining how he had access to items he never had before, along with people to clean up for him, he then goes on to discuss how each arrest further thrust him into the limelight.
“You know what they say.” He finally moves his stare from my shoulder and neck to my eyes. “Bad attention is better than no attention.” He gives me a nervous laugh. “But now, I’m fine with no attention. I want my records to speak for themselves, and I had the best year of football I ever have had, almost tying the number of touchdowns with another tight end in the league.”
“I’ll admit it’s actually very impressive. However, if it wasn’t for that holding call against Carolina, you would have been one of the few running backs with both a thousand yards rushing and receiving.”
His shoulders tighten as he sits up straight on his couch. “Aw, you aren’t pulling any punches. Plus, I got to say you know your game.”
“I watched it every Sunday with my father. It was our thing.” Why do I tell him this? I never speak of my personal life.
“And where did you grow up?” he asks, changing the subject.
“Nice try, Kieran. Now, back to the question. How does it feel being so close to that record but falling just short of it? How does this affect your game moving forward?”
“It was my best season. It shows me what I’m capable of when I keep my head down and play the game like I should have done when I started my career over six years ago. And by the way, what the hell do I have to do for you to call me Kier? You sound like my mother when she’s pissed off at me, which, by the way, was quite often when I was in New York.”
I remember Siobhan O’Hennessey and her bright red hair. She has always been as spirited in her Irish ways as my mama still is in her Italian ways.
I’m laughing. He’s not supposed to make me laugh. After all the ways he terrorized me during my eighth-grade year, it took me a very long time to be able to have a casual conversation with the opposite gender.
Standing abruptly, I put a stop to the easiness between us. “Okay, I think this’ll be more than enough for now. The crew will be here soon to give you an overview. But I don’t need to be here for this.” With my fast speech, I’m surprised he can understand me, but when I speed to the door, I’m horrified I let my guard down for a second.
“Wait, Leela,” he calls after me, but I don’t stop. I’m through the exit so fast and to my car. For one second, I viewed him as a real person with real feelings. I won’t make that mistake again.
I let the screen door slam behind me, and though I’ve had several minutes to chastise myself, I’ve stopped for carb overload at Ivar’s since the jackass’s apartment isn’t far from there. Fish and chips and clam chowder—yep, I’m pissed because I only let myself have this particular comfort food when I’m sad or mad.
“Oh, fuck.” Zia peers over the peninsula island as though she’s hiding from me on the other side of the kitchen in our small Montlake house I bought last year. Poppy runs toward me to greet her auntie Leela. “Who pissed you off?”
She should know since Zia knows everything about my life, so I don’t answer her. But I’m curious, and ask, “And what are you doing?” I lean over to pick up the French bulldog, needing comfort from all her cuteness.
“Well, I was starting dinner. I thought you needed something of sustenance since you were meeting with the jackass, but I see you beat me to the punch. Please tell me you got enough food for me.”
I sit down on the other side of the island as she bypasses the wine and goes straight for the vodka. “Ugg, as far as food goes, I think I have enough for a small army.” She pours me Sprite Zero, adds grenadine and two shots of the good stuff, then mixes it all together. She knows what I need and grabs the plates to unpack the food while I down half of my signature Leela drink with Poppy still in my arms.
“Okay, now that you drank half of your adult Shirley Temple, tell me…do I need to find the ass and kick him in the balls?”
“No, but I think you’ll need to kick me in the balls or the boobs or something. I let my guard down. He made me laugh. And it was so fucking easy to let it happen. He was quite charming.”
Sliding the plate to me, she hands me the tartar sauce, chuckling. “See, maybe he’s changed.”
“Yeah, and I’m fucking Miss America. No one changes that much. I need to do my job and get out of there with my dignity intact, and I’ll be fine.”
My sister moves her gaze away from me. “Well, if that’s it, then I look forward to all the Ivar’s meals you’ll be bringing home to get yourself past it.” She’s right. I may have to buy a whole new wardrobe when this is said and done because if I continue to eat like this, I won’t fit into any of my current clothing. It’s just another thing I’ll blame on Kieran. I’ll need a long memo pad at this point to write them all down.
Chapter 5
Kier
She rushes out of my apartment abruptly when I’d been on the cusp of asking her to stay for a working dinner. Something about her speaks to me in a familiar way, making me want to get to know her better. She has a chip on her shoulder, but it seems personal. Ever since she flipped her hair and my eyes focused on the unique birthmark on her neck, my mind has been sifting through all my memories in an attempt to place it.
The cameramen have come and gone within five minutes, and I begin dinner.
I place a steak in my frying pan and snatch my phone to call the one person who knows anything and everything.
“Kieran,” my sister calls out, and it reminds me how Leela calls me by my God-given name, too. “I’m on my way out, so make it quick.”
Molly isn’t home often. She’s a teacher by day, but at night, she lets loose and is always chasing life. It must live in our genes. “Molls, I have a question for you.” I flip my New York Strip because I like it with a slight char on it.
“Go ahead, I’m listening,” she almost sings.
“Does the name Leela Cesarea ring a bell to you?”
Her loud, earsplitting laughter has me pulling my phone from my ear.
“You mean, the Leela Cesarea, the anchor in Seattle? Yeah, I know her.”
“Okay, so you know of her?” I clarify.
“No, dummy, I know her. Like we went to school together with her. And you know her, too, but at the time, she went by Leleeta Grimaldi-Cesarea, and you were a grade A asshole to her.”
When I say it out loud, “Leleeta Cesare
a,” and with the memory of the broken heart birthmark, it hits me. She’s Leleeta, the one girl I’d always teased. Hell, teasing might not be the correct word. I’d been a douche most of my life, so what the hell can I do to show her I’ve changed?
“Hey, so I heard you’ve been looking for me?” Becky asks as she approaches me. I’ve just left her office to no avail. “I mean, you never look for me. You hide from me, so what’s up, O’Hennessey?”
“I need your help. I have to get ahold of Ms. Cesarea. Could I get her number from you?”
She pops her head to the side. Becky isn’t stupid. “Nope, but can I get a message to her for you? She specifically asked for all correspondence to go through me. When she emailed me the information, she couldn’t have been clearer.”
Well, fuck. Becky won’t budge. On to plan B. “Oh, all right. I have a couple more things I want to go over with her. Could you set up an appointment where we can meet in the next couple of days before the interview at my apartment?”
“Is it important?” Becky asks, and this time, she has a little tease in her voice. Becky has never been anything but a stern nun with me. Now, I actually see a little of the real her coming through.
“Yeah, it really is. I mean, I’ll go to her office.” I give Becky my signature megawatt smile. Even though it doesn’t work on her, I know what will. “Okay, Becky, you want me to get it right, correct?”
She throws her hands in the air. “Okay, I’ll send her an email to see if she can meet tomorrow. Have your cell phone on, and I’ll call you. You better not mess this up, O’Hennessey.”
“Sure, no problem, Becky. You can trust I got it.”
Her loud cackle reverberates off the hallway walls. “That’s the problem. Our relationship has never really been based on trust,” she calls back to me.
I don’t reply, making it to the exit and out to the parking lot. As I’m opening my door, my cell phone rings, and it causes me to smirk because it’s Becky. She isn’t playing around but this is a good thing.
“Hello?” My pulse is racing.
“O’Hennessey, you’re in luck. She has a late night at the TV station and can meet with you in an hour. Does that work?”
“Yeah, and thanks, Becky. I appreciate it.”
“Again, Kier, don’t mess this up.” I know I’m in trouble when she calls me Kier and not by my last name.
I tap her shoulder and watch as she visibly flinches. I hate this. I detest the fact that I can’t just tell her how I feel. She moves her head around. “Leave me alone, Kieran. I can’t deal with you today.” She’s always so serious. And I’m such a pussy. I noticed her the first day. She has the thickest glasses, and her hair looks like she’s stuck her finger in a light socket, but there’s something about her that I can’t explain. I take a chance to show her what my true feelings are as I pass her a note. She’s hesitant to take it from me as if it will explode.
I’d been so nervous, and I wasn’t sure how it would go over. I wrote it last night several times and have it memorized by this point.
Dear Leleeta:
I’m sorry. I’ve been mean to you. More than mean. But the truth is, I like you, and I didn’t know how to tell you. Would you go to the eighth-grade dance with me?
Kieran
In the amount of time it takes for me to recite the note in my mind, she hands it back to me. I open it, my fingers sweating, and at the word yes, I smile.
I think about that moment from many years ago and how my intentions at the time had been honorable, and how I wanted nothing more than to pick her up at her house and give her both a bouquet along with a corsage, but I wasn’t the type of guy who could defend her to my friends until I folded like a cheap card table. I was in the popular in-crowd, and Leleeta never would be. Something in her called to me, and I wanted so desperately to get to know her just as I did the day I saw the feisty woman in Becky’s office.
On my way to the news station, I make a little pit stop. This is overdue, way overdue.
Chapter 6
Leela
“Ms. Cesarea?” my assistant on the other end calls through the intercom. “Kier O’Hennessey is on his way up from security. Do you want me to send him straight to your office?”
“Yes, please,” I answer and am surprised he’s requested this last-minute meeting. We’ve covered everything, and honestly, I don’t want to get lost in the ocean blue orbs of this Irish boy.
And if I ever need a reminder as to why I can’t, all I have to do is think about the one time he took my heart and decimated it over twelve years ago.
“Are you crazy?” Zia calls out to me. “You said yes to him after all the times he has humiliated you?”
I wish I had insisted to hold onto the note as proof. You always hear the adage that “If a boy teases you, it’s because he likes you.” I can accept this, especially if the bonus is someone like Kieran O’Hennessey as my possible boyfriend. He’s shown me he’s an ass, but I’ve seen him at basketball games, rooting for his sister, as I root for Zia, and he’s sweet. One night, after a horrible loss, he’d been there to comfort his sister, and I’d never seen a more tender moment.
Could I like Kieran? I think I have from the very beginning—even when he’s teased me endlessly—but I couldn’t believe a guy like Kieran could go for a girl like me.
We’ve spoken a couple of times. He asked me the week before the dance, and he’s been sweet to me, revealing that he has a surprise. He even threatened a couple of his cronies, telling them he’d been wrong about me.
“Just do something with my makeup,” I demand of my sister. Zia’s the queen of makeup. I’ve gone with a simple silver sequined maxi dress, coming right above my ankles. I had insisted on a modest outfit because I’ve never dressed up like this before.
She applies just a little bit of pink shimmer on my eyelids, and a little bit of contrast with my olive Italian features. She steps back with a loud gasp. “You look absolutely gorgeous. I can’t wait to see his face.” She primps at my curls that have been controlled a little with a straight iron.
The doorbell rings, and as I leave my room to greet Kieran at the door, my mom meets me at my bedroom. She doesn’t smile or compliment me when a sad expression crosses her face.
“Honey, I’m so sorry.” She hands me the note and pulls Zia away, giving me time to myself. I situate my body on the bed, opening up the note and my heart breaks in two, like my birthmark.
Dear Leleeta,
Did you really think I’d go to the dance with you? You really are that stupid. Ha, I got you.
—K. O.
I fall back on the bed as my makeup runs down my face. I swear it’s a pain I’ll always carry with me, so I’ll never be this stupid again.
I’m back in my own world in the present when the door opens, and Kieran enters my office with a box in his hand.
“Good evening, Mr. O’Hennessey. I have exactly five minutes. So please get on with it.”
I move my attention to the screen as to half acknowledge the asshole, but when his citrus cologne fills the air, and he slides a chair over to the front of my desk, all I do is act as if I’m ignoring him. But his presence is simply too large to ignore.
He takes in a deep breath, exhaling when his fingers begin to tap on my desk. “I’ve been thinking this whole time that something about you was too familiar.” I stop pretending to ignore him, moving my gaze his way. Dammit, why does he have to look so freaking good? “And dare I say you seemed even homey, something that reminded me of growing up in Portland. There’s been this immediate connection to you that I’ve only experienced one other time in my life. And when you adjusted in the chair the other night and lifted your hair briefly, I saw a birthmark I’ve only seen one other time. And with your insistence of calling me Kieran, it took me a minute, but I finally placed you.”
My gaze drops, and I don’t dare look at him.
It’s not hard to figure out my identity. He’d ridiculed my birthmark so many times that it had m
ade me want to wear my hair down all the time.
“Great, it took you just two times to remember what a grade A ass you were to me for an entire year. So, good for you, Kieran O’Hennessey. Now that you said what you came to say, you can leave.”
I don’t know why I think he’ll honor my wishes of being left alone. “Leela, can you look at me, please? I have an explanation and an apology that’s way overdue.”
Pushing back in from my desk, I finally settle my attention on him. “You think I want an apology after all these years? You loved tormenting me. And you let me think for seven days that I was the kind of girl you could like. That I was good enough for the Kieran O’Hennessey? Well, thanks for preparing me for every jerk out there. I was able to take what I learned from you. You were simply an error in judgment. You gave me the opportunity to ward off a lot more hurt in my life.”
His eyes don’t leave mine. He appears to be waiting patiently for me to say my piece. And he still hasn’t moved.
“Do you want the honest truth from me, Leela?”
I shake my head at him. “I don’t think I’ll get the truth from you. You’re the type of man who loves to spin a tale that will ultimately be beneficial to only yourself.”
I hadn’t known I held these deep-seated emotions from the hell Kieran heaped on me during my eighth-grade year.
“You’re right, you have no reason to believe me, but I swear, it’s the truth.” He gives me a pause to reply to him, and when I don’t, he clears his throat to continue. “I liked you, Leela. You were different. You came to school without a care in the world. You were so secure in yourself, and nothing I said to you ever rattled you. And for that reason, I liked you more.”
“You think you never rattled me?”
