by Leigh Lennon
I even text Marcel, but I know there’s less of a chance of me borrowing his Aston Martin than taking his firstborn child. Pulling out my phone, I grit my teeth as I call the one person I don’t want to be in a tight space with for hours.
The phone picks up on the first ring. “Go for O’Hennessey.”
Even his greeting is arrogant. “Kieran, it’s Leela Cesarea.”
His low chuckle radiates through my end and does something unexpected to my stomach. “Leela, I know who you are. You don’t have to use your last name every time.”
“You didn’t know who I was at first, and since it was your goal to make an entire year of my life a living hell, I figured I’d help, just in case you forgot again.” I’m not one to be on the defense, not like this, and I certainly don’t want to pick a fight with him.
“You’re spirited, Leela, I’ll give you that. Plus, you did sort of change your whole entire name, so there’s that, too. But now that I know it’s you, I’m happy to hear from you. I thought you’d be halfway to Portland by now.”
“Yeah, I have a little issue. I have a flat tire. I’m not able to get it patched tonight. And I can’t get a new tire until tomorrow.”
There’s silence on the end. “Oh, too bad. Sorry to hear about your bad fortune.” I’m not sure if he’s mocking me.
“You’re going to make me actually say it, aren’t you?”
“Not sure what I can do for you. You’ve made your position pretty clear.” There’s a flicker of excitement in his tone.
“Have you left yet? I can ride back with the film crew on Sunday. But…” I hate this so much.
“So, what you’re telling me, Leela, is you need my help. And it just so happens that I owe you for all the times I was an asshole to you, so maybe…”
“Oh, don’t say that. It doesn’t remotely make us even, Kieran. And believe me, I tried rentals, I tried my sister, my boss’s car, and a station van. You really are my last hope. Believe me when I say, you know I’m up a creek without a fucking paddle when I ask you for help.”
“Wow, sweetheart, you really know how to make a person feel when they’re needed, don’t you?”
“I just need you to know—”
He cuts me off. “Okay, sweetheart, I get it. Are you at the news station? I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
“Yeah, that’s great. And do not ever call me sweetheart again, Kieran O’Hennessey.”
His chuckle makes my stomach flip-flop. “No problem…sweetheart.” He ends the call, and I’m pissed as hell over this change. And every time I’m with Kieran, I’m that fourteen-year-old who has just been asked out by her crush. I want to forgive him, but when I do, there’s this memory of him leaving me all dressed up with nowhere to go.
I must look like a vagrant with my luggage on the sidewalk as I wait for Kier. The universe is working against me, telling me it wants me to spend the next several hours with him. The man talks a good talk and walks that good walk, but I know better. He wasn’t just mean to me; he was mean to several others. On the bus, he’d pick on this boy with a speech impediment. Monty was his name. I used to sit with him because with the Kieran factor, Monty was blackballed just like me.
I’m expecting to be squished in some sort of sports car. It’s seems like something he’d drive, so I’m pleasantly surprised when a Tahoe pulls up next to me. The window rolls down, and Kier’s megawatt smile catches my attention.
“I hear there’s a lady who needs rescuing.”
I’m not in the mood for his cocky behavior today. Before I’m able to get a quick reply off my tongue, he has his hazards on and is out, loading my shit into the back of his SUV.
“Cat got your tongue, my destitute reporter?”
I grumble to myself, pulling my pissed-off body into his vehicle. He joins me back in the car, and as he puts it in drive, I hold on for dear life when he guns it.
“I’m not a damsel in distress. I hope you know that.”
“Oh, sweetheart, I certainly do.”
I straighten up in my seat as far as I can get. “And stop calling me sweetheart because if we are coming up with names, I have one I can use, too.”
He turns his head, weaving in and out of traffic, and I cling to the armrest as my one salvation against a car accident I think we’ll have before we get on I-5.
“Sticks and stones, sweetheart. Sticks and stones.”
“All right, there, your bad boy persona won’t work with me. It hasn’t since…” I trail off. I’m not getting into it with him. What has been so close to falling from my lips, even meant as contempt, would only open Pandora’s box.
“You know, that is one reason I’ve always liked you. You don’t beat around the bush. You tell it like it is.”
A frown appears on my face. I can feel my mouth downturn, and my temper rise by the minute. But looking at his smile, I know my anger only fuels his fire toward me. The frown disperses, and when he grins, I can’t help but smile at him.
“You know, I tell it as it is because if I were to act on my emotions, especially now, just let me say, I wouldn’t look good in black and white stripes or an orange jumpsuit.”
Kieran’s smile brightens. “You’re fun with banter. This drive has just gotten a lot more interesting.”
“You think I’m kidding?” My voice dips, and I can’t discern my own tone.
“I think you’re sarcastic,” he retorts.
“Hell, you have no idea how sarcastic I can be. Even I don’t know when I’m kidding or not.”
Our banter continues for a good two hours down the road until we take an exit and turn into a Denny’s. My head rotates to the sign and back to him.
“You’ve got to be kidding me?” I ask. He opens up the console between us, putting on a pair of what looks like reading glasses and a ball cap, pulled low on his head.
“What? Who doesn’t love Denny’s? I mean, it has literally everything.”
The sparkle in his ocean blues, I’ve gotten lost in since I’ve been fourteen, combined with the lopsided smirk have me almost forgetting he’s taken me to Denny’s. “You realize that you’re using literally—literally in the wrong way.”
“Ah, let me guess, an English major. You’ll probably correct me for using good and well wrong, too.”
How does he do this, making me forget every vile thing he’s done in the past? I become quiet as common sense showers down on me.
We’re still in his vehicle, and I turn my attention to the outside as I open the door and then make my way to the front of the building.
“Sweetheart.” He’s rushing past me to open the door. “What did I say? We were getting along.” He holds my arm just long enough where I stop to watch confusion covering his face.
The hostess approaches us, and it’s then that I observe how he moves his head and doesn’t make contact to stop unwanted attention. Plus, he’s not too popular still.
The waitress stops, looking at him, then at me. “Holy shit, you are Leela Cesarea, the famous news anchor in Seattle. I adore you and the work you do.”
I bite the side of my cheek and flash her a tight smile, lowering my voice. “I am, and thanks so much for the compliment. But I’d really love to enjoy a quiet dinner if you don’t mind.”
A pinkish-red flush creeps across her cheeks. “Oh, sure, no problem. You and your boyfriend deserve a nice night out.”
“Um…” It’s on the tip of my tongue to correct her. Kieran’s large arm brings me in close to his side.
“Just go with it, sweetheart.” He leans in close to my ear, and the reverberations of his breath on my skin cause goose bumps to pebble up my arms.
The waitress seats us in the corner away from other guests, and Kier pulls the chair out for me.
“Chivalry is not dead, after all. You’ve got a keeper in him, sugar,” the waitress observes.
He takes his seat across from me, leaning over the table as she leaves. “Yeah, sugar, you’ve got a keeper in me.”
My li
ps automatically descend into a frown, and I’m quiet as I look at the menu.
“Leela?” he calls, and I don’t know if I purposely ignore him or my thoughts are on the way his voice sets off my body like no one I’ve ever known. “Leela.” His voice is more commanding, and I find myself instantly obeying it this time as he penetrates my thoughts.
“Um, yep?” I answer.
His lips thin, and their beautiful poutiness is gone. His eyebrows angle down, matching the almost frown on his lips.
“We were having fun back there—in the car. We were cutting up. Every time you laugh or can let yourself go with me, barriers are broken down between us.”
I abruptly push my chair back, throwing down my napkin. “And do you blame me? It takes a little bit more than your megawatt smile that can brighten a dark room and a few funny comments.”
I turn around and see a couple of waiters watching me. “Get me the moons over my hammy. I’ll be back.”
I pass through the empty part of the restaurant where we’d been given space and push through the bathroom door. I stop in front of the mirror, a few tears lurking on the edge of spilling over. That son of a bitch. I’ve spent too many nights crying for him. And he what, thinks in a couple of weeks—I can forgive.
The problem is, I want to forgive him. I’m not a forgiving person. Both Zia and I call people who are too forgiving bleeding hearts. She’d laugh at me if she understood how being back in his presence has rejuvenated me.
I splash some water on my face, most of my makeup had faded earlier in the day when I’d been in the hot parking garage attempting to solve my transportation issue. With most of it gone, and my eyes feeling a little puffy, I pull out my contacts, returning them to the case I carry if my eyes need a break, and put on my glasses.
He’s already seen that blasted birthmark, which had given me away, and I pull my wavy hair back into a loose ponytail.
Making my way out to the table, I haven’t realized I’ve been gone as long as I had. My sandwich is waiting in front of my spot along with a strawberry shake. “How could you have known?” I ask, pointing to the creamy shake.
I begin to drink it before I pick up my sandwich. “We’ve already established I liked you, like really liked you. I would like to think if I’d not been so fucking self-involved over the past five years, I would have found you somehow with all the fucking social media that surrounds us. I still like you. I watched you when you didn’t think I was. Fuck, Leela, I’ve gone about this backward. And I know it takes more than a simple I’m sorry. But...”
I wave my hand. “I switched schools because of you. Because. Of. You. Do you not get that?”
His eyes soften, and I could get lost in the ocean of his blues yet again. “I do now. I mean, I always knew you were around, but not seeing you at school—you’re Italian Catholics. I just thought your mom wanted you to go to Catholic school.”
“Nope, I didn’t want to. But I did because I had to escape you.”
I continue to enjoy my milkshake, waving for the waitress. “Can you bring me a to-go container for my food, and can I get another milkshake to go?”
“Sure thing, sugar.”
I push my food away from me. I’m not hungry, though, I’ll drink my calories.
Chapter 9
Kier
We’re back in my Tahoe, and she’s been silent, slurping at her second strawberry shake. Some country song I’m not familiar with plays in the background. She’s singing low with her knees tucked up to her chest.
And honestly, maybe I’m barking up the wrong tree. I’m still on probation, and girl issues will only complicate my game. And my game is the only thing that matters, but then my gaze falls on the woman next to me, and I know she’s worth the work.
“Leela, I was an ass. But I was a kid with a major crush and didn’t know how to act on it. It was the same reason I went crazy in New York.”
She continues to stare out the window. “It was silver.” Her voice is barely audible, but I hear what she’s just said.
I sit in silence, wondering if she’ll give me more to go on. “The dress, it was silver. And because I’m short, I wanted it to go to my knees, but it almost hit the floor. My sister did my makeup, and my nona came over to take pictures. Zia wanted me to wear heels, but I thought I’d trip in them. At the time, I never wore heels, like I do now.”
My heart sinks. My cruelness has been an instrument of precaution for her entire life. It’s odd to think how something could have impacted her world as much as it had, but the idea of the girl I couldn’t talk to stayed with me, so I shouldn’t be surprised.
“I know you wore a silver dress, and your hair was straightened, not entirely but it certainly framed your face.” If I’m going to admit to the ass I’d been even at a young age, I might as well admit to it all.
She swings her body to mine. “How did you know?”
I stare straight ahead, my eyes on the road. “I wanted to see you. And because I was a pussy and wouldn’t stand up to my friends, I snuck around to the back of your yard and looked in your room.”
I roll my watchful eyes over to her as her stare stays on me with my confession.
“I’m not sure if I should be a little skeeved out by your stalking, or touched you cared enough to check on me, or just call bullshit to it all.”
This girl is so damn mouthy, but she never ducked and ran when we were kids, so why change now?
“I’m sincere, and I understand it’s totally stalkerish, but I had to see you.”
She moves her body away from me, returning her stare to the scenery on the outside.
“I don’t know how to get past the hurt, Kieran. It really impacted the person I am today. Not only that—but it took me a long time to trust. To date. I didn’t start dating until my sophomore year in college.”
This should make me feel sad for her. She should have experienced everything. She’s worth it all, but a part of me likes that she didn’t date a lot. Again, this shows I’m a selfish asshole.
“Are you dating someone now?” I ask, and the strain in my voice is present, and this awards me with a laugh.
“If I were dating someone, do you think he’d be secure enough with me driving down with the number one draft pick from six years ago, who happens to be an attractive athlete? I’m not sure that man exists, Kieran.”
“So, you think I’m attractive?” I ask.
“Oh, hell, Kieran, you don’t need me to stroke your ego. You know girls fall at your feet and other body parts, for that matter. So, don’t tell me you don’t know you’re attractive.”
I begin to snicker at her sentence, and the change in her tone is playful again, and I start, “My opinion is not in question, sweetheart. Yours is, and I very much value your opinion.”
“You know what they say,” she replies when I pull onto her street. “Some spread happiness wherever they go, but others spread it when they leave. Glad to be leaving you right now. I need some happiness in the here and now.”
“You wound me, sweetheart,” I reply when my eyes meet the smirk on her face.
I park the car and begin to unbuckle to help her with her baggage. “Don’t worry about helping me. I got it. But I tell you what, you continue to call me sweetheart, and I’ll really wound you.”
She’s out of the car and has her bags in her hands before I come up with a witty reply. But in her retreat, I watch her fine ass. And that’s a reward, in and of itself.
I open the door to my house, and my mom comes charging at me in her apron. My mother with the Irish in her—she feels it’s her duty to cook everything from scratch.
“Oh, honey, you made it in time for dinner.” I don’t dare tell her we stopped on the way here to eat. Her reaction to my dinner choice would be the same as Leela’s. I peek over her small frame at my father sitting in front of the screen watching an ESPN show. He gives me a wave.
“Welcome, Son.” This is about as much of a welcome as I’ll get from my old man, but if I m
ess up this last chance I have in Seattle, he’ll kick my ass from here to kingdom come. Molly rounds the corner in a black dress as though she’s going out on the town. Knowing my sister, she most likely is. My mother has somehow convinced Molly to live at home for the first couple of years of teaching in order to save for a house.
“So, I hear you had company on your way?” Molly’s red ringlets frame the freckles on her face. “And she didn’t kill you.”
“Are you still in touch with Zia?” I ask, and my mother’s hands are on her hips, requiring more information.
“After your reunion with Leela, I found Zia on social media. If you mess with her sister, she’ll most likely kick you in the nuts again.” This causes both my dad and me to groan. Mom pulls me into the kitchen, setting me at the eat-in table and giving me a Coke. I don’t drink much pop during the season, but I make an exception for tonight. I lay out how Leela’s car had a flat, an unfixable flat, and she tried everything within her power to do anything but ride with me.
“It sounds like fate, Son,” my mother replies. She sets corned beef, cabbage, and potatoes in front of me. My dad, at my mother’s urgings, comes and joins us at the table. After we clean up, my sister excuses herself, and she’s off for a night of partying. I, on the other hand, retreat to my bedroom and open my phone. I have Leela’s number now, and I plan to use it.
Me: I know you didn’t have a choice in the matter, but I loved having you as company on the ride down. It made the drive super easy.
Right away, it’s marked as read. I wonder if she’ll keep me on it, but as the three dots show underneath my original text, my heart seizes at what she may say. Knowing her, it’ll be something smart-ass, making me laugh. I program her into my phone, so I have it from now on.Sweetheart: You’re welcome, and by the way, I guess you aren’t so bad, but don’t let that add to your ego. It’s already too big for the two of us to cohabitate on the same planet together.
