Thinking about it now felt hollow and pointless.
“You’re thinking about Megan, aren’t you? And if all this is real?”
“Yeah. How did you know?”
“Aside from the fact that it’s written all over your face? I’ve seen the effect she’s had on you, Kian. You’ve changed since you met her.”
“Yeah, because of the nipper. Because I want to be a good dad.”
“It’s more than that. All your energy and passion seems focused into her. I’ve never seen a woman hold your attention like she does.”
“It doesn’t matter. I can’t go there.”
“Why not? Emilia’s certain Megan has feelings for you.”
“She does. She told me as I was coming round in hospital.”
Davi’s eyes lightened and he smiled. “She’s good for you.”
I raked my hand through my hair and clenched my jaw. “Too good. That’s the problem. I don’t deserve her. I’m only just starting to believe I’ll manage to pull off being a decent father, but there’s no way I can commit to a serious relationship. I’ll only end up screwing it up, and then she and the nipper will hate me.”
“Kian, you’re being too hard on yourself. You’ve changed so much since you met her.”
“Ha, that’s what Marie said, too.”
“She’s right. Have you spoken to Ollie about this?”
I shrugged. “Nah. Not yet. I’m still trying to work through the Matthews shit, and what happened in our fight.”
“Fair enough, but when you have, I’d talk to him about Megan. You owe it to both of you, and your little girl, to at least give it a shot.”
“Yeah, I’ll think about it.” I wiped my hands on my jeans then pulled out my phone. More missed calls; mostly from numbers I didn’t recognize but assumed to be reporters. “I better head home. These reporters aren’t giving up.”
“Okay. Call me if you need anything.”
“Cheers. Will do. And I’ll be in touch about your offer.”
I quickly made my way to my car and drove home. I was glad there were no reporters hanging around when I got back, and hoped the story the reporter from earlier sent out would be enough to get them off my case.
Once inside, I pulled out my phone, and brought up the website the reporter was from. My exclusive was top of the gossip section. I quickly scanned the article to make sure he’d included everything, and was glad to find he’d left out anything about Ruby.
Closing my web browser, I opened up social media, and did something I hadn’t done in a while. I searched the ‘Kian Murphy’ tag.
When I’d first started fighting, I’d been sort of obsessed with what people were saying about me, and used to stalk the net looking for comments from people who’d watched my fights, or women who wanted to fuck me.
The thought of getting into all that shit again made a dull ache settle in my chest, and I was about to switch off my phone and jump in the shower, when something caught my eye.
[MegG: “@KMIsGod @SocialBoss1997 You don’t know what you’re talking about. Fuck off, yeah?” 6mins ago…]
I couldn’t help myself and clicked on the comment, opening up the entire thread of a conversation.
I read from the top.
[KMIsGod: “@SocialBoss1997 You obviously never fucked him or you’d know that man is a god. She’s a lucky bitch to have snared him LOL!” 11mins ago…]
[SocialBoss1997: “@KMIsGod We got a lucky escape, more like. @KMurphy might be hot as hell, but he’s a proper psycho!” 9mins ago…]
[KMIsGod: “@SocialBoss1997 Right?!!! I actually feel sorry for @MegG, being stuck with him for the rest of her life!” 7mins ago…]
[MegG: “@KMIsGod @SocialBoss1997 You don’t know what you’re talking about. Fuck off, yeah?” 6mins ago…]
[KMIsGod: “@MegG @SocialBoss1997 Soz LOL! Don’t send your pet psycho after me! ;)” 5mins ago…]
[MegG: “@KMIsGod @SocialBoss1997 None of you have a clue what you’re talking about. You don’t know him. He’s going to be a fantastic dad to our baby. Saying you had a lucky escape and I’m stuck with him? DO ONE! Kian is a kind, caring, hilarious guy. You were just too shallow to see past the MMA ‘celeb.’” 4mins ago…]
A flash of adrenaline ripped through my body.
I re-read Megan’s comment. My chest swelled as all the tension left my body.
The fuck was the last time someone talked about me like that; as a person?
Grinning, I screencapped Meg’s message, then turned off my phone. My mind replayed what she’d said, along with my earlier realisation that I thought about her along with my family. Then I remembered Davi’s words about Meg and me owing it to each other to give our relationship a chance.
Could I go there?
I didn’t believe I could be with her without screwing it up. But the tiny sliver of hope that I might not, the small chance that maybe I was good enough for her, made me question everything.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“God fucking damn it!” I threw the newspaper and pen I’d been using to search for jobs across the room, and banged my head against the desk.
Nothing.
I’d been searching the classified ads and online job listing sites for the last two hours, and there was nothing suitable. The days until my time at the café was over were slowly ticking away, and graduation was inching ever closer. My current savings totalled less than £1000.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. I wanted to curl up in bed, watch movies, and not deal with the world. But I knew I couldn’t. I was going to be a mum soon; it was time to start acting like an adult.
I was crossing the room to retrieve the newspaper when the doorbell rang. This better be someone with chocolate. I was still in my pyjamas, with my hair a mess.
Throwing on my dressing gown, I padded down the hall and opened the front door, ready to murder whoever was standing on the other side.
All my anger melted away when I saw Kian. Even better than chocolate.
“Hey,” he said, offering me a crooked grin. “Everything okay?”
I sighed and leaned up against the door. “How long have you got?”
“How long do you need?”
“Come in for a cuppa and I’ll tell you all about it.”
I walked down the hallway towards the kitchen, Kian following behind me after he’d closed the front door.
“Okay, what’s up?” he asked, pulling the milk out of the fridge as I switched on the kettle.
“I told you the café is letting me go, right?”
“Yeah, you mentioned something on the phone the other night.”
“Right. And I graduate soon, so I figure I better start looking for something else. I still have four months until Ella is born, but there’s nothing. It’s so frustrating. I spent all this time and money getting a degree, and I can’t even keep a job in a café.”
“I can help you out until you find something.”
“I appreciate it, but there’s no way I’m going to let you do that. Sure it’d be great, but, you know I’m too proud to let the father of my baby bail me out. Plus, it’d be a bit 1950s, wouldn’t it?”
I handed Kian his tea and we made our way through to the living room where we both dropped down onto the sofa.
“You’re not asking, I’m offering.”
“I know, and I appreciate it, but I can’t take your money. Besides, it isn’t just about money. I want to do something with my life.”
“You are. You’ll be bringing our beautiful little girl into the world soon.” Kian shuffled closer and rested his hand on my belly.
“Yeah, and that’s great. But I’m more than just a mum, you know?”
“I never said you weren’t. Remember what you said to me about fighting, and that I should take some time away? It’s really helped, so maybe you should do the same. Take some time out to focus on Ella.”
“But she’s not even here yet, and honestly, if I sit around this flat watching daytime TV for much
longer, I’m going to go fucking insane and kill someone.”
Kian laughed. “Remind me never to piss you off.”
“I’m serious. I miss working. I miss creating things.”
“All right, how about if I help? If two of us are tackling it, we can cover more ground. I could print off your CV and drop them around the city or something?”
A smile crept over my lips. “Thank you.”
“I haven’t even done anything yet.”
“I know, but you listening and offering to help really means a lot. Maybe you’re right, and if both of us work on it, we’ll find something.”
“That’s my girl. Stay positive.”
My breath caught in my throat, and I shuffled back.
“Okay, tea break over. Let’s get to it.”
I printed CVs while Kian browsed the newspaper, circling anything he thought might be suitable.
“Kian Murphy, I am not getting a job as fast food mascot.”
“Why not? You’d look cute in one of those little hot dog outfits.”
“Oh, no. Don’t go trying to butter me up because your idea is ridiculous.”
“Fine. I should probably cross off the one for ‘children’s party entertainer’ too.”
“Yes. I am not getting a job that involves me dressing up in any sort of costume!”
When all the printouts were ready, I looked up some employment sites I hadn’t checked yet, and Kian left to give my CVs out.
“I’ll pick up something for lunch,” he said, as I saw him out.
“Oh my God. I could kiss you! I’m starving.”
Alone once more, my thoughts drifted to our conversation, instead of the task I should have been focusing on.
“That’s my girl. Stay positive.”
The words swirled around in my brain as I tried to recall a time he’d called me anything apart from Megan or Meg. Even on the night we’d slept together, there’d been no ‘darlin’’ or ‘babe’ after we’d introduced ourselves.
My pulse raced, making my chest feel light.
No, Megan, I told myself, turning back to the computer screen. This doesn’t mean anything.
But I couldn’t stop the fluttering in my belly. It had to mean something.
I argued with myself for a minute before focusing my full attention on my job search. Determined to find something, anything, even if it was only for a few months, I widened the radius I was willing to travel for a job, and broadened the criteria for work I was willing to take then continued looking.
I’d applied for two waitressing jobs, one design job, a couple of cleaning positions, and even a hotel receptionist job, when the doorbell rang.
Expecting it to be Kian, I leapt up, and smoothed down my hair, then put some tinted lip balm on before answering.
When I opened the door, he was standing on the other side, grinning, and holding two shopping bags.
“What’s all this?” I asked, moving aside so he could come in.
“I figured instead of just grabbing some takeout, I’d cook for you. You need a pick me up, and I know just the thing,” he said, following me down the hall. “And don’t worry, there’s not a sausage and egg bap in sight. I remember how sick they made you last time.”
My skin tingled. I could hardly believe Kian was cooking for me, let alone that he’d remembered something so inconsequential.
He set the bags down on the countertop. “Okay, do you have a frying pan or a wok?”
“Erm, yeah. Gimme a sec.”
As Kian unpacked the groceries, I rummaged in the cupboard for the wok my parents had bought me when I moved out of their house and got my first place.
“Here you go.” I handed it to Kian, who put it on the hob, and poured in some oil.
“There’s a pack of egg noodles there. Can you put three sheets on to boil, while I take care of the veggies?”
“Sure.” I switched on the kettle then got out a large saucepan, as Kian threw sliced peppers, mushrooms, onions, and sugar snap peas into the wok, then added fresh garlic, ginger, a little chilli and some Chinese seasoning.
Once the noodles were cooked, he tossed them in with the vegetables, and added a liberal dash of soy sauce, before serving up two plates of steaming vegetable stir-fry.
“Bon appetit.” Kian handed me a fork and I tucked straight in.
“Oh. My. God. This is so good.”
“What can I say? I’m the master.” He grinned at me. “Seriously, though, it’s just noodles and some veggies.”
“Pfft. Just noodles and some veggies? This is better than the takeout. You learnt all this from your mum?”
“I learnt the basics from her, and Marie cooks a lot too. Plus, when I’m training, I have to make sure I’m eating right, and not always buying takeout.”
“With food like this, you’d never need to order in again.”
Kian laughed and shook his head. “Seriously, anyone can do it. It took me, what, ten minutes? You just toss some stuff in the wok, boil noodles, and add flavours.”
“Oh, yeah. So easy.” I rolled my eyes. Even though I worked in a café, I didn’t know much in the way of cooking, especially anything that wasn’t traditional British fare. “You’ll have to teach me.”
“I will. And you’ve still gotta have a spin in the car before I sell it.”
“With all the stuff last week, I’d forgotten about that.”
“Wanna head out after lunch? We could get away for a bit, go for a drive or something.”
My fork stilled halfway to my mouth, and I stared at Kian. He wasn’t looking though, and I quickly suppressed the butterflies threatening to dance the conga in my tummy.
I had to stop reading into every little thing he said or I’d drive myself insane.
“Sure. A few hours not looking for jobs or thinking about responsibilities sounds good.”
We continued eating in silence, and the delicious food helped distract me from my racing thoughts.
Pregnancy hormones, mixed with my own feelings for Kian, and his change in attitude since the fight were messing with my head. I had to keep reminding myself he’d said he couldn’t do relationships … but what the hell was this? We were having a baby together, hanging out, and talking on the phone almost every night. We were practically a couple, only without the physical side of things.
Staring at Kian, sitting across the breakfast bar from me, wiping his lips on a sheet of kitchen roll, I wondered what would happen if I leant across the table and kissed him.
I let the fantasy play out in my head, remembering the feel of his mouth crushed against mine on our one night together. My pulse quickened. His stubble had grown out a little since getting out of hospital, and although he didn’t have a full on beard yet, it was coarser. I imagined the feel of it brushing against my skin as he kissed me.
I shook the image from my mind. Me making a move was so not what Kian needed right now. He was finally getting his shit together, and him thinking I was like all those girls online, who only wanted him because he was famous, would ruin the friendship we’d built.
Eager for a distraction, I scooped up our plates, and took them to the sink to wash the lunch things.
“Want a hand?” Kian asked, coming up behind me and grabbing a tea towel off the rail.
“Sure.” I passed him the plate I’d just washed, and our hands brushed. A jolt of electricity shot down my arm, and I plunged my hands back into the soapy water.
There was no way I could spend the rest of the afternoon with him. I’d either do something stupid like try to kiss him, or make myself crazy by analysing every little thing. I needed space.
Faking a yawn, I stretched my arms then said. “Can we take a rain check on the drive? I’m feeling kinda tired and could do with a nap.”
“Sure. You okay? You went sort of quiet after lunch.”
“Yeah, as I said, just tired.”
Kian dried his hands on the tea towel then placed them on my belly. “Not even born yet, and little Ella is al
ready tiring mummy out. You get some rest, and call me if you need anything.”
I laid my hand across his. “I will.”
I walked Kian to the door then stood on the threshold and watched as he got into his car and drove away.
Alone in my flat, my mixed thoughts threatened to come spilling out. I got my phone out and started to text Stacey, before thinking better of it. I wasn’t sure she’d understand that I needed to give Kian space to sort his head out. She’d just tell me to go for it. And even if she didn’t, I wasn’t sure I wanted to rehash everything that’d gone on between us. I’d called a rain check to have some space and clear my head, so that’s exactly what I intended to do.
I went to my room, and booted up my laptop, quickly checking my emails in case any of the jobs I’d applied for online has responded. None had. Instead of focusing on the negative, I dove straight into some uni work, trying to get a jump on my end of degree assignments and presentation.
The practical side of my end of year work was the decal I’d made for Ella’s nursery, but I also had to accompany it with an essay, detailing why I’d chosen to design what I had, what materials I’d used, where I saw my design fitting in with similar items in the market, and how my design differed and stood out from the rest. It was stuff I’d done countless times before during the duration of my degree, but this time, it had to be perfect. The design and accompanying essay not only had to be presented to my peers and tutor, but also at the end of degree show, in front of a board of impartial adjudicators.
I thought back to the career day at uni, and the compliments I’d received from Amanda Healey, the head of HR at my dream firm, Honeycomb Designs. If I could get the highest grades possible for my nursery design, and then add to my portfolio with similar pieces while on maternity leave with Ella, by the time I was ready to return to work, I should have everything I needed to wow the people at Honeycomb Designs and secure a job there.
The only thing that might stand against me was my lack of real world experience, so, determined to find a solution to that problem, I browsed some websites offering advice to people about to graduate. The recurring suggestion was to do some freelance work, that way you could build up experience and references, earn a little money, and hopefully get your name out there in the design world. It sounded like the perfect thing to do while I was on maternity leave, and I set up portfolios on some popular freelance sites.
All It Takes Page 22
