by Liz Gavin
“I’m fine without him.”
“No doubt, but I meant help pay for the bills. Tell me the house is yours, at least.”
“I filed for divorce based on the fact that he abandoned his family, leaving me without means of providing for our kids. The judge ruled in my favor and transferred the house to me.”
“Not the business, though.”
“Bob had a partner, so the business is different. It doesn’t belong solely to Bob, and I have no legal part in the business. My lawyer has been trying to get a judge to agree to force Silvio Fernandes to set up a fund for my kids with the profits that Bob would have received from the advertising agency if he had stayed.”
Karen scoffed. “I imagine Mr. Fernandes must have gotten thrilled with the prospect. Silvio and his bunch of dirty politicians love to throw money away.”
“Right? I really dislike politics, though. In my opinion, the only thing Brazilian government seems to excel in is forcing people to pay more taxes. Too bad the money doesn’t return as proper services.”
Karen squinted her eyes. “I couldn’t agree more, but you’re going off the topic, and I bet it’s intentional.”
Moira deliberate shrug was meant to offer no commitment either way.
Karen didn’t buy it. “We’ve stablished you’re better off without Bob. Fine. That doesn’t mean being alone. I ran into Frank Mendes the other day. He asked me if you were seeing anyone because you haven’t been returning his calls.”
Another non-committal bob of her shoulders, as Moira swept the floor. “We went out a couple of times after you introduced him to me last year. I liked him, but the logistics was complicated.”
Karen grabbed a beer from the fridge and returned to the table she had been occupying. “He’s a cute single guy who lives fifteen minutes away from you. What could be complicated about that?”
“How well do you know Frank?”
Karen hesitated. “He’s a friend of my boyfriend’s sister.”
“Meaning, you don’t know him that well, correct? I don’t either. I don’t want to offer access to my house to a man I barely know. I’m thinking about my safety and that of my kids. Frank invited me over to his house. I also didn’t feel safe doing so.”
“There are other options.”
“We went to a hotel, but it was just too much work.”
Karen shook her head. “I won’t argue this case. It’s done and over with. But next time, don’t give up so fast, hon.”
“That’s the thing. I don’t want to try again. It’s always too much work. I’m better off without it.
“What the freak do you mean by that? Too much work? Love isn’t supposed to be easy.”
Moira returned the broom to the closet behind the counter, so she didn’t face Karen as she retorted. “Who’s talking about love? I’ve no illusions, K. I’m done with love. I’ve had my chance at it and blew it. When I said it’s too much work, I meant sex. It’s just not worth it. I get by fine without it. Besides, I’m thirty-two years old, and I’ve got two kids to raise. Who am I kidding here?”
Karen gawked. Then, shook her head a couple of times, eyes glued to Moira’s, and mouth slightly open. “I’m trying to process a million thoughts at the same time. You’ve just spewed such a stinking load of crap. I don’t know where to start.” She stuck her index finger up. “One, you’re not dead. You’re just overwhelmed raising two kids on your own. Two, you’re young, beautiful, and smart. Don’t ever sell yourself short or doubt that you still have a lot to look forward to.” She raised a hand when Moira tried to interrupt her. “Please let me finish. Three, you didn’t blow anything, Bob sucked as a human being. Period. Four, who says we’ve got only one chance at love and happiness? And five, please, please don’t ever say sex isn’t worth the effort. You haven’t met skilled enough lovers, that’s all.”
“Said the woman with three boyfriends.”
“And a girlfriend.”
“Did Rosa come around and agreed to your lifestyle? Last time we talked, she had not accepted your proposal.”
“She’s jealous, which makes things a little uncomfortable sometimes. But she’s working really hard on that. And I love her all the more for it.”
“How about Roger, Matthew, and Paul? I have a hard time wrapping my head around the idea they know about one another and don’t mind sharing you.”
“Technically, there’s very little sharing.” She guffawed.
“Silly. I wasn’t talking about threesomes, or foursomes, or whatever number you prefer.”
“You’re doing it again. This is about your love life, not mine.”
Moira polished the counter top until it reflected the glasses hanging upside down above it. “I don’t have time for this kind of nonsense.”
Karen’s eyes got round as dishes, and her jaw dropped. If Moira were not so annoyed, she would laugh at her friend’s expression.
She was annoyed, though.
Ana Oliveira sauntered into the bistro, long red hair in a ponytail, wearing a flowered sundress that flattered her athletic figure and endless legs, and Moira welcomed the distraction. Maybe the arrival of the waitress would get Karen off her case and help her forget about Moira’s non-existent sex life. The subject often made Moira uncomfortable, not because she was a prude, but because it made her wonder why she wasn’t that much into sex. Not as much as most of her female friends proclaimed to be. Certainly not as much as Karen enjoyed sex.
I’m not a prude. I’m not uptight. The usual mantra went on in her head.
“Hey, ladies. Why do I have the feeling I walked into a catfight? Let me drop my stuff inside, and I’ll be right back. I want to hear exactly what you two have been up to.”
When Ana returned from the staff room, Karen didn’t give Moira a chance to speak. “Our Moira here has just told me sex is a nuisance she can’t be bothered with. Please, help me put some sense into this misguided woman.”
Moira rolled her eyes; but didn’t argue. Instead, she swept the floor some more, while Ana washed glasses and stacked them behind the counter.
“I can’t argue that point,” Ana replied.
“I’m shocked, Party Girl.” Karen feigned it. “I thought you’d be on my side.”
“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I sympathize with Moira’s choices. If she’s happy, I’m happy for her, no matter what.”
Karen nodded as she fidgeted with a napkin. “No doubt. But, I believe a friend will point out behaviors that could be improved, if that makes sense. For instance, not going after the bastard who fathered her kids to demand alimony.”
Moira hid her flushed face inside the cabinet, as she swopped the broom for a mop.
Ana sided with Karen. “Oh, I second that. I could call my friend Nessa, if you wanted, Moira. She’s an investigative reporter, and a damn good one too.”
Sweat trickled down the bridge of Moira’s nose, dripping on her faded purple t-shirt, leaving a dark spot. The air conditioning couldn’t keep up with her friends’ grilling or the exertion from mopping the floor.
“Thanks, but I don’t think that’s necessary.”
“See what I mean?” Karen pointed at Moira and her stare locked with Ana’s. “Mules are less stubborn. Same with her ideas about sex.” She zeroed in on Moira. “Loosen up a bit, try a no-strings sex-fest for once to see if you like it.”
“Best kind there is,” Noah Cartwright agreed.
8
Moira - Fall - 2016
Moira’s stomach dropped at the sound of her boss’s voice behind her.
Swirling, her jaw followed suit, and fell to her chest. She wished the ground would swallow her right that instant as she eyeballed the newcomers. Not so much because of Noah’s boyish grin splitting his face as he took in the scene he had walked into, but definitely because of the Greek god standing beside him.
She tried and failed to take her eyes off the young man’s perfection.
Smooth forehead, broad shoulders, and narrow hips.
Her eyes stuck on the man’s powerful thighs bulging beneath the stretched fabric of his khaki Bermuda shorts.
Her brain stuck in a loop feeding her erotic scenes featuring another part of his anatomy that was equally bulging his shorts.
Damn it.
When arousal flooded her girly parts, like it hadn’t happened in forever, reminding Moira of her dry spell, she got self-conscious. Not of her natural reaction to the man’s beauty, but of her disheveled appearance.
Crap.
As Noah introduced his companion, she tucked a strand of hair that had escaped the loose bun she had piled on top of her head. “Ladies, sorry to interrupt your riveting debate, but I’d like you to meet the newest addition to my band. Aidan Gallagher, these are Ana Oliveira, Karen Razzini, and Moira Romano.”
Aidan dipped his head to greet each woman as Noah named them, but his eyes didn’t leave Moira’s when he spoke, in a charming accent that caressed her ears. “Always a pleasure meeting your country’s beauties. I think I might never go back to Ireland.”
That explained the music in his voice. Moira had lost hers, so she leaned on the mop and ogled, praying she wouldn’t drool.
Karen stretched out her hand. “Right back at you. Ireland has just shot up to the top of my dream destinations bucket list.”
Even his laughter has an enchanting ring to it.
Moira wished her inner teenager would behave, but that was a lost cause. Aidan Gallagher was the right age for the brat. Adult Moira, however, was too old for that kind of nonsense. She needed to focus on that. Maybe then she would regain control of her rebelled body.
Still incapable of speaking or moving, she watched Aidan bowed over Karen’s hand pretending to kiss it, like gentlemen used to do in imperial times, and whispered in French, “Enchanté.” He repeated the reverence to Ana. He did the same with Moira’s hand, except he didn’t let go of it, once he straighten his back. He held the fingers she tried to pull away and covered her hand with his other one. Blue eyes probed hers, and the rest of the world faded to the background. “Have dinner with me.”
Yes, screamed teen Moira.
The perfect arch of his right eyebrow hitched up, followed by his full lower lip. “Please?”
Yes, damn it, insisted the brat, stomping a foot.
Moira shut her eyes on temptation for a second and recovered her cool when she reopened them. Except, she had to focus her stare on the lower button of his polo shirt to be able to keep her resolve. “Sorry. I’ve got two kids to look after when I go home.” She brandished the killer blow with precision. Nothing scared men like the K word.
“I’m great with kids.”
Her time to probe his gaze. Aidan wasn’t bullshitting her. Great. Too bad he was a friend of her bosses, a barely legal friend of her bosses.
“I don’t doubt it, being close to their age and all.”
“Moira!” Karen and Ana scolded her.
“Ouch!” Noah sounded at the same time as the women.
Aidan was the only one amused by her words, as his guffaw indicated. The sound sparked another wave of reaction in her. She steeled her spine and held the scowl in place as it slipped.
He remarked, “Twenty-two is a long way from childhood, but I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Older than I thought, but still too young for my thirty-two. I’m flattered, but I’ll pass.” She gathered the mop and the bucket she had neglected and tipped her head toward the staff room. “Excuse me. I should get ready for work.”
Moira ignored the shadow which darkened the blue in his eyes when she pulled her hand out of the cocoon of his and scurried out of the bar. Her hands shook as she unbuttoned her old shorts and pulled the stained t-shirt over her head. She tossed them on the floor of the cramped staff bathroom. When she hoisted a leg to step into the black mini skirt of her uniform, Moira almost keeled over. She set her foot back on the ground and leaned against the wall, waiting for her shaky limbs to cooperate with her efforts.
Damn the guy.
She was safe in her illusion that she was immune to silly emotions, unattainable desires. Why the heck did Aidan have to pop up in her life and derail her secure existence? Her sex-free life?
Boring as hell life? Teen Moira suggested.
“Oh, shut the fuck up!” she uttered, as she donned the skirt and pulled on the white button-down shirt that completed the uniform. An elegant logo embroidered in golden thread set off the black apron she tied to her waist.
She peered into the mirror and sighed.
Life sucked sometimes. She couldn’t fool herself.
As attractive as Aidan was, he was off-limits.
Too young, too foreigner, too close to her breadwinning place.
Even if she overlooked the fact he was ten years her senior, Aidan could go back to his Ireland at any moment, leaving her behind. Or worse, she could screw up their relationship and lose her job. Noah and Tristan were fair bosses, but replacing a bartender would be much easier than a band member, if push came to shove.
Moira tied her hair in a tight bun at her nape and sighed again.
It was a no-brainer. She would not get involved with Aidan Gallagher.
Period.
Case closed.
Too bad her heart and brain didn’t speak the same language.
The damned man tested her decision all through her shift. Aidan plopped himself on a stool, nursed the same bottle of beer the whole time, and followed her every move. She ignored the way his knuckles turned white as he held the bottle. She didn’t engage when he talked to her, using the busy happy-hour as excuse every time he made a comment meant for her. At last, he gave up chatting, not so much staring.
She was exhausted when the shift ended.
Taking advantage of Aidan’s momentary distraction as he replied to something Noah asked him, Moira snuck out of the bar. She grabbed her backpack from the staff room, and left through the delivery door, not bothering to change into her civil clothes.
She drove her beat-up green Jetta like a manic through the packed streets at rush-hour.
Or like someone escaping her demons.
Either way, her mind raced more.
And it was all for nothing. Her demons lived inside her. They were going nowhere.
Frustrated, she parked in her driveway, killed the engine, and leaned her forehead against the cool leather of the steering wheel.
If only life were simpler.
Shaking her head to disperse the illusions that insisted on setting up camp inside her head, Moira got out of the car, slung the backpack on a shoulder and ambled to Mrs. Oliveira’s house, two doors down the street from hers.
Before she knocked on the front door, she heard Danielle’s and Felipe’s shrieks.
“Mom!”
Her heart swelled, as their footsteps scampered toward the door. They burst through it and pounced on her. She squatted and scooped them both in her arms, kissing their cheeks and hair. She inhaled their scent, her heart fluttered. Dani and Felipe were her life, her reality, her amazing kids.
She made a mental note to keep that in mind, shoving the intrusive dreams of tempting Irishmen back to the dungeon of her unconscious.
“Thanks, Mrs. Oliveira,” she muttered, straightening up when the elderly neighbor came to her front door.
“My pleasure. They’re easy kids to look after. Dani finished her homework in record time, so she decided to go ahead and teach Felipe what she had learned in school today.”
Moira grinned. “That’s my girl.” She kissed her daughter’s cheek.
“I’ve got an A in spelling today.”
“Good job, I’m proud of you. Now, go grab your things, so we can go home, and Mrs. Oliveira can have peace and quiet again. Felipe, help your sister.”
“Would you like to come in and have some coffee?” Mrs. Oliveira offered.
“Thank you, but we should go. Have
you heard back from the doctors?”
The sweet lady had received a troubling diagnosis a few months earlier. The doctors suspected cancer, so they ran more tests to determine its stage.
“They’ve confirmed it’s a stage one tumor, so treatment will be non-invasive, and the prognosis is favorable.”
Relief seeped through Moira’s voice. “So glad to hear that. It would be hard going through more aggressive treatment living away from your family.”
Since Mr. Oliveira passed away, the neighbor’s family had been reduced to a daughter who lived more than ten hours away in São Paulo.
“You can say that again.”
When her kids returned carrying their backpacks, Moira thanked the lady again. “Thanks. Goodnight.”
At home, she cooked pizza, and they gobbled it down with soda as they watched cartoons on TV. Around eight, she put the little rascals in bed.
“Why do I need to go to bed? I’m not sleepy,” slurred Felipe as he dragged his feet along the corridor to his room.
She smiled. “Yeah, I can see that. It’s a school night, buddy. We all sleep early on school nights, right?”
“Right,” Danielle agreed, lacing her fingers through her mom’s.
Moira waited for her daughter to get under the covers, pulled them up, and kissed her smooth cheek. “Goodnight, angel. Sleep tight.”
She walked Felipe to his room, hoisted him onto bed, and tucked him in. When she leaned to kiss him goodnight, his soft snore made her smile.
With the kids sound asleep, she locked the doors, turned off the lights, and got in the shower. As the warm jets embraced her, washing the worries of the day away, she couldn’t keep the memory of Aidan’s face at bay anymore. And it invaded her mind with a strength that surprised her.
She never believed in lust at first sight. She certainly didn’t believe in love at first sight. Yet, she couldn’t ignore the emotions that took her senses by storm.
She knew Aidan was attracted to her as well. If she gave him half a chance, he would grab it.
Then, what?
After they had a couple of moments of bliss, some sweaty rounds under the covers, what would happen? There was no future for them, she reminded her stubborn heart as she got out of the shower and toweled dry herself. Any relationship she had with a man would mean putting her kids in contact with said boyfriend. What if they got attached and the relationship failed? Dani and Felipe had already been abandoned once. She wouldn’t put her children through that hell again.
