by Penny Reid
My poor decision-making in the past was something that always haunted me. I could distinctly remember thinking the sun shone out of Jennifer’s backside. Kylie’s, too. I could remember thinking they’d never set a foot wrong, similar to how I thought of Eilish.
But, no.
Things were different. She was different. She was honorable. And I was sober now. I was levelheaded enough to know a genuine person when I saw one and Eilish was as authentic as they came.
“So, you said you two have decided to take things slow,” said Sarah. “Was that her decision or yours?”
I thought on that a second, and then answered, “Hers. But mine, too. Well, I agreed with her logic, that is.”
“Of course it was hers,” Sarah mumbled under her breath like I was thick or something.
I grit my teeth but said nothing, not liking her tone. But she was my sponsor. She’d been there for me through dark times. I owed her a listen.
She blew out a breath. “Look, I’m only trying to play devil’s advocate here, but have you ever considered that withholding sex could be her way of stringing you along?”
“Sarah,” I growled, warning in my tone.
“Just hear me out. This is all purely hypothetical. So, she lets you have her, gives you a taste of what you’ve been missing all these years, then pulls the brakes. She knows you’ve had problems with addiction and she’s using it against you, only this time through sex. If she keeps dangling that cherry over your head, she knows you’ll do whatever she wants, including accepting Patrick as yours without a paternity test. Next thing you know, you’re married with a kid that’s not even yours.”
That was a laugh. There was no doubt Patrick was mine. “You’re letting your imagination run away with you. He’s the spitting image of me,” I said, at the same time remembering the incident after our first date, when Eilish’s neighbor had mentioned Patrick telling her his mummy was going to get married. I hadn’t had the chance to question him about it, had tried to brush it off as childish folly.
Now I began to doubt myself, just like I always did.
No.
No, no, no.
Sarah didn’t know Eilish like I did. She was seeing all this through a tiny lens. She’d never seen how it was when we were together. She didn’t know how right it felt.
“You’re wrong, Sarah,” I told her flatly. “Eilish would never come up with something so convoluted, something so manipulative. If you ever met her in person, you’d know it’s true.”
There was a long moment of silence on her end of the line, and I thought she was going to argue with me until I was blue in the face. But then all she said was, “Okay.”
Okay? That was it?
“If you trust her then I’ll trust her,” she went on. “You’re a grown-up and I guess there comes a point when every sponsor has to let their sponsee make their own choices. Maybe I’m just being overprotective. Maybe you know better than I do.”
I felt strange. I’d been trying to get her to accept Eilish all this time, and now that she was relenting it felt like she was giving up on me. I didn’t like it, and my confidence wavered.
“Come on, don’t be like that.”
“I’m not being like anything. Just know that I care about what happens to you. Think about it, Bryan.”
With that she hung up and I sat staring at my phone for a long while, a feeling of unease building within me. Finally, I managed to shake it off and emerged from the car.
I knocked on Eilish’s door and heard little feet running down the hallway. Bigger feet followed and then she opened the door to greet me, Patrick in front of her.
“Bryan!” he roared and ran forward to throw his arms around my legs. His excitement took me by surprise, and instantly the lingering bad vibes from Sarah’s phone call melted away. He was mine. In my heart of hearts, I knew it was true. I met Eilish’s gaze, and she was shaking her head at our son’s antics.
“I made the mistake of letting him have ice cream after lunch about an hour ago. He’s been running about like a crazed monkey ever since.”
I took his hand and stepped inside. He was practically hopping with energy.
“How about I take him across to the park, and we can throw a ball around for a bit? That’ll burn off some of the hyper.”
“Yes! Let’s go now,” Patrick yelled enthusiastically.
Eilish blew out a breath, looking relieved at the suggestion. “That’d be great, actually. It’ll give me a chance to put dinner together.”
“Take your time,” I told her and bent to press a kiss on her cheek. As I pulled away, I caught her eye and found her looking at me strangely, like she was disappointed or frustrated.
But then Patrick exclaimed, “You’re kissing again!” breaking the moment, and both Eilish and I started laughing.
“Yep, we are, and now you’re getting one, too,” I said, lifting him and laying a big smacker on his cheek. He giggled loudly, and I set him back down. Eilish wore a warm expression as she took in the two of us. I felt that same warmth suffuse my chest. It was such a normal, everyday moment, and I couldn’t remember the last time I felt so light, like life was full of good things, endless possibilities. Sarah was wrong about Eilish, so fucking wrong.
“We’ll be back in half an hour,” I said as I took Patrick’s hand and led him over the road to the park. I made a quick stop at my car to grab a rugby ball from the trunk.
“I’m cold,” said Patrick, and I realized in his excitement he’d forgotten to put on a coat. I didn’t want to bother Eilish so I grabbed a clean rugby shirt I had stashed in the car.
“You want to wear this?” I said, holding it up to him.
“Okay,” he nodded, completely unaware of the significance. I bent down on one knee and pulled the shirt over his head. The thing was huge on him so I tied it at the end to make it fit better and rolled up the sleeves. It still swam on him but it was the best I could do. Patrick stared up at me with his big, trusting green eyes and emotion smacked me right in the chest. There was something about seeing him in my colors, my number on his back, that had me choking up. Yes, that’s right, I was a grown man, and I was welling up at the sight of a little kid wearing my shirt.
“You warmer now?” I asked gruffly, too much love for this boy.
Patrick wriggled around in the shirt for a second, getting comfortable, then said, “Yep.”
I smiled so hard my jaw hurt. “Okay, let’s go play some rugby.”
By the time the half hour was up, both of us were covered in mud and grass stains. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had so much fun. The kid’s hyperactivity was infectious. Eilish gaped at us when she opened the door, and held up a hand. “Wait. You both need to take your shoes off. I don’t want grass trampled all over the house.”
I quickly helped Patrick off with his shoes and then removed my own. Whatever Eilish had made for dinner smelled delicious.
“Is that your shirt he’s wearing?” she asked in surprise.
“I wanna play rugby like Bryan and Monkey Sean when I get older,” Patrick said.
“He forgot his coat,” I answered softly. “I hope it’s okay I let him wear it.”
“Of course. It’s way too big for him, but he looks adorable,” Eilish said, reaching down to rub some mud off his face. “He also needs to wash all this mud off. I’ll take him into my en-suite and you can use the main bathroom,” she went on, plucking a tuft of grass from my hair and winking. I liked her like this, easy-going, flirtatious. She was different when she was at home, definitely a lot more relaxed than at work.
About twenty minutes later, we sat down to eat. Eilish made Spanish omelets, and I devoured everything on my plate. The three of us talked and laughed. It was an unexpected moment of blissful domesticity. I was surprised how much I enjoyed it. Just this.
I looked across the table at Eilish, and she gave me a small smile. Maybe she liked it, too. Me being here with them. I caught her feet between mine under the table, my gaze da
rkening. She pulled at the collar of her top, like she was too hot all of a sudden. I grinned and continued cradling her legs between mine. She shot me a look that said quit it.
I didn’t.
By the time we’d all finished eating, I had her truly flustered and was enjoying myself immensely. I loved winding her up. But more than that, our lack of physical interaction was really starting to weigh on me. I didn’t need sex, not if she wasn’t ready, but I felt like I needed to touch her more than I needed to breathe.
She went to settle Patrick in the living room and I made a start on the dishes. I was almost done when she came back in.
“Were you sent from heaven?” she asked, flopping onto a chair as I wiped down the counter.
I shot her a devilish look. “Household chores and orgasms are the way to a woman’s heart, right?”
She flushed and I grinned in triumph. I dried my hands with a dish cloth and strode across the room to kneel before her. “Speaking of the latter,” I whispered and leaned forward to kiss her neck.
She let out a quiet moan and wriggled in place. “We can’t.”
“Let me touch you,” I pleaded. “Just for a little while.”
My hands roamed her thighs, her hips. She trembled. I licked a line from her neck to her earlobe, sucking it into my mouth and loving how she gripped my shoulders in response.
“Bryan,” she gasped when I kissed my way to her chin and gave her a little nip with my teeth.
“If you let me, I’d make you come for the entire night. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, but I have incredible stamina.” I spoke low and husky, trying to keep the mood light, and her skin flushed red with desire.
In that moment I thought she might give in, but then her grip on my shoulders tightened, and she pushed me away. She was shaking her head, and I frowned. It had been weeks since we’d kissed, really kissed.
“Patrick’s in the next room. We really can’t do this. I’m sorry,” she said, worrying her lip like she was afraid I’d be angry, but I wasn’t.
Not really. Just tremendously frustrated and crazy in love with a woman who didn’t love me back.
No big deal.
I stood, gritting my teeth, and glanced at the clock, catching sight of the time. I had an evening training session I needed to get to and, honestly, I was relieved for the excuse to leave.
“Don’t apologize. You’re right, and I need to get going anyway.”
“Will we see you this week?” she asked, and seeing the knit of her brow, the plain frustration on her features, my uneasiness actually eased.
I lifted Eilish’s hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of her wrist. “Yes. Absolutely. Does tomorrow work?”
Eilish rubbed at her brow. “I’m working all day tomorrow, and Patrick will be at school, but you’re welcome to stop by the day after. We could watch a movie and order pizza?”
“Sure, sounds great,” I told her and dipped down to give her a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll see you then.”
I left, already anticipating the next time we’d all be together, but I couldn’t seem to master the pressing doubt in the back of my mind.
I loved her. I was in love with her. It had happened so organically, so naturally as I got to know her, but I couldn’t help notice that she was constantly pushing me away. We hadn’t gone on any more dates since our first and I wondered if, maybe if I took her out and we had a proper chance to talk, maybe . . .
On the drive my phone rang, pulling me from my frustrated thoughts. I thought it might be Mam calling to catch up. She’d started making an attempt to lower her alcohol intake, but she wasn’t sober yet, not by a long shot. Still, she was down from three bottles of wine a night to one, and that was a huge improvement.
I frowned when I saw the number wasn’t my mother’s, but Eilish’s. Again. What the hell was she calling for? I hoped like hell I wasn’t being summoned to another family brunch. Hitting “accept,” I put the phone on speaker.
“Cara, good to hear from you,” I lied. “How have you been?”
“Hello, Bryan. I’m quite well. And you?”
“Just dandy.”
She cleared her throat. “I thought I’d call since I hear you and Eilish have been spending a lot of time together.”
My mouth formed a thin line. Just who, exactly had she been hearing this from? “We’ve been seeing each other, yes.”
“Dating is the term I believe they use nowadays.”
I frowned at the phone, then at the road, then back at the phone again. Where was she going with this? “That’s right. I like your daughter a lot, Mrs. Cassidy.”
“And the child? Am I to assume you’ve accepted him as your own?”
The child? What the fuck was this woman on?
“Cara, not to sound blunt, but what’s this phone call about? You can be upfront with me. I don’t need empty pleasantries.”
There was a long moment of silence and I wondered if I’d offended her. I just didn’t see the point of beating around the bush. I might have a decent name thanks to my father, who was rich enough to be considered respectable in Cara Cassidy’s eyes, but I was under no illusions that she liked me. I already knew she was aware of my past and found it all distasteful.
“As you wish,” she said, recovering. “Now that you are aware you have a son, I was simply wondering what you plan to do about it?”
“Do about it?”
My vaguely hostile tone didn’t faze her as she continued. “The respectable thing would be to marry my daughter and solidify her position in society. She’s gone long enough as a black mark on our name, and even though we can’t restore her image completely we can at least salvage some of—”
“Okay, I’m going to stop you right there, Cara. This isn’t the nineteenth century, and I’m not going to be manipulated, guilt-tripped, or bullied into marrying your daughter just because you think it will somehow restore her virtue. There’s no restoration needed. Eilish is a wonderful person, and she’s done an amazing job bringing up our son. You’re the only one who can’t see it.”
Now she laughed. It was a cold, cruel sort of laughter. “I see she has you wrapped around her little finger.”
“Excuse me?”
“She had your posters plastered all over her bedroom wall as a teenager, you know. Completely infatuated. I suppose it’s no surprise what happened. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say she planned all this from the very beginning.”
A weird feeling crept over me and I hesitated, unsure what to say next.
She was lying. She had to be. Eilish would never plan something so calculated. She wouldn’t. Christ, it was like the phone call with Sarah all over again, only without the person on the other end actually giving a damn about me.
“You’ve got a sick mind, do you know that?”
“What on earth are you talking about?” asked Cara, like butter wouldn’t melt. “I’m only trying to let you know how much Eilish adores you and how she’s wanted to marry you since she was a young girl. Now all you have to do is man up and propose. It’s really quite simple, Bryan.”
“I’m hanging up now,” I told her.
“Don’t you dare—”
I pressed the “end” button before she could finish her sentence, my gut all twisted up in knots. I wished I’d never answered the call. Doubts crawled all over me, like spiders spinning a web.
Yeah, I’d found the idea of Eilish having a teenage crush on me a little unsettling, but mostly cute. What I didn’t find cute was the notion of her planning to bed me, to get pregnant.
This is madness. You love her.
But then, my insecurities took hold, my past mistakes. I’d been wrong about people before and it had cost me not just money, but entire chunks of my life, too. Sarah’s warnings rushed back as well, her words a foreboding echo in my mind.
The majority of women you used to sleep with were users. They encouraged your addiction because keeping you shitfaced meant they could run around spending your
money. Remember Jennifer? Remember Kylie?
I pulled at my hair, unable to make sense of my thoughts. Did I believe Cara and Sarah, or did I trust the Eilish I knew now, the grown woman as opposed to the teenage girl?
This was nuts. Of course I trusted Eilish.
Then again . . .
I may have trusted her, but could I trust my own judgment? By her own admission, she hadn’t been a good person when she was younger. Was that her way of telling me she’d done this on purpose?
How could one phone call send a perfect day spiraling so far down the toilet?
Fucking hell.
Again, I wished I’d never answered that bloody phone call. But I knew what I had to do. Even if I did trust the Eilish I’d come to know, I needed to put this doubt to rest. Set straight everyone who thought they had a say in our relationship so that we could finally be happy together. In the grand scale of things, that’s all I really wanted. To be with Eilish, the reserved girl who always surprised me with her humor and sass, the one who snuck a peek at medical journals between washing the dishes and taking care of our son, the one who understood my love of home comforts, who looked into my eyes and seemed to see right into me like no one else ever had.
And in order for us to be together we needed to talk about what really happened five years ago, what she hasn’t told me about her life since then, and maybe I needed to get the goddamn paternity test, if only to shut up Cara Cassidy and Sarah and anyone else who thought they had a say in our business.
24
@ECassChoosesPikachu: What does not kill us merely lowers our defenses for the next shit storm to finish us off.
@SeanCassinova to @ECassChoosesPikachu: I still have my “Free Hugs” sign.
*Eilish*
“I don’t understand.” I moved the cell from my left hand to my right, cradling the phone against my ear. “Sorry, could you repeat that?”
It happened on Tuesday.
Monday came and went without seeing or speaking to Bryan, but that wasn’t unusual. Mondays were busy, catching up with the team after the weekend, setting the priorities and schedule for the week leading up to the game.
