by A. S. Kelly
I stand up and slip my dress over my head, letting it drop to the floor. My bra and underwear meet the same fate, and my gaze falls instinctively to his erection, showing me just how much he wants me.
I turn to him and kneel in front of his body. I run my finger along his abs, then litter them with kisses, slowly, biting them gently. I feel them tense under my touch. His hand is in my hair, which tickles his body, almost making him laugh. I undo the button of his jeans and slide them off, along with his boxers. I stroke his erection, kissing it, and slide my tongue from the bottom to its tip, before taking it in my hand. Flames are dancing in his eyes as he watches me, what I’m doing to him. I watch him as my hand slides up and down, his hips pushing towards me, trying to quicken my movements.
“My God, Christine…this is torture.”
“Don’t be dramatic,” I say.
“Please, I have to touch you…”
I look at him, hopefully.
“Trust me. I just want to touch you.”
He takes me by the hand and lies me down next to him. He traces along my face, my neck, and down to my breasts. His finger circles my nipple, as he takes the other in his mouth. He sucks it, but delicately, tasting it, making it his. Then his hand slides lower, his fingers brushing between my thighs.
I arch my back and push my legs apart, giving him the space he needs. His hand slips between my legs, and he watches my expression.
“I want to feel you like this,” he says. “And I want to watch you while I do it.”
His fingers slide inside me, pushing as deep as they can go: decisive, but not invasive. His thumb plays with my clit and then he makes his way down to taste me with his mouth. Just one lick and I nearly yell out, but those damn hands are touching me, teetering me on the edge.
“Don’t do it,” he says. “Don’t shout it. Whisper it, like it’s just for us. Intimate.”
And I do what he says.
I whisper his name between sighs, whispering with my mouth and with my heart, as Ryan’s hand leads me to paradise.
Then, Ryan O’Connor is on top of me, overpowering. He takes me, makes me his, makes me feel everything he has to offer me. And I take it without hesitation, letting him love my body and letting my body love his.
We roll around in the sheets, close, intimate. Our bodies become one, rubbing against each other.
Our hands are interlinked above my head, and I see his eyes darken, deepen, sucking me completely into him.
Our mouths are on top of each other, heading together towards the point of no return, breathing in the emotion that has nothing to do with sex: but tastes more like love.
I wake up, untangling myself from Ryan’s arms. I watch him sleep contentedly, and decide not to wake him up. I don’t want to ruin this perfect moment.
I have a quick shower and go to wake up Evan, miraculously on time for school. We have breakfast together, sitting at the kitchen counter, just like we used to.
“Where’s Ryan?” he asks.
“Asleep.”
“Lucky him,” he comments, stuffing a rasher of bacon into his mouth.
I decide to take this opportunity to talk to my son.
“Are you okay with all this?”
“Mmm?”
“With him being here, like this…”
“Living with us?”
I nod.
“I think so,” he shrugs.
“Evan, this is important.”
“Okay, well, what do you want me to say? That I’m happy? That I can’t wait to have a new dad?”
“You already have a dad.”
“Exactly. So this is nothing to do with me.”
“Of course this is something to do with you, you’re my son and he…”
“And he’s your boyfriend, Mum.”
Seriously? Ryan O’Connor is my boyfriend? I hadn’t thought of it like that.
“You have to like him. I don’t.”
“But we all basically live together.”
“I don’t mind him being here.”
“That’s not the response I was hoping for.”
“What do you want me to say? That I’ll make a speech when you get married?”
“Evan!”
“What?”
“We’re not going to get married.”
“Right, as if you hadn’t thought about it.”
Had I thought about it? Not until now, but come on. We haven’t known each other very long, he has a difficult past. He’s scared to trust another woman.
“I don’t think it’ll ever happen.”
“Do you want it to?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly. “Sometimes I’ve thought about getting married, having a family.”
“Other kids?”
“Would you mind?”
“I don’t think so…oh, good morning!”
I turn around suddenly to see Ryan on the stairs wearing only a pair of jeans.
“G-good morning,” I say, embarrassed, hoping he didn’t hear any of our conversation. “There’s coffee in the pot and a few eggs left. There might even be some bacon left if Evan stops stuffing his face.”
“Okay,” he says coldly.
“I’ll take Evan to school then I’ll be back. I have to go over to the café later. We’re almost ready to reopen now and I have to put through some orders.”
He nods, but doesn’t move.
“Okay,” I say, getting up and grabbing my bag. “Let’s go, Evan, or we’ll be late.”
Evan grabs his rucksack and says goodbye to Ryan. I stop in the doorway and look at him.
“Is everything okay?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ll see you later,” I say, closing the door behind me. I can feel something between us changing quickly: and it’s nothing good.
75
Ryan
When Christine gets home, I’ve already zipped up my duffel bag. I can hear her running upstairs, and she bursts into the room.
After a few seconds, she realises what I’m doing.
“Why?” she asks, simply.
“There’s no reason for me to stick around. Actually, I think I’ve overstayed my welcome,” I say coldly, avoiding her gaze.
“I never asked you to stay,” she says bitterly.
“No, you didn’t. I wanted to stay, but now that everything’s fine, the café’s reopening…I think it’s time for me to get back to my life.”
“I get it…” she says, sitting on the bed. “You overheard that stupid conversation between me and Evan this morning.”
“It’s not that.”
“Then why are you leaving? It was going so well, and last night…”
“Last night has nothing to do with it. It was just one night.”
I’m hurting myself and I’m hurting her in the process. It only took me less than half an hour to go back to being that bastard.
“Sure…” she says, her voice trembling.
I turn to her, and take the plunge.
“I can’t do it.”
“What?”
“Marriage, kids? A family?”
She gets up. “I never expected any of that.”
“But you will. You’d just never say it. I’ve already tried all that, and I didn’t like it at all.”
“Ryan, you’re going way too quickly. No one’s expecting anything of you.”
“Maybe that’s for the best. I can’t give you expectations or a future. All I can give you is the present: uncertain, full of gaps.”
“You’re jumping to conclusions. You’re putting words into my mouth.”
“But it’s what you want.”
“Do you want to know what I really want, Ryan? I want evenings on the sofa, relaxing dinners in front of the TV. I want to put my feet up on your legs. Laughter. Hot nights under the sheets – and on top of them. I want arms wrapped around me when I come home, knackered, after a long day. Someone I don’t have to hide that extra glass of wine from. Someone who won’t judge me for crying
at romcoms. Someone who wants to stay the next morning, who won’t run away with his jeans still undone.”
“So you’re telling me that you’re not looking for a father for your son?”
“My son already has a father, Ryan. I was never looking for a replacement. All I want is a man. For me.”
“I’m not that man, Christine. All I can give you is today. I’m not sure I can stay every morning.”
“Today isn’t enough, Ryan. It isn’t enough anymore. I’m almost thirty-three. I’ve had my fill of bad relationships and men who won’t stay the next day. I’ve had a life of choices, of strength, of hard work and nothing for myself. And now I want something that’s just mine. A man that will show me a tomorrow.”
“You’re looking for a forever, Christine. That’s something that won’t work for me.”
She nods, turning towards the door. She opens it and stands there, frozen, in the doorway. Then she speaks to me, just a few words: but they’re enough to make me realise that I can’t take the leap. Not even for her.
“You’re right, Ryan. I do want that. And I’m ready to risk everything to have it. I’d even risk losing you.”
I can’t do that, Christine. I could never stand losing you.
I lift my gaze and let her words pierce through me.
“I want a forever, or I don’t want anything.”
And that’s how it really ends for me and her.
In the worst way possible.
It ends with me shuffling out the door and heading down the stairs. It ends with me getting into my car and driving away, just like I always do. It ends with my trying to hold back my tears, to suppress the pain that has come back to suffocate me. It’s a different pain: more intense, more oppressive. The type of pain that won’t let you breathe, won’t loosen its grip on you.
And the pain that you inflict on other people hurts you even more: especially when they expected more from you. Then they look at you with eyes that tell you that they’ve finally realised that you’re not worth it. That you’re not the man they thought you were. That you’re not the man for her.
I’ve caused so much pain to the only person who’s capable of loving me silently, without asking too much of me. I left her in that same silence.
The person I tried with all my might not to love, who will hate me with all of hers.
76
Ryan
I’m sitting at the bar in The Bridge, gripping a half-empty pint glass, as Jamie comes and sits himself down next to me.
“She didn’t come to the match today,” he says, barely masking his curiosity.
“You’re observant.”
“Have you fucked it up again?”
“Of course,” I say, taking a sip that I can’t quite swallow.
“What happened?”
“Do you really think I want to talk about it?”
“Well, you have Everyone fuck off written in block capitals across your forehead, so I think that’s a clear indication.”
“So why don’t you fuck off, then?”
“Because I’m Jamie.”
I glance at him.
“I never abandon anyone.”
“We’re not on the field.”
“I don’t abandon anyone off the field either: definitely not a teammate or a friend.”
“Maybe this time it’d be better if you just dropped it, Jamie.”
“I never drop anything.”
I smile, despite myself.
“Don’t count on me for anything. You’ll only be disappointed.”
“I already am counting on you. And, so far, I haven’t regretted it.”
“It didn’t go that badly.”
“I’m not talking about the match.”
“Maybe you should just stick to being the captain.”
“I can’t. All my other talents would be wasted.”
Jamie makes me smile – an impossible task these past few days.
“Come on, I’ll give you another chance, and you have to tell me everything in return.”
“There isn’t much to say. I just did what I do best: I hurt her.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s the only way I know how to defend myself.”
“Not all women are the same, you know.”
“What the fuck would you know?”
“Oh, Ryan… I think all those muscles are getting in the way of your brain. Do you have muscles up there, too?”
“Fuck off, Jamie.”
“There’s someone, that one person, for all of us. Sometimes we find them on the first go, sometimes we spend our whole lives trying to find them: and we never do. Sometimes they walk right in front of us and we don’t even glance at them. But, usually, they’re right under our nose: and we let them get away.”
“Wow, you’re so wise…”
“Sometimes we think we’ve found them, then when things go wrong, we stop looking for the right person. She wasn’t your person, Ryan. You weren’t destined for each other.”
“I don’t believe in any of that shit.”
“But life has dropped someone else in front of you. And even though you’ve tried to ignore it, and covered your ears with your hands…she came into your life anyway. Right here.” He points at my chest. “And once she’s inside, mate, there’s no way of getting her out.”
“What the hell do you know? You’ve barely even seen her!”
“I don’t have to see her, or know her. I just had to see you, the moment you started to believe again. I just have to look at you now, trying so hard to go back to not believing. And you’re failing, Ryan. Miserably.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’ve met your person. And now you can choose to pretend it never happened – pretend you don’t think about her every fucking day, that you’re not drowning in your own sense of pride. You can lie to everyone else, but not to yourself. You know that she’s the one. You just have to take matters into your own hands this time, without letting her get away.”
“You don’t get it, Jamie. She’s such a…woman.”
“And what are you?”
“I’m just a little boy.”
He places a hand firmly on my shoulder.
“You stopped being a little boy the day I saw the fear in your eyes when you realised you could lose her. That day, Ryan, you became a man. A man who, every so often, disguises himself as a spoilt, angry kid – but those shoes are getting a little too small for you now.”
“You sound like my brothers.”
Jamie smiles. “I’m not an O’Connor, but I know that you guys don’t like losing, and that you love a challenge.”
“Yeah.”
“So, mate – are you ready for this challenge?”
77
Chris
I’m sitting on the swinging bench in my garden, a glass of wine in my hand and tears pouring from my heart. I’ve started to come out here a lot in the evenings, every time I miss him so much that I want to cry – and out here, Evan can’t hear my sobs.
He didn’t really ask me anything about why Ryan had gone, just like he never did when Ryan was here. He just understood: he saw the empty spot on the sofa and filled it himself, just like he always has. I don’t want Evan to do that for me. He’s my son, my whole life, but he shouldn’t have to stand in for a man that will never be coming back. Maybe it’s just supposed to be the two of us. Or, should I say, just me – Evan’s growing up fast, and soon he’ll want to get as far away from this house as possible.
I hadn’t ever really thought about those things. Sure, Ryan being here made me hope that there could be a future for us. One day, I’d love to extend my family: but that doesn’t mean anything. I never tried to force him into anything he wasn’t ready for.
Instead, Ryan decided to take his chances. He decided not to see where this thing could’ve taken us. He ended it right away, before there could be a tomorrow for either of us.
I hug myself on the bench, startin
g to feel the evening chill, when a warm blanket appears over my legs.
“You’ll catch something if you keep spending every night out here,” Evan says, standing in front of me. “The café’ll be open again in a few days, and you don’t want to be ill for that.”
“Thanks, honey.”
He sits down next to me and pushes his legs, swinging us both.
“I’m sorry, Mum.”
He takes my hand and squeezes it. “I don’t like what he did to you.”
“He didn’t do anything, he just left. Like he should’ve.”
“I don’t like that he made you feel so… I’m not used to seeing you like this.”
“It’ll pass. He’s not the first man to break my heart.”
“You’ve never cried over a man before.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do. But you cry every night over him, out here, when you think I can’t hear you. And then you keep crying even when you’ve gone to bed. But I can hear you. And I don’t like it. I feel like going to his and breaking his face, but I’m scared that he’d hit me ten times harder. I want to hug you and tell you it’ll get better, without you pretending that everything’s fine. Because it’s not fine, Mum. Nothing’s fine.”
I nestle into his shoulder and let the tears fall.
“I don’t want to see you cry.”
“It’s not exactly nice for me either, but it’s just for a second, okay? I’ll be fine soon.”
“You promise?”
“I promise,” I say, making one of those promises that I know I’ll never keep.
I won’t be okay, and it definitely won’t be soon. Or maybe it will, for everyone else. For Evan. I’ll be fine – I’ll hide behind one of my big smiles, and no one will realise that it’s fake. Because the only person who’s able to see through them is the one person who took them away.
78
Ryan
I’m sitting at the dinner table with my family, staring at the plate in front of me. I haven’t got the strength to eat. I can hear them talking as if they’re in the distance, making jokes, asking questions. But I don’t pay them any attention. I sit there, closed off, barricaded inside myself for fear that something could hurt me even more.
