The Cad and the Co-Ed
Page 39
“You’re right. I will. I’ll be smart,” I told her finally. “I need to go back out and talk to Eilish now. I’ll call you later and let you know how things go.”
“Yes, call me. And good luck,” she replied.
After we hung up, I emerged from the cubicle and went to splash some water over my face to compose myself. I knew if I went out there with a big psycho grin on my face I was only going to freak Eilish out. I needed to chill, act as normal as possible.
But what was normal in this kind of situation? Hell if I knew.
When I walked back out into the restaurant, she was still sitting at the table. She hadn’t touched her food and there were dozens of tiny pieces of tissue paper on the table from a napkin she’d torn to shreds. She was obviously anxious as hell, and I felt bad for just leaving her there. I slid into the booth and she glanced up, looking relieved to see me, yet still cautious.
“You came back,” she breathed, eyes flickering over me in concern.
I ran my hand through my hair. “Yeah I, uh, just needed a minute to get my head around everything.”
Eilish nodded shakily. “Understandable.”
A silence fell and I struggled with what to say first. The waiter, clearly having noticed we hadn’t touched our food, chose that moment to make an appearance.
“Is everything okay? Can I get you anything else?”
“We’re fine, thank you,” I told him, and he quietly retreated.
“Listen I—”
“It’s okay if—”
We both spoke at once, cutting each other off.
“Sorry. You go first,” she offered. “And I totally get it if you hate me right now.”
I frowned at her. “Of course I don’t hate you. Why would I?”
“B-b-b . . .” She closed her eyes, breathed in and out, then started again, slower this time. “Because I’ve kept this a secret from you for so long. I was young and frightened, and I had this idea of you as this wild, uncontrollable party animal. That’s not an excuse. It’s just, I didn’t think you’d want anything to do with me or the baby. It may sound ludicrous, but I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Eilish, I was a wild, uncontrollable party animal, and I’m not saying it was the right thing to do, but I understand why you didn’t tell me. Fucking hell, I don’t even remember our night together.” I paused for a moment, the lovely reality of that fact sinking in.
My eyes moved over this woman in front of me, this gorgeous, intelligent woman. I’d had her. I’d had her and I didn’t even remember. This new knowledge was a special kind of hell.
Her eyes lowered and pink stained her cheeks. She looked uncomfortable. Actually, she looked mortified.
“Eilish . . .” I started clumsily, but what the fuck was I going to say? How do you apologize for sleeping with someone and not remembering?
Sorry, darling. I’m sure you were great, but I was too shitfaced for it to make an impression.
Christ. I was an arsehole.
Then again, I did have flashes, strange moments of déjà vu. She’d seemed so familiar, small memories of red hair and pale skin. Perhaps I wasn’t such a forgetful dick after all.
She waved me away, a brittle smile claiming her features and a flash of unmistakable pain dulling her eyes. “It’s not important.” She cleared her throat, setting her teeth. When she returned her eyes to mine they were cooler, withdrawn, disinterested in a way that looked like self-preservation, and I felt the difference like a blow to the stomach. It was a look I recognized. Only now I understood why she used it on me.
“Patrick is important. We should focus on him.” Her tone was firm and dispassionate.
“Yes. Of course. But I’m just saying, the way I acted is hardly a glowing recommendation for fatherhood.” I sought to soften her. “If anything, it’s my own fault I’ve missed out on all these years with . . . with Patrick. The person I was back then didn’t deserve a kid.”
“I should’ve told you.” She shook her head, the line of her jaw stubborn.
“You’re telling me now.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why are you being so . . . so reasonable about all this?”
I smiled. “Because I’m a fairly reasonable bloke.”
“But you’re making me feel worse. The least you could do is shout at me, call me a few names. I deserve it.” Her face crumpled as though she might cry, but then I watched as steel and resolve forced back the tide of emotion. Holy shit, behind all the nervousness this girl was strong.
I respected that strength and was drawn to it in a way I didn’t entirely understand.
Acting on instinct, I reached across the table and took both of her hands in mine. She was still working on obliterating her napkin into tiny pieces, but they fell away. She sucked in a breath at the contact. Holding her soft, delicate hands in mine felt right. It felt so fucking right.
“I don’t blame you, Eilish, so stop beating yourself up. This was a rough situation for anyone to be in, let alone a teenager. And it was my fault for going after you in the first place. You were way too young, but I was obviously too shitfaced to realize or care.”
She shook her head now. “It’s not like you forced yourself on me. I . . .” she paused, the blush deepening over her cheeks, “I wanted it.”
Something in my chest unfurled. My voice was low when I spoke. “Really?”
“Yes, call me. And good luck,” she replied.
After we hung up, I emerged from the cubicle and went to splash some water over my face to compose myself. I knew if I went out there with a big psycho grin on my face I was only going to freak Eilish out. I needed to chill, act as normal as possible.
But what was normal in this kind of situation? Hell if I knew.
When I walked back out into the restaurant, she was still sitting at the table. She hadn’t touched her food and there were dozens of tiny pieces of tissue paper on the table from a napkin she’d torn to shreds. She was obviously anxious as hell, and I felt bad for just leaving her there. I slid into the booth and she glanced up, looking relieved to see me, yet still cautious.
“You came back,” she breathed, eyes flickering over me in concern.
I ran my hand through my hair. “Yeah I, uh, just needed a minute to get my head around everything.”
Eilish nodded shakily. “Understandable.”
A silence fell and I struggled with what to say first. The waiter, clearly having noticed we hadn’t touched our food, chose that moment to make an appearance.
“Is everything okay? Can I get you anything else?”
“We’re fine, thank you,” I told him, and he quietly retreated.
“Listen I—”
“It’s okay if—”
We both spoke at once, cutting each other off.
“Sorry. You go first,” she offered. “And I totally get it if you hate me right now.”
I frowned at her. “Of course I don’t hate you. Why would I?”
“B-b-b . . .” She closed her eyes, breathed in and out, then started again, slower this time. “Because I’ve kept this a secret from you for so long. I was young and frightened, and I had this idea of you as this wild, uncontrollable party animal. That’s not an excuse. It’s just, I didn’t think you’d want anything to do with me or the baby. It may sound ludicrous, but I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Eilish, I was a wild, uncontrollable party animal, and I’m not saying it was the right thing to do, but I understand why you didn’t tell me. Fucking hell, I don’t even remember our night together.” I paused for a moment, the lovely reality of that fact sinking in.
My eyes moved over this woman in front of me, this gorgeous, intelligent woman. I’d had her. I’d had her and I didn’t even remember. This new knowledge was a special kind of hell.
Her eyes lowered and pink stained her cheeks. She looked uncomfortable. Actually, she looked mortified.
“Eilish . . .” I started clumsily, but what the fuck was I going to say? How do you apologize for sleeping with someone and not remembering?
Sorry, darling. I’m sure you were great, but I was too shitfaced for it to make an impression.
Christ. I was an arsehole.
Then again, I did have flashes, strange moments of déjà vu. She’d seemed so familiar, small memories of red hair and pale skin. Perhaps I wasn’t such a forgetful dick after all.
She waved me away, a brittle smile claiming her features and a flash of unmistakable pain dulling her eyes. “It’s not important.” She cleared her throat, setting her teeth. When she returned her eyes to mine they were cooler, withdrawn, disinterested in a way that looked like self-preservation, and I felt the difference like a blow to the stomach. It was a look I recognized. Only now I understood why she used it on me.
“Patrick is important. We should focus on him.” Her tone was firm and dispassionate.
“Yes. Of course. But I’m just saying, the way I acted is hardly a glowing recommendation for fatherhood.” I sought to soften her. “If anything, it’s my own fault I’ve missed out on all these years with . . . with Patrick. The person I was back then didn’t deserve a kid.”
“I should’ve told you.” She shook her head, the line of her jaw stubborn.
“You’re telling me now.”
Her brow furrowed. “Why are you being so . . . so reasonable about all this?”
I smiled. “Because I’m a fairly reasonable bloke.”
“But you’re making me feel worse. The least you could do is shout at me, call me a few names. I deserve it.” Her face crumpled as though she might cry, but then I watched as steel and resolve forced back the tide of emotion. Holy shit, behind all the nervousness this girl was strong.
I respected that strength and was drawn to it in a way I didn’t entirely understand.
Acting on instinct, I reached across the table and took both of her hands in mine. She was still working on obliterating her napkin into tiny pieces, but they fell away. She sucked in a breath at the contact. Holding her soft, delicate hands in mine felt right. It felt so fucking right.
“I don’t blame you, Eilish, so stop beating yourself up. This was a rough situation for anyone to be in, let alone a teenager. And it was my fault for going after you in the first place. You were way too young, but I was obviously too shitfaced to realize or care.”
She shook her head now. “It’s not like you forced yourself on me. I . . .” she paused, the blush deepening over her cheeks, “I wanted it.”
Something in my chest unfurled. My voice was low when I spoke. “Really?”
