The Cad and the Co-Ed
Page 41
She cleared her throat. “Obviously, I understand you’ll need definitive proof, considering the circumstances.” She paused and pushed the box across the table. “I brought a small lock of Patrick’s hair, if you’d like to have a DNA test done. Or, if you prefer, we can arrange to have a blood sample taken with you present, so you can witness the whole thing.”
I wasn’t sure how to feel about the fact that she’d brought it along even before I asked. Maybe she thought I’d be suspicious, but I wasn’t. Not one bit. I still didn’t entirely understand it myself.
Without speaking, I opened the box and glanced inside, where a small lock of hair sat on a piece of cotton wool. My chest clenched and I shut the box. I didn’t know what to say, didn’t really want to discuss it, so I simply dropped it inside my coat pocket and returned my attention to her.
“When can I meet him?”
She started fiddling with her torn napkin pieces again. I felt like shoving them all aside so she had no choice but to focus on me.
“When would you like to?”
“We don’t have any training this weekend,” I suggested. “I could meet up with you both somewhere you feel comfortable. You can even bring Sean along.”
“Oh, yes, that’s a good idea. Um, may I have your phone number please? I’ll talk to Sean and touch base with you regarding the details.”
Suddenly, the atmosphere changed, grew more formal, like she’d thrown a wall up. I didn’t like it. I also didn’t like the fact that my teammate had obviously known I had a kid all this time and never told me. It was different with Eilish. She didn’t know me. But Sean knew I was a changed man—reliable, responsible, trustworthy—and he’d still kept it secret. One look at the boy and he would’ve known he was mine.
Yep, Sean Cassidy and I were going to have some serious words when the time came.
After we exchanged phone numbers, the waiter arrived with the bill. We both reached for it, her hands closing over mine.
“Please,” she wiggled her fingers, trying to pull the check away from me, “please let me pay for dinner.”
I wanted to say NO FUCKING WAY!
Instead, I said, “That’s not necessary.”
Her grip tightened, and something rigid entered her tone. “I insist.”
I huffed a laugh and shook my head. “It’s no big deal.”
“It is a big deal.” Her voice was like granite, her eyes stony and serious. “It’s a big deal to me. Patrick is your son, and my hopes are for the two of you. But I . . . I don’t want anything from you, Bryan.”
I flinched, frowning at her, again feeling like I’d just been punched in the stomach. This last statement clearly referred to more than just dinner.
She didn’t want anything from me.
The sudden sinking sensation in my chest caught me unawares, pushed me off balance, and she took advantage of my stunned surprise. Eilish tugged the check from my grip, slipped cash into the sleeve, and held it out to the waiter as he passed.
“Keep the change.” She gave him a tight smile, then moved her gaze back to mine, but she might as well have been gazing at me from behind an impenetrable fortress. Her walls were up, and they were very, very high.
I reached for her. “Eilish—”
“I can find my own way home,” she said firmly, adding as she stood from the booth, “I honestly can’t thank you enough for being so gracious and civil. The secret was weighing on me. I just want what’s best for Patrick. I appreciate how sensible and rational you’ve been, and I hope all our future interactions will continue in this vein.”
Giving me another small smile that felt excessively businesslike, she turned and quickly picked her way through the tables, disappearing through the front door, leaving me staring after her.
Civil?
Sensible?
Rational?
The fuck?
I breathed out the gust of air she’d knocked from my lungs, discontent warring with a dawning sense of determination.
She didn’t want anything from me?
Well, that was just too damn bad.
She was the mother of my child, for Christ’s sake.
I sucked in another breath, reality having both a sobering and intoxicating effect.
I had a son.
Amazing.
Incredible.
Chapter Twelve
ECassChoosesPikachu to JoseyInHeels: Lunch? Today? Please? #Emergency
*Eilish*
“Shite.”
“I know.”
“I can’t believe you told him.”
“I know.”
Josey stared at me from across the café table, her features ripe with astonishment. I’d called her that morning, the day after my dinner with Bryan, and told her the news. I’d confessed the truth about Patrick over chicken wings and Coke.
She insisted on meeting for lunch, so here we were. Meeting. For lunch.
Except neither of us were eating our tacos. I’d just related the entire story of my dinner with Bryan, and she was clearly too agitated to eat.
“And he wasn’t upset?” she asked for the third time, her face scrunching.
“No. Like I said, it was so bizarre. He wasn’t at all upset.”
Her face scrunched further, wrinkling her nose and the space between her eyebrows. “He wants to be a father?”
“Yes.” I laughed the word, still in shock. “Or, at least he doesn’t seem to be opposed to it.”
Her features smoothed and she gathered a deep breath, her eyes moving over the table. “He’s what? Thirty-five? He’s probably ready to have kids.”
I wasn’t sure how to feel about the fact that she’d brought it along even before I asked. Maybe she thought I’d be suspicious, but I wasn’t. Not one bit. I still didn’t entirely understand it myself.
Without speaking, I opened the box and glanced inside, where a small lock of hair sat on a piece of cotton wool. My chest clenched and I shut the box. I didn’t know what to say, didn’t really want to discuss it, so I simply dropped it inside my coat pocket and returned my attention to her.
“When can I meet him?”
She started fiddling with her torn napkin pieces again. I felt like shoving them all aside so she had no choice but to focus on me.
“When would you like to?”
“We don’t have any training this weekend,” I suggested. “I could meet up with you both somewhere you feel comfortable. You can even bring Sean along.”
“Oh, yes, that’s a good idea. Um, may I have your phone number please? I’ll talk to Sean and touch base with you regarding the details.”
Suddenly, the atmosphere changed, grew more formal, like she’d thrown a wall up. I didn’t like it. I also didn’t like the fact that my teammate had obviously known I had a kid all this time and never told me. It was different with Eilish. She didn’t know me. But Sean knew I was a changed man—reliable, responsible, trustworthy—and he’d still kept it secret. One look at the boy and he would’ve known he was mine.
Yep, Sean Cassidy and I were going to have some serious words when the time came.
After we exchanged phone numbers, the waiter arrived with the bill. We both reached for it, her hands closing over mine.
“Please,” she wiggled her fingers, trying to pull the check away from me, “please let me pay for dinner.”
I wanted to say NO FUCKING WAY!
Instead, I said, “That’s not necessary.”
Her grip tightened, and something rigid entered her tone. “I insist.”
I huffed a laugh and shook my head. “It’s no big deal.”
“It is a big deal.” Her voice was like granite, her eyes stony and serious. “It’s a big deal to me. Patrick is your son, and my hopes are for the two of you. But I . . . I don’t want anything from you, Bryan.”
I flinched, frowning at her, again feeling like I’d just been punched in the stomach. This last statement clearly referred to more than just dinner.
She didn’t want anything from me.
The sudden sinking sensation in my chest caught me unawares, pushed me off balance, and she took advantage of my stunned surprise. Eilish tugged the check from my grip, slipped cash into the sleeve, and held it out to the waiter as he passed.
“Keep the change.” She gave him a tight smile, then moved her gaze back to mine, but she might as well have been gazing at me from behind an impenetrable fortress. Her walls were up, and they were very, very high.
I reached for her. “Eilish—”
“I can find my own way home,” she said firmly, adding as she stood from the booth, “I honestly can’t thank you enough for being so gracious and civil. The secret was weighing on me. I just want what’s best for Patrick. I appreciate how sensible and rational you’ve been, and I hope all our future interactions will continue in this vein.”
Giving me another small smile that felt excessively businesslike, she turned and quickly picked her way through the tables, disappearing through the front door, leaving me staring after her.
Civil?
Sensible?
Rational?
The fuck?
I breathed out the gust of air she’d knocked from my lungs, discontent warring with a dawning sense of determination.
She didn’t want anything from me?
Well, that was just too damn bad.
She was the mother of my child, for Christ’s sake.
I sucked in another breath, reality having both a sobering and intoxicating effect.
I had a son.
Amazing.
Incredible.
Chapter Twelve
ECassChoosesPikachu to JoseyInHeels: Lunch? Today? Please? #Emergency
*Eilish*
“Shite.”
“I know.”
“I can’t believe you told him.”
“I know.”
Josey stared at me from across the café table, her features ripe with astonishment. I’d called her that morning, the day after my dinner with Bryan, and told her the news. I’d confessed the truth about Patrick over chicken wings and Coke.
She insisted on meeting for lunch, so here we were. Meeting. For lunch.
Except neither of us were eating our tacos. I’d just related the entire story of my dinner with Bryan, and she was clearly too agitated to eat.
“And he wasn’t upset?” she asked for the third time, her face scrunching.
“No. Like I said, it was so bizarre. He wasn’t at all upset.”
Her face scrunched further, wrinkling her nose and the space between her eyebrows. “He wants to be a father?”
“Yes.” I laughed the word, still in shock. “Or, at least he doesn’t seem to be opposed to it.”
Her features smoothed and she gathered a deep breath, her eyes moving over the table. “He’s what? Thirty-five? He’s probably ready to have kids.”
