The Cad and the Co-Ed
Page 44
As much as I hoped Bryan’s definition of all in was my best-case scenario, there existed a very real possibility that he defined it quite differently.
“Thank you for coming,” I said, pushing him away and taking a step back.
Bryan didn’t quite release me, his hands still lingering on my upper arms as he shuffled a step forward, following me.
“Thank you for . . .” He didn’t finish, his bright green eyes moving over my face in a way that felt like too much.
Stiffening and straightening to my full height, I lifted my chin. “Let me go get Patrick. He’s right over there.”
Bryan turned, his gaze sweeping over the playground, and I watched his profile. I knew the exact moment his eyes found Patrick. Bryan’s expression became one of wonder.
And in that moment, I believed in love at first sight, because I’d just witnessed it.
I’d just witnessed a man fall head over heels in love with his own son.
“C-come on, I’ll introduce you,” I said after a prolonged moment of quiet, my voice shaky. This was just too surreal.
I led the way to where Patrick was again climbing the ladder to go down the slide.
“Mummy, look at me,” he said as he crested the top, then sailed down with a delighted wheeee. We came to this park often, and I’d already taught him the safe way to use the slide countless times. Still, Bryan looked a little concerned that he was using it without supervision, and there was a part of me that approved of his worry.
“He’s been on this slide before. It’s safe,” I told him quietly, and he turned to look at me. He didn’t say anything, only nodded, then brought his rapt attention back to Patrick. He looked fascinated.
Patrick stared up at him, not a shy bone in his body. I guessed he got that from his father.
“Who are you?”
Bryan went down on one knee and gave him the widest, brightest, most loving smile I’d ever seen. It sort of held every part of me hostage for a moment, and I started having all these . . . feelings.
No. NO. NOOOO!
FEELINGS ARE NOT ALLOWED.
I clenched my teeth, willing the untidy feelings away. Now was not the time for messy feelings. The middle of the night was the time, when night cheese and sardines and newly purchased chocolate bars were close at hand. Not. Now.
“I’m Bryan. I’m . . .” he hesitated, seemingly swallowing with some difficulty before finishing, “I’m a friend of your mummy.”
My attention wandered between the two of them, the similarity in their looks even more pronounced when they were side by side. More emotions. More teeth clenching. At this rate, I was in danger of breaking my jaw.
Patrick absentmindedly tugged on his hair as he surveyed the man before him. My heart beat fast, and I realized that, oddly enough, I wanted my son to like him. I wanted him to accept Bryan, for his sake as well as Bryan’s. Although the big, hulking rugby player was doing a good job of acting calm, I could tell how much he desperately wanted the same thing.
I grew up with a father in name only, and I didn’t want that for my son.
“My name’s Patrick. I’m almost five. Mummy told me you were coming,” Patrick answered casually, shrugging, and Bryan shot me a little grin.
“Oh yeah, what did she say about me?”
“That you’re her friend, and Monkey Sean’s, too.”
Bryan mouthed a questioning monkey? at me.
I laughed softly, some of the tension leaving my shoulders. “It’s how he says uncle, or uncie, I guess. I keep trying to teach him the right way but he’s dead set on monkey. Drives Sean up the wall.”
Bryan smiled. “I bet it does.”
“Well, secretly he loves it,” I rolled my eyes, “but he just won’t admit it.”
“Monkey Sean bought me a dickie bow,” said Patrick, and Bryan turned back to him.
“Somehow I’m not surprised.” Bryan chuckled, clearly enchanted.
“And a suit. All men need a suit,” Patrick went on, parroting Sean’s words. I laughed some more and it sounded a tad hysterical to my ears, but it also felt good. My cousin was determined to make a mini-Sean out of my son.
“Do you know how to play football?”
“I do.” Patrick’s eyes brightened.
“Want to play with me? Come on. Over here.”
Patrick was already off the slide, grabbing his ball, and making his way over to the grassy area before Bryan had the chance to respond. I laughed at Bryan’s dumbfounded expression and gestured for him to follow. Once he was gone, I stood there, watching as they kicked the ball to one another.
The scene looked so . . . right. Meant to be. I bit my top lip to keep my chin from wobbling and I released a sigh—half relief, half worry—and went back to join Sean over on the bench. I wanted to give them time without me hovering, time to know each other, build the foundation of their future relationship.
It was the right thing to do.
But walking back to Sean and trusting Bryan with my son was also the most difficult thing I’d ever done.
***
“Are you coming down with something?”
I pulled my attention away from where Bryan and Patrick were still playing football and glanced at my cousin. “No. I don’t think so. Why?”
Sean flashed a mischievous smile, then quickly suppressed it. “It’s just that your eyes are watery and you keep clearing your throat.”
I huffed a laugh, sniffling, blinking away new tears. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“Thank you for coming,” I said, pushing him away and taking a step back.
Bryan didn’t quite release me, his hands still lingering on my upper arms as he shuffled a step forward, following me.
“Thank you for . . .” He didn’t finish, his bright green eyes moving over my face in a way that felt like too much.
Stiffening and straightening to my full height, I lifted my chin. “Let me go get Patrick. He’s right over there.”
Bryan turned, his gaze sweeping over the playground, and I watched his profile. I knew the exact moment his eyes found Patrick. Bryan’s expression became one of wonder.
And in that moment, I believed in love at first sight, because I’d just witnessed it.
I’d just witnessed a man fall head over heels in love with his own son.
“C-come on, I’ll introduce you,” I said after a prolonged moment of quiet, my voice shaky. This was just too surreal.
I led the way to where Patrick was again climbing the ladder to go down the slide.
“Mummy, look at me,” he said as he crested the top, then sailed down with a delighted wheeee. We came to this park often, and I’d already taught him the safe way to use the slide countless times. Still, Bryan looked a little concerned that he was using it without supervision, and there was a part of me that approved of his worry.
“He’s been on this slide before. It’s safe,” I told him quietly, and he turned to look at me. He didn’t say anything, only nodded, then brought his rapt attention back to Patrick. He looked fascinated.
Patrick stared up at him, not a shy bone in his body. I guessed he got that from his father.
“Who are you?”
Bryan went down on one knee and gave him the widest, brightest, most loving smile I’d ever seen. It sort of held every part of me hostage for a moment, and I started having all these . . . feelings.
No. NO. NOOOO!
FEELINGS ARE NOT ALLOWED.
I clenched my teeth, willing the untidy feelings away. Now was not the time for messy feelings. The middle of the night was the time, when night cheese and sardines and newly purchased chocolate bars were close at hand. Not. Now.
“I’m Bryan. I’m . . .” he hesitated, seemingly swallowing with some difficulty before finishing, “I’m a friend of your mummy.”
My attention wandered between the two of them, the similarity in their looks even more pronounced when they were side by side. More emotions. More teeth clenching. At this rate, I was in danger of breaking my jaw.
Patrick absentmindedly tugged on his hair as he surveyed the man before him. My heart beat fast, and I realized that, oddly enough, I wanted my son to like him. I wanted him to accept Bryan, for his sake as well as Bryan’s. Although the big, hulking rugby player was doing a good job of acting calm, I could tell how much he desperately wanted the same thing.
I grew up with a father in name only, and I didn’t want that for my son.
“My name’s Patrick. I’m almost five. Mummy told me you were coming,” Patrick answered casually, shrugging, and Bryan shot me a little grin.
“Oh yeah, what did she say about me?”
“That you’re her friend, and Monkey Sean’s, too.”
Bryan mouthed a questioning monkey? at me.
I laughed softly, some of the tension leaving my shoulders. “It’s how he says uncle, or uncie, I guess. I keep trying to teach him the right way but he’s dead set on monkey. Drives Sean up the wall.”
Bryan smiled. “I bet it does.”
“Well, secretly he loves it,” I rolled my eyes, “but he just won’t admit it.”
“Monkey Sean bought me a dickie bow,” said Patrick, and Bryan turned back to him.
“Somehow I’m not surprised.” Bryan chuckled, clearly enchanted.
“And a suit. All men need a suit,” Patrick went on, parroting Sean’s words. I laughed some more and it sounded a tad hysterical to my ears, but it also felt good. My cousin was determined to make a mini-Sean out of my son.
“Do you know how to play football?”
“I do.” Patrick’s eyes brightened.
“Want to play with me? Come on. Over here.”
Patrick was already off the slide, grabbing his ball, and making his way over to the grassy area before Bryan had the chance to respond. I laughed at Bryan’s dumbfounded expression and gestured for him to follow. Once he was gone, I stood there, watching as they kicked the ball to one another.
The scene looked so . . . right. Meant to be. I bit my top lip to keep my chin from wobbling and I released a sigh—half relief, half worry—and went back to join Sean over on the bench. I wanted to give them time without me hovering, time to know each other, build the foundation of their future relationship.
It was the right thing to do.
But walking back to Sean and trusting Bryan with my son was also the most difficult thing I’d ever done.
***
“Are you coming down with something?”
I pulled my attention away from where Bryan and Patrick were still playing football and glanced at my cousin. “No. I don’t think so. Why?”
Sean flashed a mischievous smile, then quickly suppressed it. “It’s just that your eyes are watery and you keep clearing your throat.”
I huffed a laugh, sniffling, blinking away new tears. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
