The Cad and the Co-Ed
Page 47
And where was I?
This thought made breathing difficult, but I owned it. I owned the discomfort. I deserved it for every shitty, selfish decision I’d made.
And after I wallowed for a minute, I left my car and the sense of unworthiness behind me. Patrick was my son. Eilish was his mother. I hadn’t deserved them five years ago, but damn if I wasn’t going to do everything in my power to deserve their trust now.
They were already inside when I made my way down the hall to her door, where Sean was waiting for me in the hallway. I paused and eyed him.
“You did very well today,” he said, arms folded across his chest as he surveyed me.
“Happy to hear you approve,” I deadpanned and made to move by him. He got in my way.
“I hope you’ll continue this good behavior,” he went on, and if I wasn’t mistaken, I thought he might be enjoying this. “I wouldn’t want to have to escort you off the premises.”
I shot him a wry look. “Like you could.”
“I’m bigger than you.”
I scoffed. “By about an inch.”
“Inches matter,” he shrugged, “or so I’ve been told.”
Ignoring this statement, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Look, I’ve no intention of doing anything to upset Eilish or Patrick. I know I’m a lucky bugger to even be in this situation, so believe me when I say I’ll be on my best behavior.”
Now his lips twitched, like he was trying to hold in a smile. “See that you do.”
Finally, he let me pass. As soon as I entered the room I was struck by how cozy it was. It smelled like Eilish, like watermelon, like summer, like home.
God, I really needed to get a handle on this obsession I had with her. Maybe she was interested in me solely as the father of her son, nothing else. Nothing romantic.
Then again, maybe not.
She’d been the one to kiss me last month, hadn’t she? That was something.
But I couldn’t be freaking her out, not when my desire to know and be around Patrick had grown so quickly into a physical need.
Much like it was to be close to Eilish.
Speaking of, I’d been torturing myself for days trying to remember our night together, but all I got were brief flashes, nothing concrete. I rewound to Ronan and Annie’s wedding, but remembered hardly anything. I could barely even remember arriving at the ceremony. It was so fucked up.
Correction: I’d been so fucked up.
But I wasn’t anymore.
Still, I caught phantom images of red hair and pale, silky skin in my mind, but I couldn’t tell if they were real memories or just my brain showing me what I wanted to see. I was dying to ask her. Maybe if she could recount how we met it would help me remember. It felt important that I did, but there was no way to broach the subject, not with things so tentative between us, and definitely not with Sean hanging around to supervise.
Eilish was puttering about in the kitchen when I turned back to Sean. “By the way, we need to talk.”
“Yes, we will. Later.” He lifted his chin,
then nodded soberly, understanding in his eyes.
I nodded back and then went into the living room to join Patrick. Sean went into the kitchen and I could hear both he and Eilish conducting a hushed conversation. I wondered what they were discussing. Me, most likely. Patrick seemed completely unaware of the tension, and I happily let myself fall into his obliviousness for a while.
About twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door. I discreetly leaned forward to peek out the window and saw a youngish guy standing outside the door. He was average height with light blond hair that was attempting a man bun. I say “attempting” because it wasn’t yet long enough to be tied up, and so formed a sort of nub at the top of his head. It also looked as though he was cultivating a beard, but his facial hair was too light to achieve the full effect.
Now who the hell was this nob-jockey?
Eilish’s light footsteps sounded down the hall. I strained my ears to listen when she answered the door.
“Trevor. What are you doing here?” she breathed.
“Eilish, hey. You look great. I just wanted to drop by and grab that copy of Iron Man I loaned you.”
There was a short moment of silence and Eilish lowered her voice. “Right, yes, I’ll just go get it for you. Wait here.”
“Can I come in?”
“No. I mean, now’s not a good time,” she replied, her voice strained.
Man, this wasn’t her boyfriend, was it? My protective instincts kicked in, or was it my possessive instincts? She didn’t sound too happy that he’d come by. Before I could think things through, I was up and stepping into the small entryway, closing the door to the living room firmly behind me.
“Eilish, is everything all right?” I asked, furrowing my brow at Man-Bun. He straightened when he saw me and gave me a quick sweep up and down, his mouth forming a tight line of displeasure.
“Yes, everything is fine. Trevor just stopped by to collect a film I borrowed from him.”
I shot Trevor a hard look. “Is that right?”
He was practically scowling at me now. “Yeah, I’m her boyfrie—”
“Ex-boyfriend,” Eilish cut in.
Well, there it was, my worst fears confirmed. Eilish was a million times too good for this loser. I mean, how did he even manage to score her? The bloke looked like he could fall into a barrel of tit and come out sucking his thumb. Did she have low self-esteem?
Okay, so maybe I was judging him prematurely. After all, I didn’t know him. But come on, all evidence pointed to nob-jockey man-child territory.
This thought made breathing difficult, but I owned it. I owned the discomfort. I deserved it for every shitty, selfish decision I’d made.
And after I wallowed for a minute, I left my car and the sense of unworthiness behind me. Patrick was my son. Eilish was his mother. I hadn’t deserved them five years ago, but damn if I wasn’t going to do everything in my power to deserve their trust now.
They were already inside when I made my way down the hall to her door, where Sean was waiting for me in the hallway. I paused and eyed him.
“You did very well today,” he said, arms folded across his chest as he surveyed me.
“Happy to hear you approve,” I deadpanned and made to move by him. He got in my way.
“I hope you’ll continue this good behavior,” he went on, and if I wasn’t mistaken, I thought he might be enjoying this. “I wouldn’t want to have to escort you off the premises.”
I shot him a wry look. “Like you could.”
“I’m bigger than you.”
I scoffed. “By about an inch.”
“Inches matter,” he shrugged, “or so I’ve been told.”
Ignoring this statement, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Look, I’ve no intention of doing anything to upset Eilish or Patrick. I know I’m a lucky bugger to even be in this situation, so believe me when I say I’ll be on my best behavior.”
Now his lips twitched, like he was trying to hold in a smile. “See that you do.”
Finally, he let me pass. As soon as I entered the room I was struck by how cozy it was. It smelled like Eilish, like watermelon, like summer, like home.
God, I really needed to get a handle on this obsession I had with her. Maybe she was interested in me solely as the father of her son, nothing else. Nothing romantic.
Then again, maybe not.
She’d been the one to kiss me last month, hadn’t she? That was something.
But I couldn’t be freaking her out, not when my desire to know and be around Patrick had grown so quickly into a physical need.
Much like it was to be close to Eilish.
Speaking of, I’d been torturing myself for days trying to remember our night together, but all I got were brief flashes, nothing concrete. I rewound to Ronan and Annie’s wedding, but remembered hardly anything. I could barely even remember arriving at the ceremony. It was so fucked up.
Correction: I’d been so fucked up.
But I wasn’t anymore.
Still, I caught phantom images of red hair and pale, silky skin in my mind, but I couldn’t tell if they were real memories or just my brain showing me what I wanted to see. I was dying to ask her. Maybe if she could recount how we met it would help me remember. It felt important that I did, but there was no way to broach the subject, not with things so tentative between us, and definitely not with Sean hanging around to supervise.
Eilish was puttering about in the kitchen when I turned back to Sean. “By the way, we need to talk.”
“Yes, we will. Later.” He lifted his chin,
then nodded soberly, understanding in his eyes.
I nodded back and then went into the living room to join Patrick. Sean went into the kitchen and I could hear both he and Eilish conducting a hushed conversation. I wondered what they were discussing. Me, most likely. Patrick seemed completely unaware of the tension, and I happily let myself fall into his obliviousness for a while.
About twenty minutes later, there was a knock on the door. I discreetly leaned forward to peek out the window and saw a youngish guy standing outside the door. He was average height with light blond hair that was attempting a man bun. I say “attempting” because it wasn’t yet long enough to be tied up, and so formed a sort of nub at the top of his head. It also looked as though he was cultivating a beard, but his facial hair was too light to achieve the full effect.
Now who the hell was this nob-jockey?
Eilish’s light footsteps sounded down the hall. I strained my ears to listen when she answered the door.
“Trevor. What are you doing here?” she breathed.
“Eilish, hey. You look great. I just wanted to drop by and grab that copy of Iron Man I loaned you.”
There was a short moment of silence and Eilish lowered her voice. “Right, yes, I’ll just go get it for you. Wait here.”
“Can I come in?”
“No. I mean, now’s not a good time,” she replied, her voice strained.
Man, this wasn’t her boyfriend, was it? My protective instincts kicked in, or was it my possessive instincts? She didn’t sound too happy that he’d come by. Before I could think things through, I was up and stepping into the small entryway, closing the door to the living room firmly behind me.
“Eilish, is everything all right?” I asked, furrowing my brow at Man-Bun. He straightened when he saw me and gave me a quick sweep up and down, his mouth forming a tight line of displeasure.
“Yes, everything is fine. Trevor just stopped by to collect a film I borrowed from him.”
I shot Trevor a hard look. “Is that right?”
He was practically scowling at me now. “Yeah, I’m her boyfrie—”
“Ex-boyfriend,” Eilish cut in.
Well, there it was, my worst fears confirmed. Eilish was a million times too good for this loser. I mean, how did he even manage to score her? The bloke looked like he could fall into a barrel of tit and come out sucking his thumb. Did she have low self-esteem?
Okay, so maybe I was judging him prematurely. After all, I didn’t know him. But come on, all evidence pointed to nob-jockey man-child territory.
