"Because I don't want to leave you alone, Renner. You're under my skin, and it's an itch I mean to scratch."
Renner surprises me when she sits down across the table from me. "Look, Cillian. I don't understand why you're pursuing me. There's plenty of other women out there. You certainly had no problem finding someone else to kiss after me five years ago, I'm sure you can do it again."
Bells go off in my head. "You saw me kissing someone else after I kissed you, did you? And you're mad about it."
She scoffs at me. "Of course, I'm not mad about that. I barely remember your kiss."
"Then why bring it up at all?"
"Because I'm trying to make the point that there's nothing special about me. Move on."
I lean forward across the table. "Aaaahhh. But there is something special about you, Renner. Five years ago, you told me no. No girl had ever done that before, nor since. It sort of makes you stand out."
Her eyes narrow at me. "Shouldn't this be the part where you tell me that kissing that other girl didn't mean anything, that I was the only one on your mind the entire time?"
My insides squirm a bit because it's truth time and I hope it doesn't hurt too much when I lay it on her. "Renner...I was nineteen years old then. I was young, stupid and perpetually horny. I'd be lying to you if I told you I hesitated before moving on to that girl. But hold these words as true...I've thought about you plenty over the years, and you're all that's on my mind now."
Her face goes a little pale at my admission and I'm sure I've harmed my own cause by telling her that. I expect her to get up from the table and storm off. Instead, she takes a deep breath and looks at me with such seriousness, my breath catches. "Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. I'd be more than happy to be your friend, but that's all it will be. I'm just not interested in you in any other way."
I lean forward a bit closer, my face just as serious. "And I'm not interested in being your friend. You have Cady for that. No... I want something a bit different from you. And don't expect me to stop trying to get it."
She sighs and stands back up. "Whatever. I'm done trying to talk sense into you."
"Good. Because it's an absolute waste of your time to try to deter me. So, I'm ready to go whenever you are. And I'll see you home, safe and sound."
She wavers just a minute, and I can see that she's probably trying to come up with a really good curse to let loose. Then she deflates and turns away, stomping off to grab her purse from behind the bar.
CHAPTER 5
Renner
This is the fourth night in a row that Cillian has come in to eat dinner at The Hibernian. He always sits in my section and nurses a few beers. He eats his meal and either types on his laptop or scratches stuff on a pad of paper. Whatever he's writing, he gets very involved and has no clue what's going on around him.
Sometimes he'll peek up and look around the pub. His wandering gaze will stop when he finds me and makes eye contact. Then he'll give me a sly grin... sometimes a wink ...and go back to working.
And it bugs the shit out of me that I know all this because I find myself staring at him all too much. For instance... like right now.
He looks incredibly hot tonight, wearing nothing more than jeans and a dark gray t-shirt that molds well to his chest and upper arms. He has a beanie on his head covering most of his hair, except for some thick locks than hang down over his forehead. And I'm not sure if it's weird or not, but I find it incredibly sexy that he's wearing wire-rimmed glasses tonight. I've noticed him take them off a few times and rub the bridge of his nose. This caused me to notice more details about the tattoos he has on the inside of each wrist. One says "Love" and the other says "Hope" and he has his band's logo inked on his left forearm.
Shamefully, I've apparently watched him enough to know that he has a habit of tapping the end of his pen on his side-by-side lip rings when he's concentrating.
Yes, I stare at him a lot.
For the last three nights, Cillian has walked me home and I hate to admit it but he's wearing me down. That first night, I didn't say a word to him. He tried to engage me, but I refused to answer any of his questions. So he just started talking and I had no choice but to listen for the fifteen minutes him to walk me to my apartment.
I learned all about his band it was actually interesting stuff. He met his drummer and best friend, Sean Lundie, while they were both attending The Royal Academy of Music in London. Surprised would not even describe the emotion I was feeling when Cillian told me he was there on a scholarship, but I refused to budge and ask him more about it. He motored on with his one-sided conversation, telling me that he and Sean dropped out before completing their first year and formed OTE. They picked up their keyboardist, Daniel Paden, and bassist, Maeve Mullowney, after holding open auditions at The Hibernian one night.
Cillian had just started to tell me about their rise to success when we reached my apartment door. I hate to admit it, but I wanted to hear more because, regardless of whether or not I wanted to get involved with Cillian, I did find him fascinating. Instead, he just watched me patiently as I unlocked my door. I didn't look at him as I stepped inside and heard him murmur, "Good night, cailin alainn," before shutting the door on him.
The next night when he walked me home, I couldn't help but ask why he dropped out of The Royal Academy of Music. I had been thinking about it all day, particularly because I had always thought about dropping out of college on more than one occasion but never had the guts to do it. And even more perplexing to me, was that The Royal Academy was prestigious... I mean, world-renowned. I know this because I Googled it. I wanted to understand why he would leave that behind.
He merely shrugged his shoulders. "It just wasn't for me. I wanted to be a musician but didn't want the formal education. I was anxious to start a good band because I felt that I had the talent to make it without getting a degree."
"But aren't your parents upset?"
"Hardly. They're dead." His voice was low and flat.
That surprised me so much that I had stopped walking. Cillian stopped too, turning to look at me with curiosity.
"I'm so sorry," I said.
"Don't be," he growled. "It has nothing to do with you." His voice was brittle and his normally warm and expressive eyes held a shade of frost. Still, I couldn't help but feel sorry for him.
"No. It doesn't have anything to do with me, but it doesn't mean I can't feel sympathy for you."
He sighed and I was relieved when the warmth returned to his expression. "You're right and I'm sorry I snapped at you. It's just not something I like to talk about."
"I get that. We all have things we don't like to talk about."
We started walking again and he looked over at me. "So what are some things you don't like to talk about?"
I just shot him an exasperated look, and didn't bother to respond. We were just barely starting to converse, so there was no way I was sharing my secrets with him.
The third night he walked me home, he got me to open up just a bit. He asked me questions that were harmless and benign, and because I was starting to get tired of the silent treatment game, I went ahead and humored him with some background info on my family. He got me to tell him about where I grew up and about my time at college. Luckily, we reached my apartment before I figured out how to gloss over my Delta fiasco should he ask, and I was shutting the door on him as he murmured again, "Good night, cailin alainn."
Tonight, I can't help but be hyper-aware of Cillian as he works studiously on his computer. He's interrupted a few times by some female fans that ask him for his autograph. As always, he's warm and gracious, but he makes quick work of sending them on their way, never even noticing the longing glances he gets from them. I'm sure over the years he's had his share of adoring women to choose from--a thought that makes me feel strangely displaced.
I start clearing off a table, trying to banish Cillian from my thoughts, when my phone buzzes in the pocket of my apron, indicating a text. No one except for Cady
or Teagan really texts me, and they never bother me at work. I decide to check it because I want to make sure it's not someone from home with an urgent matter.
Pulling my iPhone out, I glance at the text and my heart literally stops in my chest.
It's from Cormac.
I miss you. I've wanted to contact you for a few weeks but didn't know how. I would really like to see you and I know you're in Dublin. To apologize. To see if we still have something together. I can explain more, but seeing you in person would help. Please call me. I do love you.
I read the text one more time and my heart starts thumping madly in my chest. The man I thought I loved... the man who destroyed my reputation is contacting me, and I'm not sure how to feel about it. And how in the hell does he know I'm in Dublin?
I realize my hands are shaking as I turn the phone off and slide it back into my apron. Glancing at my watch, I see I'm overdue for a break. With a short word to Keefe that I'll be outside for a few minutes, I feel like I practically stumble out the front door. Walking along the edge of the brick building, I find a quiet spot, lean back against it, and close my eyes.
Cormac's image comes to mind. His black hair and deep blue eyes. The way he would smile at me first thing in the morning on those nights we stayed together. Or the knowing look that would pass between us when he would first step onto the plane.
We had to be careful because Delta frowned upon relationships between pilots and flight attendants. We knew it was wrong but we were powerless to stop the attraction. And there was that part of me that liked the danger... the risk... the naughtiness of breaking the rules for the first time in my life.
I had no regrets. I loved Cormac and I believed he loved me. We even talked about me quitting Delta so that we could be open in our relationship, but he wanted me to get at least a full year under my belt before we did that. He wanted to make sure I had good experience on my resume should I want to work for another airline.
I simply wasn't prepared for my world to come crashing down on me in the blink of an eye. Within a matter of days, I found out the man I loved had been lying to me and I had been forced out of a job under the most shameful of circumstances. The black mark against me would follow me forever.