CHAPTER FIVE
For the entire breakfast, my Ma keeps giving me looks. Like the looks she gave me the first time I introduced Tabitha to the family. The hopeful glances, a slight sparkle in her eyes. The hint of a wish for more grandkids. And probably, most of all, for a future with Brie.
I might be mistaking that look, reading too much into all of it.
If I’m in this apartment with no girlfriend, no wife, I’ll be this way forever. A revolving door of meaningless hookups. At least that’s my mom’s opinion, and probably Finn’s too. My other brothers couldn’t care less. But he’s the oldest, so in this kind of family, his opinion counts for something.
Finn just glares at me and rolls his eyes.
His whole fucking attitude makes me want to pull it off even more.
Combined with that, every time I look over at Skye, my eyes focus on the rosy color of her cheeks, the way her hair falls, the smiles and stories she places into the conversation. She doesn’t need to be here, no. She could have left. Could have freaked out and run away. But she stands her ground, wearing that dress. About half way through the meal, I remember that she’s not wearing her panties.
I look at her and raise an eyebrow, taking a bite of pancake. She blushes an even deeper red. If it were just her at this table, I would have let the pancakes get cold. She’s the kind of girl who thinks she’s not into anything kinky, but I’m betting I could prove otherwise. Even without the sex.
It’s the build up that’s going to be the good part. Scratch that. The whole thing will be good—with big ass benefits all around.
“How did you two meet?” Ma asks, looking between me and Skye. I’m sure she’s trying to read the looks I’m giving my girlfriend, trying to gauge how long we’ve been together.
Not long, I think. Long enough for her to get a taste and want to come back for more. And, if I’m honest, just long enough for me to do the same.
“We met at a book store.” Skye gives me a withering look and crosses her legs, bumping my foot in the process. “He was browsing through the poetry section.”
“It’s next to the romance section. That’s where she was. Looking at ‘90s romances with Fabio on the cover.”
“I was not!” Her protests fall on deaf ears, as Ma starts to recount her own taste for old romances. Finn just piles his plate high with bacon and eggs, telling us both something about bulking up. He mentions something about Crossfit, and my brain goes numb. Instead of listening, I’m looking at the girl across the table.
I should be honest, I think. But that doesn’t seem like a good idea. If she’s still here after all this, I should be able to pass her off as my girlfriend for the courts. For Marta. For the private investigator.
And she can know all about Brie when it’s time.
“So, Skye. Are you looking forward to next weekend?” Finn turns to her, and my stomach drops. He has that look in his eye like he knows what’s best for me. Usually, he’s been right. But this time, I’m following his plan to a tee. Even though he told me not to follow it, I guess.
Skye looks over at me before she responds. “I… don’t know. What’s happening next weekend?”
I groan. “I haven’t told her yet.”
“Oh you haven’t?” Finn says, looking between me and Skye. “Well fucking color me surprised.”
“Language,” Ma says. She pours herself a glass of orange juice and acts like she’s oblivious to what Finn is doing. She’s always done that, even when we were eight and six and using crayons to make designs on the wall. Always my fault, not his.
“It’s a special weekend, Skye.” Finn turns to me. “But maybe Liam was waiting to surprise you with it, since you’re his girlfriend and all. And I don’t know, maybe you like surprises. Maybe Liam doesn’t even know if you like surprises. Do you?”
Skye looks at me again, confusion written all over her face. “I’m okay with surprises,” she replies, cautiously. “But maybe this time… it would be best to let me know what’s going on.” She looks at me pointedly. “Sweetie.”
I smile, trying not to look nervous. I don’t look nervous in front of chicks. And hey, what the hell have I lost if Skye freaks out? She probably will anyway. I’ve got the better end of the deal here—and she gets to act out the part of the girlfriend for very little reward. I’ll just have to convince her that being with me will be truly fucking rewarding. “Well, honey,” I start, emphasizing the word. “I think we might have talked about it.”
“I’m 100% sure we didn’t.” She stabs a piece of pancake and puts it into her mouth. Her full lips purse together as she finishes it.
“I have visitation with my daughter,” I blurt out.
Her face goes pale. I wait for her to respond, but she doesn’t. She picks up her cup of coffee, even though it’s empty. She looks at it like it should have something in it, like coffee might magically appear.
“I’m sure you’ve heard about her. She’s all Liam ever talks about.”
“Brie’s grandmother is keeping her right now.” I catch Skye’s eye. “I know I told you that.”
Ma is now looking between the two of us, slowly eating a piece of bacon.
Skye looks over at my mom. “Yeah, you said.”
Relief floods my body. Jesus, she’s a champ.
“And she has a PI looking at my every move.”
Skye bites her lip, but her face softens slightly. “Mm,” she responds, like she might have heard this before, or she might not.
“It would be great if I had my serious girlfriend with me. Really good for providing stability for my girl. She’s a good kid. And she deserves to be with me. Not her grandmother, who insults her at every turn.” I pause. “That’s what Marta—her other grandmother—does. I’m not a great guy—”
Finn cuts in. “You’re not. No, definitely.” Ma shoves Finn on the arm.
“But I’m better than that. And Brie deserves someone who tells her she’s beautiful and smart. And cool. And all the things she is. Even if he fucked up in the past.” I watch Skye’s face. She’s cool as a cucumber, even though my own throat is starting to tighten. “Even if he’s an ex-con, an ex-junkie. A player. A liar.”
Ma puts her hand on mine. “You’re a good father. None of that other talk, Liam. And Skye seems like a nice girl—she’s good for you.”
Skye clears her throat. “Is there more coffee? I’m going to need some more.”
“Can’t say I blame you on that one,” Finn says. He takes her cup. I follow him to the kitchen, trying to avoid Skye’s stare.
“If she stays after this,” Finn whispers as the water in my kettle begins to boil. “Let’s just say you better not fuck it up.”
I glance over to Skye. She’s still talking to my mom, smiling, saying something about books. Ma pats her on the shoulder and squeezes her hand. For a second, Skye catches my eye, and she nods slightly.
Finn mixes the coffee into the boiling water, and I feel suddenly embarrassed that all I have to offer is instant. I make a note to clean out the coffee maker from downstairs.
“She’s way—” Finn says, adding creamer. “Way out of your league, man. Light years. If she stays after this morning? You owe her fucking big time.”
Shit.
He’s right.
I’m an idiot, and she should cut and run.
Finn brings Skye her cup of coffee and touches her on the shoulder, like he used to do to me when I was a teenager. When all the shit in my life started to go south. Something clenches tight in my chest, another thing I haven’t felt in years. I push that feeling aside. I don’t know where it came from, this protective thing. Best not to consider it with the shit show I’ve just created.
“Ma,” Finn says, bringing his other hand to my mother’s shoulder. “I think we oughta stop talking Skye’s ear off about her job. It’s, uh, a step up for Liam, you know. But I bet they’ve got a nice Sunday planned. Don’t you, Liam?” He looks to Skye. “Or maybe she wants to get out of here too, after all this. You need a ride home?”
The room stills, and I wait for her response. Like I’m standing at the edge of a precipice, looking over the edge.
“No, I’m good. Liam and I are going to… enjoy the day. And plan for next weekend, aren’t we?”
I watch as my mother gets up. She leans on her cane and gives me a knowing look. She doesn’t buy our relationship any more than Finn does. There’s no reason I should have thought I could pull one over on a sixty year old Irish woman who’s lived through immigration, raising four boys, and forty years of marriage to my father.
Skye starts clearing dishes, and I’m left face to face with my mother. “You’re doing the best you know how, Liam. At least I think you are. But Brie means something to all of us. If this is some half-cocked scheme—and if you’re planning on using this girl just to get Brie—it’s all going to blow up in your face.” She puts a hand to my arm. “It’s a handsome face. But one that’s made a whole lot of bad decisions. Cut her free if she’s another one.”
I’m left standing there, dumbstruck, as Finn and my mother walk out the door.
I went through it all in my mind when I was making eggs and bacon, putting a dash of cinnamon in the pancakes. I’d tell Skye I needed her to pose as my girlfriend, we’d both get through breakfast, and then I’d let her know about my daughter.
Instead, I’m left standing in the middle of my apartment as Skye scrapes eggs into the garbage disposal. She knew too little before everyone arrived, and now she knows far too much. The balance is all wrong, and guilt washes over me. I don’t feel this way with women, no matter how much I fuck up. But when I look at Skye, it almost crushes me.
She gazes at me, her eyes sad. “This isn’t what I had in mind when I woke up this morning. But I guess I was stupid enough to come upstairs with you last night. And I woke up to a giant fucking mess.”
“You weren’t stupid.” There are more words I should say, specifically that I was the one who was stupid. That I shouldn’t have involved her against her will. That she can go if she wants to. And it was all a bad deal to begin with. But the words don’t come. I’m not practiced at saying things like this. Not with anyone, let alone a smart, beautiful one like Skye. And never sober.
“Yeah. I was.” She pours a tepid cup of water and mixes in instant coffee grounds. “There’s not enough coffee in the world to deal with this shit.”
I stand there, expecting her to go. But she just pours creamer in her coffee and drinks it down. And then she walks back to the bedroom, to my shower.
Stunned, I follow her. “I don’t understand. You’re not leaving?”
She turns to me, and pulls the gray dress over her head. Those full, round tits. The supple curve of her hip, the dark thatch between her legs. My cock twitches.
“I should leave,” she says. “Against my better judgment, I’d like to help. Not for you. For the little girl. If it turns out you’re lying to me about her—”
“I’m not. I promise. I fucking promise.” I step forward, my hands drawn to her body, desperate to touch her.
But she steps back instead. “If it turns out you’re lying, I’ll be gone. No visitations—no court dates. And you keep your promise to me.”
I cross my arms. “What’s that? The sex? It seemed like a good proposal when I said it last night. But the light of day makes most of my ideas seem fucking ridiculous.”
She walks into the bathroom and turns on the shower, pulling a towel out of the closet. “It’s ludicrous.” She checks the water and looks at me. Her eyes are tired, vulnerable. Like she’s been carrying a burden for a long time. “I’m a virgin, but it’s not cute or sexy. Not to me. It means that the man I thought I would marry treated me like shit. He never wanted me. I need that part of me gone.”
My cock strains against the fabric of my pants. The man that didn’t want this woman was a complete and total fucking lunatic. An idiot of the highest order. I look her up and down. Her very existence radiates sex, and sin. All the good things about sinking into a woman and never coming up for air. “I can get that part of you gone. If that’s what you want.”
“It is. With no strings attached after all this is over…” She steps in the shower, steam billowing around her. “Well, that makes it all easier. And we can both move on after it’s all done.”
“Sure. Sure we can.” Something deep inside of me drops. It’s a vague, ugly, uncomfortable feeling. Like the disappointment I felt when I was scolded back in grade school. “No strings attached,” I repeat. But the words feel strange and unwieldy in my mouth, like I regret saying them.
I shrug off the feeling.
I’ve lived life for the past three years without a woman. When Tabitha left, that was the end. And when she died, a piece of me died.
I’ve told myself a thousand times since then that I was done. That none of that existed for me anymore. That it was easier just to be alone, for good.
But as Skye soaps herself in the shower, water sluicing over her smooth skin, those thoughts seem distant and old.
I take my clothes off and step in the shower behind her, my cock at full mast.
“That’s more like it,” she murmurs, pulling my arm around her waist. My cock rests against the juicy, thick curve of her hip. I want all of her, all at once. Her pussy. Her ass. Her sweet lips, wrapped around my cock.
But for once, I’ll take things slow. Make it all last until the very last moment.
Because when this one’s gone, I suspect she’ll be gone for good. Back to hipster-town in Brooklyn, away from me and all the weight of my past.