The Cad and the Co-Ed

by Penny Reid

And yet, every time I closed my eyes I saw him in his housecoat, clutching his mint tea. Or I saw him with his head thrown back, laughing at my embarrassing story. Or I saw him in the park, when he’d first set eyes on Patrick.

  Or I felt his hot breath falling over my shoulder, the slide of his finger on my throat, the aching brand of his lips against my skin.

  Crackers.

  Presently, swallowing his gulp of water, William gave me a small—very small—smile, and asked, “Why are you sorry?”

  I stared at him, shaking my head, not knowing where to begin and finally settled on, “For this. For lying. For forcing you into going out with me for lunch.”

  “You didn’t force me. Lunch was my idea.”

  I shook my head, pushing the menu to the side and folding my hands on the tabletop. “William, I am so sorry. I’m—I don’t even know where to start. I’m just so sorry. I’m a hot mess and I dragged you into my messiness, and Bryan—”

  “Bryan is your son’s father.” William placed his hand over mine.

  I closed my eyes, letting my chin drop to my chest and gave him a half-hearted nod. “How did you know?”

  “He told me.”

  My head shot up. “He what?”

  William nodded. “We’re roommates.”

  “He told you?”

  “Yeah. This morning on the way in. We ride together sometimes.”

  I exhaled a disbelieving breath, my eyes moving unseeingly to a spot over William’s shoulder. “I can’t believe he told you.”

  The big man cleared his throat, bringing my attention back to him. His expression was patient and kind as he said in his quiet way, “I was going to ask you out.”

  “You-you what?”

  “I was planning to ask you out,” he said simply, honestly, openly, a rumbly straightforward confession. “I don’t want you to think this,” he motioned between the two of us, “is a hardship for me. You’re lovely. And genuine and kind. I like you. A lot.”

  . . . dun dun DUN!

  I gaped at him, unable to do anything else. I was not prepared for this.

  I was prepared for his irritation. I was prepared to apologize profusely. But I was not prepared for this.

  WHY MUST THESE MEN CATCH ME SO UNPREPARED???

  His eyes darted to my lips, and his curved to one side, just subtly. “You’re more than lovely. You’re beautiful. But you already know that.”

  “William, I . . .” I shook my head. What is going on?

  “I wanted to tell you. You have no reason to apologize,” he finished gently, his brown eyes now striking me as remarkably soulful.

  So I stared at William Moore. I really, really looked at him.

  He was good and honorable, hardworking and ethical. I knew this to be true. The guys on the team respected and admired him, as did the administrative and coaching staff. And clearly he was brave, fluent in emotional maturity.

  William would make a great father, the thought popped into my head before I knew I was thinking it—unbidden, honest—followed immediately by another thought, equally unbidden. But William is not who you want.

  I gave him a warm smile that I hoped reached my eyes, flipping my hand over and twisting our fingers together. “You are a remarkable person, William Moore.”

  “So are you, Eilish Cassidy.” He didn’t smile this time as his soulful gaze moved over my face. William watched me for a moment longer and gathered a deep breath, releasing my fingers. “I don’t lie. I’m not a liar.”

  I nodded, understanding, knowing it was for the best. I didn’t want him to lie. Heck, I was already regretting the lie, mostly.

  Bryan’s enchanted body parts. That’s why you lied. When threatened with enchanted orgasms by a cad, the best thing to do is lie.

  “So we go out on Friday.”

  Laughing lightly, I retrieved the menu and glanced over the sandwiches. “You’re funny, William.”

  “I’m not joking.”

  This had me lifting my eyes to the man nicknamed the Brickhouse and raising an eyebrow in question. “Don’t you think it would be best for me to be completely honest? Rather than prolonging the charade?”

  He shrugged. “I’ll let you decide. But so long as we go out, we’re not lying.”

  “William . . .” I didn’t know what to say, so I stalled, searching the tabletop, menu, and restaurant walls for help.

  What is wrong with you, E? William Moore is asking you out. You like this guy. A lot. He’s kind and good, not to mention stunningly handsome.

  As a matter of fact, his oblique muscles made me want to cry. Yet I felt nothing for William beyond friendship and professional courtesy. No longing. No pull. Agreeing to go out with him felt like lying, and I didn’t want to do that. I hated that I’d lied to Bryan in the first place. I wasn’t going to compound the lie by leading William on.

  He must’ve recognized my inability to articulate my thoughts because he said, “Look. I know you’re hung up on Bryan—”

  “I’m not hung up on Bryan.”

  Am I?

  “Let me ask you this, then. When is the last time you went out? Not even on a date. When is the last time you went out with friends—dinner, movie, dancing, a show?”

  Leaning back in my chair, I crossed my arms. “Seven months ago.”

  “Go on.”

  Not allowing myself to think too much about what I was about to admit, I confessed, “I had a rare night off and my best friend’s mother offered to babysit. A group of us girls went dancing and I indulged in one too many alcoholic beverages.”

  “Nothing wrong with that.” He shrugged. “You’re a mother, not a saint.”

  Giving him my hard stare, I continued, “I made out with a stranger on the dance floor.”

  A faint, approving smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “Good. Were you hung over the next morning?”

  “No. I didn’t have too much to drink, just enough to lower my inhibitions for a while. I made it home by one and woke up the next morning feeling fantastic.”

  “See, you—”

  “And promptly came down with pneumonia the next week.”

  He winced. Like most of his facial expressions, it was understated. “That sucks.”

  “It did. No one else was sick, so I must’ve caught it from the stranger.”

  William chuckled softly, like he couldn’t help himself. “Geeze.”

  “Yeah. I took it as a sign.”

  “What kind of sign?”

  “The universe doesn’t want me to have adult fun beyond organizing closets.”

  “Maybe it’s time to give the universe another chance.”

  I shook my head, glancing over his shoulder. “I like you, William. But I have so much going on right now, so many changes, so much chaos. I don’t think I’m ready to engage in any adult activities beyond organizing closets.”

  “Fine. Then let’s do that. You get dressed up, I’ll take you out to dinner, and then you’ll organize my closet. It’ll drive Bryan crazy.” He shrugged again, his face impassive as he reached for and took a sip of water.

  “Why do you want to drive Bryan crazy?”

  “Because he’s not himself. He’s not happy. He’s not unhappy, but he’s not happy either. He’s my friend, and I want him to be happy.”

  “And taking me out to dinner will make him happy?”

  “No. It’ll drive him crazy, which should hopefully push him into doing something reckless.”

  “You can’t want Bryan to be reckless.” I squinted at him in confusion. Why on earth would William want his friend to be reckless?

  “I do,” he said simply.

  “But he’s worked so hard to be sober, to be less reckless.”

  “But he’s not less reckless. He’s not reckless, period. He’s a boring sonofabitch and needs a wakeup call.”

  I huffed a disbelieving laugh. “Everyone thinks you’re a saint.”

  “I’m no saint,” he said plainly, his American accent more pronounced.

>   “Well then, everyone thinks you’re honorable.”

  “That’s more accurate.”

  I grinned. “You’re an honorable non-saint?”

  “More or less.” Though his voice was its usual low, unaffected tenor, I detected just a hint of something new as he said, “Even thieves have honor.”

  16

  @ECassChoosesPikachu: Patrick’s new favorite joke: What do you call an alligator in a vest? An “investigator” HA!

  @JoseyInHeels to @ECassChoosesPikachu: The kid needs better jokes

  @SeanCassinova to @ECassChoosesPikachu: MY NEPHEW IS BRILLIANT!

  *Eilish*

  “Tell me again how this happened?”

  My eyes flickered to my cousin’s, then back to my image in the mirror. I leaned forward to apply my mascara.

  “As I’ve told you, William said he’d been wanting to ask me out for a while. We went to lunch on Wednesday and, once you agreed to babysit, I told him I could go out tonight.”

  “Moore . . .” Sean said, as though to confirm. Again. “The American?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not, say, Daly or Malloy?”

  I glared at Sean. “No.”

  “Hrumph.”

  I switched to the other eye. “We’re just friends.”

  “I don’t understand how this happened,” he said mostly to himself. “Moore is a saint.”

  My mouth curved into a smirk before I could stop it, thinking back to William’s denial of sainthood status.

  After lunch, when we’d returned to work, I’d called Sean and asked if he could watch Patrick Friday night. He readily agreed. I also asked Sean if he would be available during the day Saturday so Bryan could spend time with Patrick.

  I’d planned to use the time on Saturday to run some errands, catch up on bills and such while the boys spent time together out and about. Patrick needed time with Bryan, they needed to form a foundation for their relationship, but that didn’t mean I needed to be present. In fact, I thought it might be better if I wasn’t around when Bryan and Patrick visited. That way Patrick wouldn’t get used to the three of us being together.

  Bryan had been cordial all week. Polite. Solicitous. And he hadn’t brought up our locker room encounter. I didn’t know if I was grateful or disappointed.

  Presently, in my bathroom, Sean motioned to me accusingly with an outstretched hand, then twisted his cufflinks in an anxious gesture. “You look amazing.” Even when he babysat the man wore cufflinks.

  Glancing down at myself, I quickly inspected the jade green dress I hadn’t worn in six years. “Thank you?”

  “That’s not the kind of dress a woman wears to go out with a friend.”

  “Yes, it is,” I said on a sigh, closing and dropping the mascara in my makeup bag.

  “It’s not. It’s the kind of dress a woman wears when she wants to be noticed.”

  “Or maybe it’s the kind of dress a woman wears when she hasn’t gone out to a proper dinner in years and she wants to feel pretty and special instead of like a mother. You know, covered in Popsicle goo and four-year-old boy germs.”

  “Fine. Or that,” he conceded quietly, tilting his head to the side in a considering manner. “Have you really not gone out to dinner in years?”

  Deciding that dinner with Trevor at the mall didn’t count, I smiled warmly at Sean’s reflection. “Yes. But, honestly, I haven’t minded. I know how lucky I am to have Patrick, and I wouldn’t trade my daily Popsicle goo and little-boy germs for fancy dinners in a million years.”

  “I know, E. I just—” Sean was interrupted by my cell ringing on the countertop. He made a face at it, then at me, and continued, “I know you wouldn’t trade Patrick for fancy dinners. But have you considered maybe you could have both?”

  I picked up my cell, not looking at the screen, and frowned at my cousin. “Exactly. Which is why I’m going out tonight, with my friend.”

  “Don’t you want something different? Something better?”

  “No. I don’t. I don’t need better, Sean. I have a great job, I have you, and I have Patrick. I don’t need anyone else.”

  “Yes. I know. You don’t need anyone. You’ve only said those words three point four million times. Is that what you want for Patrick, hmm? To go through life alone? I’m not saying you need someone to be happy, I’m merely suggesting you consider the possibility that—”

  “Hello?” I answered my phone, giving Sean a look that I hope communicated my desire to never have this discussion ever again.

  “Eilish, it’s your mother.”

  I grimaced, leaning my hip against the bathroom counter. “Hello, Mother.”

  As soon as the words were out of my mouth, Sean also grimaced. We swapped a commiserating glance.

  “I’ve been trying to reach you.”

  “Yes. I’ve been busy.”

  “This is important. A rumor has reached me, and I don’t know what to think.” I heard something rattle in the background, like she’d just dropped a glass onto a hard surface.

  “Uh, I don’t—”

  “Is Bryan Leech that child’s father?”

  I stiffened, blinking rapidly as dread and apprehension and confusion filled my chest and made responding in a timely fashion impossible. I glanced at Sean for help, and he frowned at my expression, pulling the phone from my ear and placing the call on speaker.

  “. . . still there? Hello? Eilish?” came her shrill voice.

  “Yes. Yes, I’m still here.”

  “Well? Is Bryan Leech the father?”

  “I don’t—I mean, where did you—?”

  “That’s unimportant. Don’t you see? This changes everything.”

  “How does this change everything?” I asked, hoping to stall, needing a moment to think.

  Sean made a face of stunned confusion and shook his head. I could see he was truly perplexed.

  “He is a man of means, Eilish. And do you realize who Bryan’s father is? He needs to take responsibility for that child. And you. He needs to take care of you.”

  Her words of crazy finally provided something I could respond to with clear thought. “Mother, he is under no obligation to take care of me nor would I ever ask him to. And, honestly, this is none of your business.”

  “It is my business. Do you know how embarrassing this has been for me? Do you know how hard this has been on your family? If he marries you—no, when—when he marries you, it will change everything.”

  Sean made a face, which I was certain I mirrored, something along the lines of, Can you believe this bitch?

  “Mother, I have to go. Let me repeat, this is none of your business. Leave it alone.”

  “Wait. Wait. Don’t hang up. Listen, I—uh—I need you to come to brunch on Sunday.”

  Both Sean and I narrowed our eyes in unison. “I don’t think I can make it.”

  “It’s very important that you come. I have papers for you to sign, regarding your trust.”

  I almost snorted. Almost.

  “Mother, if I’m not mistaken, you disowned me four years ago and changed your will.”

  “I might have been hasty,” she said, which was the closest thing to an apology I would likely ever receive. “I’ve already met with the solicitors and it’s done. I just need you to come by on Sunday to sign the papers.”

  “Mother . . .” I closed my eyes, rubbing my temples.

  “I know that cousin of yours watches the child on Sunday afternoons, so I know you have the time. Please, come to brunch. Stay ten minutes to sign the papers, then you can leave.”

  For cripes’ sake, the woman couldn’t even say Sean’s name, and he was her nephew!

  “I don’t think—”

  “And I have grandmother’s ring for you, the emerald, from Egypt.”

  I paused, holding my breath. Sean and I traded stunned stares. He quickly muted the line and loud-whispered, “Grandmother Lillian’s ring? You have to go. Go get that ring. Go.”

  I’d never met Lillian Cassidy,
as my father’s grandmother had passed before I was born, but my father used to show me the ring and tell me it was to be mine. This was before he abandoned our family years ago. He always said I reminded him of his Grandmother Lily.

  After he left—and it was clear he wouldn’t be returning—I never thought about it, though I’d seen my mother wear it on occasion.

  “Are you there?”

  Sean unmuted the phone, wiggling it, and mouthed, “Go to the brunch.”

  “Fine,” I said through gritted teeth. “Fine. I’ll go. I’ll see you Sunday.” I made a mental note to call Josey and cancel or postpone our weekly coffee plans.

  “Wonderful. See you then. Don’t be late. Ta.” And with that, she hung up.

  I released a tired breath as Sean set my cell on the counter.

  “That woman.” My cousin placed his hands on his hips. “She is a harbinger of ulcers and alcoholism.”

  I huffed a sad laugh and shook my head just as a knock sounded on the front door. Sean turned his head toward the sound.

  “Can you get that for me? I’m sorry, I still need to finish here.”

  “Not a problem, darling. Take your time.” Giving me one more sympathetic look, he turned and left the bathroom.

  I hunted for my lipstick, trying not to think too much about the call. I didn’t want to get my hopes up about the ring, and how did she find out about Bryan?

  As I applied color to my lips, I listened to the faint sounds of Sean opening the door and greeting William. Their low, rumbly voices carried to me. I quickly dusted setting powder over my makeup and gave my wrists a spritz of perfume.

  Pushing away thoughts of my mother, I didn’t take a second to study my reflection. Instead, I hurried to Patrick’s room and gave my son a tight hug and a kiss.

  “Will you be all right with Monkey Sean?”

  He nodded, twisting his arms around my neck. “We’re going to eat steak and then he’s going to show me how to make a full wizard knot.”

  “A full wizard?”

  “Yes. With my necktie.”

  A full wizard . . . A full Windsor.

  My cousin was ridiculous and I loved him so very, very much.

  “Ah. Okay. Be good.”

  I left Patrick coloring in his room and darted to the living room, but then I stopped short.