by Kelly, A. S.
“Did he cheat on her with her?”
I don’t know whether I should be talking to my daughter about these things – especially when it’s Jordan’s business, not mine – but a woman at the table across from us leaps suddenly into the conversation.
“Not a nice guy,” she says, nodding towards Steven.
“Excuse me?”
“Everyone in town knows about it,” she says, trying to justify herself. “She kicked him out.”
“Good,” my daughter says. I feel myself burning with pride.
“See her?” she asks, pointing towards the woman he’s sitting with. “She’s only twenty. How old is he?”
“I imagine he’s thirty-eight, like me.”
“Exactly.”
“I don’t think the age gap is the problem.”
“The problem is that he’s a dickhead,” my daughter adds. This time, I don’t tell her not to use that word. I couldn’t have thought of a better description.
“Men,” the woman says, shaking her head. “Always running after the longest legs, the perkiest breasts, the most well-toned backside.”
My daughter laughs and the woman turns back to her dinner.
“What a—”
“Here I am.” Jordan appears back at the table.
“Your salmon arrived.”
“Haven’t you started eating yet?”
“That would’ve been rude.”
She smiles.
“Oh, whoops. I’ve already eaten three prawns,” my daughter comments, her mouth still full. We both laugh.
“Sorry,” she says, wiping her lips.
“No problem, Skylar.”
What the hell is happening? My daughter, laughing, joking, making conversation? Apologising?
“So where did you two go today?”
“Can I say something?” Skylar asks, interrupting her.
“Of course.”
“You’ve got balls, Ms Hill.”
“Oh, well…”
“And I want to say something else.”
“Okay,” she says, almost in shock.
“It’s not easy to understand a woman like you. Usually, people are just scared of you.”
“Skylar…” I say, trying to intervene.
“My mum was a woman like you. She had balls, too.”
Jordan listens intently.
“That’s why no one was ever good enough for her.”
She speaks confidently, calmly; her voice is steady. But if I tried to speak now, it’d be a disaster.
“Thank you, Skylar. I’m sure your mother was a very special woman.”
“She was.”
“And I’m sure you take after her,” she says, stroking her cheek. My daughter lets herself be touched without rolling her eyes, or swearing, or pulling away.
“I hope so,” Skylar says, a sadness in her voice.
“You’re completely your mother,” I find myself saying. “From the way she looked at you to the way she ate,” I say, chuckling at the memory. “Not to mention the way she spoke,” I add, emotion and regret choking at me. I reach out towards my daughter and lightly stroke her hand – for the first time ever, she lets me touch her. “And I’m sure that you smile just like her, too. But I can’t be sure, because she never smiled at me.”
Skylar bursts out laughing.
“See, I knew I was right.”
“Idiot,” my daughter says, trying to brush off my words. But it’s useless; I’ve seen her, now. She’s starting to let down her walls.
Jordan’s hand rests on my thigh, under the table, and I try not to jump at her touch.
“I’m sure she takes after you in some ways, too.”
“I really hope not,” Skylar comments, before shoving another prawn into her mouth. “Oh, fuck,” she says as she’s chewing. “I’m allowed to eat now, right?”
We both burst out laughing, making everyone at a nearby table turn to look at us. We even catch that cheating bastard’s attention. Jordan doesn’t notice – she hasn’t looked in his direction since we sat down. I can see that her walls are starting to come down, too; and I have to do everything I can to stop her from building them back up.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
“What for? You’re the one who saved me!”
I shake my head. “You have no idea what you’re doing for me right now.”
Her eyes widen.
“And you have no idea what it means to me.”
“Niall…”
“No, please, don’t say anything tonight. Let’s just forget the agreement until tomorrow. Please?”
Jordan sighs, then looks at Skylar, who’s licking her fingers after finishing the last prawn. She turns to me.
“Fine, but just for tonight. Let’s pretend we never signed that contract. But tomorrow, everything has to go back to the way it was.”
She said tomorrow. I’m the kind of guy who focuses on today: and today, there are no agreements, no small print. No rules to adhere to.
Tonight, there’s only us. And I plan to enjoy every second.
Jordan
By the time the waiter brings over our main courses, half the bottle of wine has disappeared. And I have to admit – guiltily – that I’m the only person at this table who drinks wine. Skylar has ordered a Coke, and Niall is drinking Guinness. Which means that the half-empty bottle is reserved solely for this evening’s resident alcoholic.
A whole bottle could never be enough to shake away the feeling of his eyes all over me. Two bottles wouldn’t even be enough to forget about him, or her, or the way he took off her jacket and pulled out her chair. I never thought it would hurt so much, and I hate that he still has that effect on me.
I’m not in love with my ex-husband. He cheated on me, in our own bed. And he’s still with his mistress. Besides, the word ‘ex’ means something, right? And I believe in the power of words.
I finish off the wine in my glass and Niall immediately lifts the bottle, ready to pour me a refill. I hope he’s not trying to lower my inhibitions and make the most of our temporary truce – because it might actually work. I feel so alone, tonight more than ever – even thought I invited them to sit with me, to thank them for rescuing me from a horrendous encounter with my ex and his new girlfriend. I enjoy their company; but it’s still not enough to fill the void in my stomach. And I’m not talking about the nervous hunger that I always feel when I’m in an uncomfortable situation.
“How is it?” Niall asks, gesturing towards my meal.
“Oh…I haven’t…” I grab my cutlery and cut a piece of meat, dipping it into its accompanying pepper sauce before lifting it into my mouth. “Mmm,” I moan, chewing slowly.
I love meat, and I especially love the way they cook it here. I know how to cook – I’m not terrible – but meat is definitely not my speciality. I’ve never learnt to cook it properly.
“How’s yours?”
Niall chose beer-battered fish skewers.
“Really good. Do you want to try some?”
“No, thanks. I’m like Skylar: I prefer meat,” I say, gesturing towards her as she sinks her teeth into a burger.
“How do you know she prefers meat?” Niall asks, looking at his daughter.
“You can tell by the way she’s eating that burger.”
“The head teacher’s right,” Skylar confirms.
“Please, call me Jordan.”
“So she’s allowed to call you Jordan, and I’m not?” Niall whines.
“Fine,” I sigh, “you can call me Jordan, too. Happy? But only outside school. That goes for both of you.”
Skylar shrugs as if she couldn’t care less, while Niall leans closer to my ear.
“I think I’ll keep calling you Headmistress.”
I glance quizzically at him.
“Headmistress Jordan.”
“That’s not the correct form…”
“I don’t give a damn about whether it’s correct…come on, headmistress. It’s so sexy.”
&n
bsp; I bring my hand up to my neck instinctively, feigning nonchalance. There’s a teenager sitting with us – and it’s his daughter.
“That goes against every single rule, Niall.”
“Didn’t we say that rules don’t count tonight?”
“Yes, we did. But don’t take it too far.”
“Whatever you say,” he says, smiling mischievously. “I’ve already told you that you’ll be eating every single word in that agreement very soon.”
He rests his hand on the back of my seat, his thumb gently tickling the exposed part of my back. Goosebumps start to spread from my toes to my fingers.
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Are you two finished?” Skylar asks, pulling our attention away from each other. “It’s getting embarrassing. You know I can hear you, right?”
“Sorry, you’re right. That was rude and unprofessional, and it won’t happen again,” I say, apologising right away. Niall laughs.
He slowly pulls his hand away from my back, trailing his fingers across my skin. An embarrassing heat starts to burst through my cheeks.
“Sorry,” he says to Skylar. “I’ll only make my moves on the headmistress when we’re alone.”
“What?” I raise my voice suddenly, flinging around to face him.
“You wish,” Skylar shoots back, before stuffing three chips into her mouth.
I study Niall. He seems so comfortable.
“Having fun?”
“A little.”
“We’re doing everything all wrong.”
He smiles, his hand sliding slowly up my thigh underneath the table. I should move away from him, or tell him to go and sit somewhere else; but his hand is so warm, so huge. No one has touched me like this in such a long time – after all, Steven preferred to touch someone else – apart from our brief yet red-hot encounter a few nights ago.
“Relax, okay? We’re not doing anything wrong.”
“That’s not what it looks like to me.”
“We’re having dinner with my family. We bumped into each other. No one saw us come in together. We made two different reservations.”
“I guess you’re right; but I still feel uncomfortable.”
“We’re just having dinner. Okay?”
“Okay,” I agree. His hands slides away from my leg.
It’s difficult for me to enjoy dinner when the sensation of his fingers is imprinted onto my skin; just like our night. Like his kisses. Like his words.
Niall insisted on dropping me home. Steven left the restaurant before us, and I didn’t even realise. It was only when we stood up to leave and Niall helped me into my jacket that I saw his table was empty, the plates and glasses already cleared away. I was so busy trying to keep Niall and his seductive moves at a distance – not to mention my raging hormones – that I didn’t even realise he and his fiancée had left. Luckily, he didn’t try to come over. Niall being here must have intimidated him.
I get out of the car as Niall tells his daughter that he’s going to walk me to my front door, to make sure I have no problem getting in. We walk slowly towards my building. The pizza place is still open, and all the waiters are inside, clearing away. I approach the door, my keys jangling from my fingers – I slide the key into the lock and the door swings open. I step through it, before turning to face him. He stays standing outside.
“Thank you for tonight.”
“Thank you for the company. And the help.”
“You were the one who helped me.”
He shakes his head. “My daughter doesn’t like spending time alone with me, and you being there made the whole evening much more pleasant.”
“In that case, I’m happy I could help.”
His face breaks into that broad, dangerous smile.
“It’s almost midnight.”
“What?”
“We still have a few minutes until our truce is over.”
He steps towards me, placing one foot through the doorway. His hand slides to the back of my neck. I press myself against him, my hands tracing the curves of his chest. He bends down towards my mouth and I part my lips and close my eyes, enjoying the feeling of his soft mouth moving against mine; his tongue slips inside, calling me. He’s panting, his breathing heavy, heat radiating from his body. I let myself go, giving in to the sensation of someone who’s dying to kiss you. Someone who shows you how much he wants you in every way possible.
I lift my hands to his hair, rising onto my tiptoes; his arms tighten around me. I can feel the growing erection, contained by his jeans.
“Jordan,” he whispers into my mouth.
“This is crazy,” I tell him.
“We still have two minutes,” he says, hungrily.
“Then stop talking.”
He smiles against my mouth before kissing me again. I let Niall Kerry tell me, in his own way, that he’ll never let some damn contract keep him away from me. And I’m stupid enough to let myself fall for it.
Niall
I go downstairs to make some sandwiches for me and Skylar. I’m helping her redecorate her room; she told me she didn’t need my help, but I ignored her, just like she tends to do with me. So that’s how I found myself awake and ready at seven o’clock this morning, old newspapers and paintbrushes in hand, wearing a pair of old overalls and standing outside her bedroom door. She told me to fuck off – she thought it was too early to start painting, but I told her there were pancakes downstairs. That managed to convince her to get out of bed without throwing any more insults my way.
My mother has gone out with Rian, my dad is outside in the fields, and Tyler doesn’t finish work until tonight: so it’s just the two of us. And, I have to say, it’s going pretty well so far. I’m still not used to her, just as she’s not used to me, but we’re slowly learning to put up with each other, to work out the best way to be around one another.
I pull some leftover chicken out of the fridge that Mum made yesterday. I grab salad, garlic mayonnaise (which I’ve now realised Skylar adores) and some tomatoes. I cut everything up, putting it into a bowl, add the chicken, and dollop a generous helping of mayonnaise onto the whole thing. I mix it together, then use it to fill two slices of bread each. I grab a plate, some napkins, a beer for me, and a Coke for Skylar, and I call up the stairs. I don’t think it’s the best idea to sit and eat surrounded by paint fumes.
Skylar appears in the kitchen and sits herself down on one of the stools at the island. I put everything on the counter and join her.
“It’s starting to look good, up there, isn’t it?” I ask, talking about her bedroom.
“It sucks a little less.”
I laugh, biting into my sandwich.
“Were they married for long?” she asks, out of nowhere.
“Who?”
“Jordan and that guy.”
I almost choke on my next mouthful. I hadn’t thought about her in almost three minutes.
“I have no idea,” I say, vaguely. “Besides, why do you care so much?”
“I want to know if you have a chance.”
“What?”
“I can tell there’s something between you two.”
“What do you mean?”
“Come on, Kerry. I heard your conversations yesterday. And I can see the way you look at each other.”
“How do we look at each other?” I ask. I really want to know.
“Like you’re about to leap onto each other.”
“You shouldn’t be talking about things that don’t concern you – actually, you shouldn’t be talking about things like that at all.”
“Whatever. I was just trying to help you out.”
“Help me out?” I ask, concerned. This could all be a ploy. “Since when have you cared about my life?”
“I don’t give a fuck about your life.”
“Please, don’t say…”
“Fuck. I know.”
She just did it again.
“You know…” She replaces her sandwich on the plate.
“She’s suggested I try to catch up with the year I missed.”
I put my sandwich down, too.
“She mentioned it to me, yeah.”
“I wasn’t expecting it.”
“Me neither.”
“I didn’t think it would even be an option.” She looks at me. “When everyone else rejects you, it makes you feel like you’ve run out of chances. Like you don’t deserve them.”
“Is that how you felt?”
She shrugs. She’s already said too much, and I don’t push it.
“Then she turns up and offers you a place at the school, tells you that you can do it. She gives your dad a job, even though his life is a total car crash.”
I smile.
“Things like that don’t happen every day.”
“No, they don’t.”
She pauses for a minute, and we both go back to our sandwiches. When she’s finished, she looks up at me again.
“I didn’t like reading those things about you. And don’t tell me that everything they write is bullshit, because both me and her knew they were true.”
I don’t know how to respond, so I just let her speak.
“Sometimes, I was happy I didn’t have your surname.”
It’s hard to hear, but I guess I deserve it.
“That way, no one could associate me with you.”
“And what did you say when people asked about your dad?”
“I told them you’d died when I was little.”
“Oh, wow.”
She doesn’t even seem to care about what she just said. Should I be angry with her?
“It was easier. No one asked questions that way.”
“What worried you the most?”
“To be honest, I didn’t want anyone to think badly of Mum. You’d slept with so many women.”
“That’s not true.”
“But it wasn’t exactly wrong.”
I nod. I don’t want to lie to her.
“Was that what happened with her, too? Was she just a one-night-stand?”
“Something like that.”
“You didn’t love her.”
I shake my head. “I wasn’t cut out for being a dad, for settling down with a woman and committing. I was young and stupid, and I believed that there were loads of things I wasn’t cut out for. And I’m sorry, honestly. I’m sorry for your mother, for not being there. I’m sorry to hear that you’d have preferred it if I’d died instead.”