by Nicola Marsh
“She didn’t take kindly to the news you’re a love-struck schmuck?”
“You don’t have to sound so bloody amused.”
Kye’s chuckles petered out. “Sorry, mate, it’s not surprising Ellie shot you down. But don’t give up. I’ve never seen her the way she is around you so she’s doing her usual putting-up-barriers thing. She’ll come around.”
Hope made me sit a little straighter. “You think?”
“Absolutely. Where is she now?”
“Holed up in her room, not answering the door.”
“At midday on a Sunday?” Kye tsk-tsked. “That’s what she used to do when she first came to Sydney. Go on benders in her room, sleep ‘til two.”
“Shit,” I muttered, feeling more of a bastard than I did last night. “What should I do?”
“As someone who was on the receiving end when Mum sent me round one arvo to wake Ellie up, trust me, you don’t want to go there.”
Great, so much for Kye helping me out. “I’m in love with her,” I blurted, feeling like an idiot.
Guys didn’t talk about this stuff but I had to do something proactive. I’d had enough of sitting around doing nothing. I’d been up the whole night, alternating between pacing and mulling and staring blindly at the hotchpotch crowd milling along Darlinghurst Road in the wee hours.
“Listen, meet me out the front in an hour. I’ll help you find your balls.” Kye sniggered. “Because the very fact you mentioned the L word to me suggests you’re in way over your head, Irish.”
“Okay,” I said, and hung up.
Getting out of here for a while would do me good. Hopefully Kye would help me come up with a strategy to win Ellie over once and for all.
Though ninety minutes later, I questioned the wisdom of entrusting Kye to give me advice as I sat in a crowd of red and white-wearing fanatics at the Sydney Cricket Ground.
“Nothing like a good game of Aussie Rules footy to get the blood pumping,” Kye said, handing me a beer in a plastic cup. “What do you think so far?”
“It’s a poor imitation of Gaelic football,” I said, sounding petulant and not caring. “Though I always root for the underdog so the fact the blue and white team, the North Melbourne Kangaroos are thrashing the locals, is a good thing.”
“Don’t let anyone in this parochial crowd let you hear that.” Kye pointed to the Swans emblem on his cap. “Sydney Swans rule.”
“What are you, five?”
Kye raised his beer in a mock toast. “Come on, man, I’m trying to get your mind off things. Surround you in testosterone. Make sure you don’t turn into a wuss.”
“Just because I love Ellie doesn’t make me any less manly.”
“Just because I love Ellie…” Kye imitated in an exaggerated falsetto. “Heads up, Irish, talking mushy shit does make you sound less of a man.”
I placed my plastic cup filled to the brim on the concrete under my chair. “Listen, this was a bad idea. I’m leaving—”
“I thought telling Ellie how you feel might make a difference.” Kye shook his head. “Guess I was wrong.”
I paused. “What do you mean?”
“Ellie’s…flawed.” Kye hesitated, downed the rest of his beer, before continuing. “I’ve known her a long time and she’s buttoned up tighter than a nun’s habit. She won’t let anyone in. She doesn’t trust easily.”
He poked me in the chest. “So if you told her how you feel and she still shut you out? I don’t think you’ve got a hope in Hades.”
But I did have a hope.
If what Kye had just said was true, Ellie didn’t trust anyone. So why did she trust me with the truth?
“You don’t know anything about her past?”
Kye shook his head. “Don’t think she told Mum either. She just arrived one day, they became friends and Ellie became a Kings Cross fixture.”
That sealed it. If I was the only one she’d told about not being able to have kids and her guy running out on her because of it, she did feel something for me. And she’d used the truth to push me away before I got any closer.
For the first time since last night’s confrontation, I felt like punching the air in victory.
We weren’t over and I knew just what I had to do to convince Ellie of that.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
ELLIE
Sunday had officially sucked: waking at two in the afternoon with a monster hangover, sneaking around to avoid Finn only to find him gone, Kye ignoring my frantic texts to sack Finn, and ending with me booking into a cheap motel on the outskirts of the city to avoid Finn until I could get Kye to do my dirty work.
Considering I still couldn’t get hold of Kye, Monday wasn’t shaping up any better.
My second double latte of the morning did little to wake me as I perched on my favorite bench at Circular Quay, watching the ferries. This was my ritual, a calming start to the week that never failed to quell the jaded cynic in me and resurrect the hidden optimist.
Because every Monday when I came to watch the busy harbor, I remembered doing a similar thing with my parents. Sitting by the manmade lake in Dubbo every week, watching the sailboats. It had been the rare time my parents were happy. Almost carefree. Buying me ice creams. Smiling at each other. Occasionally holding hands. Before Mum got bored and ran off with a younger guy, leaving Dad heartbroken and morose and disinterested in parenting his only child.
I’d hated Mum for her selfishness. Blamed her for my lack of siblings and lost family. It was the reason I’d wanted to have kids early, to make my own family.
Look how that had turned out.
But I returned to Circular Quay every Monday morning to remember a time I was happy, before family bust-ups and relationship failings and having my heart ripped out because I couldn’t have what I wanted most.
“Thought I might find you here.”
My heart sank as Finn sat next to me: too close, too gorgeous, too much.
“Leave me alone,” I growled, draining the last of my coffee and instantly craving another. Not that I really needed it, because the caffeine didn’t give me half as much of a buzz as Finn’s proximity.
“Can’t do that,” he said, resting his elbows on the back of the bench and stretching out his legs, looking like a carefree tourist lapping up the sun. “We need to talk.”
“No, we don’t.” I crushed the plastic cup in my hand and lobbed it into a nearby bin. “And by the way, you’re fired. So pack your things and get out before I return.”
To my astonishment, he laughed. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
“Would you prefer I take out a restraining order?” My tone was sickly sweet. “Bet that would go down a treat with Immigration and your working visa.”
He didn’t speak and when I shot him a sideways glance, rather than seeing panic, I glimpsed amusement.
“You’d do anything to get rid of me, huh?”
“Yep.” If I nodded any harder my head would fall off.
“Too bad for you, because I’m not going anywhere.” He swiveled to face me and his fingertip brushed my shoulder. I jumped at the surge that awakened my body far better than the two lattes. “You trusted me with the truth. Now it’s time I trusted you.”
Damn him for piquing my curiosity.
“I’ll take your silence as approval to continue?” His mouth twisted into a wry grin and I had a hard time blocking out the vivid memories of how his mouth felt against mine. And lower.
Cursing my stupidity for wanting to hear what he had to say, I managed the briefest of nods.
“The turf position in Melbourne? My grandfather’s dream, not mine.” He huffed out a long sigh. “I’m the epitome of the good Irish son. Family comes first. Lived in Cork my whole life. Went into the patriarchal business. Had a staid relationship with the girl next door.”
“I know all this,” I muttered, on the verge of saying to hell with this and bolting. Nothing Finn could say or do would change facts: no way could we be a couple, ever.
“L
et me finish.” He cleared his throat. “Being the family’s poster boy can become pretty bloody tiring, so I’m done. Time to live life on my terms.”
He stared at me, beseeching me to understand, while I remained clueless.
“I don’t see what you finding a pair of balls has anything to do with me.”
His roguish smile alerted me to an incoming zinger. “On the contrary, you seem to be very interested in my balls.”
For the first time in twenty-four hours, I felt like laughing. But I didn’t, because making light of this situation would do nothing to speed up the end goal: getting Finn to leave once and for all.
“Turf management was a stopgap for me. I can see that now.” He reached for my hand and I snatched it away, folding my arms and tucking my hands against my sides. “Honestly? I don’t know what the hell I want to do career-wise, but I’m damn sure who I want as my partner while I make important decisions, and that’s you.”
I hated how my heart leapt at his sincere declaration. “Important decisions like how many kids to have?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ve never lied to you and I’m not about to start now. Yeah, I want kids. But don’t you think we should have a real relationship first?”
“What’s the point, when I can’t give you what you want—”
“This is the point.”
Before I could react he kissed me, hard and fast and frantic. I should push him away, I knew that, but for a few mindless moments I allowed myself to indulge in the firmness of his lips, the talent of his tongue, and the sensations that flooded my body whenever he did this.
Surprisingly, he broke the kiss before I did, holding me at arm’s length, his breathing ragged. “Tell me you don’t want this.”
I had to lie. It was my only option. But I’d vowed to never be like my mum, who’d lived a lie before running away without a second thought.
“I don’t want us to start a relationship that’s doomed from the start.” He opened his mouth to respond and I rushed on. “I don’t want you to end up regretting our involvement or worse, resenting me.”
“But you’ve told me the truth upfront so I know what I’m getting into,” he said, willing me to believe with his persuasive tone. “Here are the facts. I’m staying in Sydney because of you. Not because I need a visa. Not because I want anything from you. But because I…care about you.”
His quick look-away hinted at something more than caring and knowing he may feel the same way I did made this all the harder.
“My folks had a massive age gap, fifteen years, so mum got bored and ran away with a younger guy when I was little,” I said, not surprised when his eyes widened. “I’m reluctant to let history repeat.”
“But you wouldn’t be running away from anything.” He rubbed my upper arms and damned if I didn’t sway toward him. “You’d be running toward something. Me.”
He made it sound so simple, so logical. Yet so insane.
“Let me clue you in to what happens when a relationship implodes. My Dad was left a shattered man incapable of making an emotional connection, let alone caring for his daughter. So I ended up wanting the one thing I didn’t have, a family, and hooked up with the first guy who looked my way because of it.”
The truth tumbled out of me in a rush and once I started I couldn’t stop. “I moved in with Dougal the day I turned eighteen, in a perfect cottage we could barely afford. But I was starry-eyed and hopeful and in love. So in love I wanted to start a family ASAP to make up for the family I’d never had.”
Finn’s hands stilled, supporting my elbows, solid. I saw the surprise in his eyes. Wait until he heard the rest.
“He proposed a month later. I accepted. We wanted to have our kids young and close together.” I dragged in a breath, the pain of the past making my lungs seize. “When it didn’t happen for us, we went through investigations. I discovered I was reproductively challenged and a month later Dougal left town.”
Finn’s fingers dug into me. “I’m so sorry—”
“That’s the thing about being damaged. Doesn’t make people want to stick around.” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “First Mum did a runner, then Dougal bolted, so I left my picket fence dreams behind, moved to the Cross, toughened up and discovered it’s much easier depending on myself.”
“You’re not damaged.” Sorrow darkened his eyes to the deepest green as he cupped my face. “You’ve put your faith in the wrong people. Let me be part of your life, Ellie. I promise I won’t let you down.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I muttered, looking over his shoulder so I wouldn’t be tempted to drown in his eyes, eyes filled with sincerity. “Want to know why I chose the Cross to settle? Because it’s real and in your face and brutally honest. It doesn’t pretend to be something it’s not. It lets me be the person I want to be.”
He released me, stepped back and gestured at my outfit. “That’s what the armor’s all about, isn’t it? The leather, the make-up, the chunky jewelry, it’s a mask to help you blend in.”
“So?”
“But don’t you see, you’re giving up on your dream?”
My lips compressed. “I’m running a successful bar in the toughest part of town. I’m living the dream.”
“You’re settling.”
“Fuck you,” I said, turning away, but he wouldn’t let me, his hand landing on my shoulder to spin me back around.
“What’s reproductively challenged anyway? Not impossible to have kids, right? Which means you’re the one who’s running, who’s too damn scared to face the tough stuff to get what you want. You want kids? Then do something about it.”
I shrugged off his hand and shoved him away, my latent anger sparking by the hint of truth in his too astute observation. “You volunteering? To go through endless rounds of jerking off into a cup, giving me hormone injections, coping with mood swings, hospital visits, probable miscarriages and the exorbitant cost?”
For the first time since I’d met him, Finn looked angry, genuinely angry. A deep frown slashed his brows, his neck muscles bulged and his fingers curled into fists.
“Didn’t you hear a word I fucking said earlier? Of course I’m volunteering,” he yelled, causing several passersby to glance our way. It didn’t faze him. “I love you, for Chrissakes and I want to be with you for the long haul, good times and bad, whatever it takes.”
Shock rendered me speechless as he started to pace, muttering under his breath. “Goddamn stubborn woman. Too independent for your own good. Why can’t you accept the fact I’m crazy for you and won’t run out ‘til you kick me out on my arse?”
And for the first time since he’d found me here, I dared to believe.
Finn was right. I was scared. Terrified, in fact, of trying to have kids and failing. Or discovering it was too bloody hard and I wasn’t up to the effort.
But here was a guy willing to try. A guy who loved me.
A guy I loved.
In the end, I guess it came down to that.
I loved Finn.
In a way I’d never loved anyone and if I headed down this tension-fraught road, I couldn’t think of anyone else I’d rather have by my side.
With unfamiliar elation fizzing through my body, I stood and broached the short distance between us. “How about we trial a relationship first, then see if your swimmers and my eggs are compatible later on?”
His head jerked up, his stunned gaze searching my face for answers I was finally, finally, ready to give.
“You mean—”
“Come here, you big, Irish hunk.” I grabbed him and kissed the life out of him, before coming up for air. “And by the way? I love you, too.”
The sound of a Manly ferry horn drowned out his response. I didn’t care. There’d be plenty of time for words later. Maybe a lifetime of Irish-accent-laced words if I was lucky.
EPILOGUE
Two years later...
FINN
“I’m worried about Kye.” I wrapped my
arm around Ellie as we watched our best friend annihilate an opponent under a blazing Sydney summer sun. While I loved living in this vibrant city, I’d never get used to the heat.
“Me too,” Ellie said, staring at Kye refusing to shake his opponent’s hand before slouching off to the sidelines to swipe a towel over his face. “I’ve never seen him this angry all the time. Has he said anything to you?”
“No. You?”
She shook her head, soft honey-brown waves caressing my shoulder. I may have fallen in love with a spiky-haired platinum blonde, but I liked this softer version of her just as much. “You two hang out together. Surely you’ve picked up a vibe, a clue to what’s really bugging him, something?”
I snorted. “We’re guys. We body surf at Bondi. Drink beer at the footy. D&Ms aren’t a feature.”
She elbowed me. “Ssh, he’s coming this way.”
We both stood and waited for Kye to reach us. If he’d looked angry on the court, where he’d wiped his opponent 6-0, 6-1, 6-0, he positively glowered now. Something was definitely wrong and if I hadn’t been so manic over the last twelve months doing a part-time management course while working the bar, and supporting Ellie through our third attempt at IVF, I would’ve noticed sooner.
“Great game, mate.” I stuck out my hand and Kye almost broke it, his grip too firm, as he grunted a greeting.
“You okay?” Ellie touched Kye’s arm and he flinched.
“Hey.” Seriously concerned, I removed my arm from Ellie’s waist and took a step toward him. “Want to get a beer?”
Kye shook his head, and when he finally met my gaze, I almost recoiled. I’d never seen so much devastated resignation before.
“I’m on probation at the academy.” Kye glared at us like we’d been the ones to do it. “Got into a fight with a junior dickhead.”
I wanted to say he must’ve had a good reason but over the last twenty-four months I’d got to know the young Aussie pretty well, and in that time I’d seen Kye’s resentment build. As if he was angry with the world and didn’t know what to do about it.
“Anything we can do?” Ellie reached out to Kye again and this time, he let her hand linger on his shoulder a moment before stepping out of touch distance.
“Nah, I’ve just got to get my shit together,” Kye said, looking like it’d take a year of therapy to shift the baggage he carried around. “Thanks for coming down to watch me today.”