Chapter Five
It was mid-morning before Laurent succeeded in his intention of getting me alone.
We stepped outside for the illusion of privacy to where the smokers usually congregated, concern etched on my friend’s face while I detailed everything that had occurred after his departure.
“And then what happened?”
“He took me home.”
“I bet he did,” Laurent said with a knowing smirk.
“Actually, he only escorted me to the door of my building.” That alone had kept me awake for an hour as I’d struggled to work out whether I was relieved or disappointed Cillian hadn’t tried to invite himself in or move in for a kiss.
“So… he’s given up?” Laurent asked. “He took on board what you had to say?”
“I think so.”
“Good!”
“Yeah…” Laurent’s narrow-eyed stare had me reflecting on the lack of conviction in my answer. I tried again. “So yeah, it was good. I had a chance to say all the things I never got to say, and he acknowledged that he’d been a terrible boyfriend. And in return, he got his explanation for why I left the way I did, and a recognition that it wasn’t the best way of handling things on my end. I guess it was closure for both of us.”
“Hmm… closure,” Laurent said, not sounding too convinced. “So why aren’t you happier about it?”
“What?” I studied his face for signs he was winding me up, but found none.
“It’s what you wanted, right? Cillian out of your life. That’s what you said weeks ago when you first told me about him. Only…” He paused for dramatic effect. “That’s not what I saw last night. Want to know what I saw?”
“Probably not,” I muttered while staring at my feet.
“Well… I’m going to tell you, anyway. I saw a man who still has feelings for his ex-boyfriend, who, despite being completely blindsided by him turning up out of the blue, couldn’t bring himself to pretend he’d moved on when I offered myself as sacrifice.”
“I don’t like lying,” I said. “That’s all. You don’t need to make it sound more complicated than it is.”
“Yet, you went out with him for a coffee.”
“I owed him an explanation.”
“Yet, you went out with him for a drink after you’d already given him the explanation.” All I could do was sigh at that. It was true what they said about the truth hurting. “Yet, you let him escort you home.”
“He threw his phone in the river,” I said. “I felt bad.”
Laurent tipped his head to one side and studied me. “What would you have done if he’d tried to kiss you?”
“Pushed him off. Told him it wasn’t happening. Made it clear I wasn’t one of his advertising campaigns where he could control the outcome.”
“Hmm…”
I was beginning to really hate that sound from Laurent. It reeked of disbelief. “You think I would have kissed him?”
“Much as I hate to admit it, he’s a handsome man.”
“He was handsome when I left. I still left. Nothing’s changed. I’m over him.”
“Are you? Because your actions say otherwise.”
I turned my head to study a tree a few feet away. It was a hawthorn tree unless my tree identification skills were failing me. “What are you trying to say?”
“That maybe you should give him another chance. The man threw his phone in the river, so he’s obviously starting to get it. Maybe he can change.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“No?”
“I gave him his answer yesterday. He’s probably halfway back to London by now.” I turned my wrist to check what time it was. “In fact, he’s probably already there. He’ll be in his office, asking his PA to get him a new phone ASAP, and making up a story about what happened to the old one, that I’d bet everything I own won’t involve any mention of a river.” Rather than the relief I should have felt, the words filled me with a strange sort of sadness. Which was stupid. I knew where Cillian was should I ever want to find him. I’d always known where he was. I was the one who’d left him there.
Laurent let out a breath. “All I’m saying is—”
I cut him off before he could finish his thought. “It doesn’t matter. It’s too late.”
The rest of the day passed with astounding mediocrity as I struggled to keep my mind on work, the data I pored over refusing to play ball and analyze itself. After our chat, Laurent had given me a wide berth. I assumed I was supposed to spend the time mulling over his words.
When the end of my working day finally came, after what felt more like three days than one, Laurent was nowhere to be seen. Neither was anyone else I spent time with outside work. Which left me with little choice but to return home. The stray cat made another attempt to infiltrate the building, hoping either I wouldn’t notice or would turn a blind eye to it sneaking between my legs. I shooed it away, and it gave me a disdainful look as it strutted off with what remained of its tail in the air.
I wasn’t in the mood to cook, but, as I stared at the congealed mess of a microwave dinner that looked even worse than it smelled, I had cause to regret my lack of effort. Having zero inclinations to even try it, I pondered a takeaway. The knock at the door interrupted my consideration of which one spoke good enough English that my piss poor attempts at ordering in French wouldn’t be required.
Laurent, here to apologize, maybe? If so, I’d gladly accept it, and then maybe I could drag him out for something to eat, where the two of us could spend the evening talking about anything except Cillian.
My breath hitched as I opened the door. No Laurent. Instead, it seemed I was to be treated to an action replay of yesterday. Tonight, instead of his casual clothes from the previous evening, Cillian wore an expensive-looking pin-striped suit. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t seen before, but the sight after so long was jarring. If there was one thing you couldn’t deny about Cillian King, it was that he looked good in a suit.
“Hi,” he said before I could speak. “I realize this is a little strange, me just turning up at your door like this, but I saw you last night, and I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since.” He extended a hand my way. “Cillian King.”
I stared at his outstretched hand, my brain playing catch-up with what was going on here. Did he really think it was that simple? That we could just erase the past and start again? The idea was ludicrous. Yet, I couldn’t deny there being something strangely alluring about it. Like the man standing in front of me wasn’t the one I’d spent six months with, but someone else entirely. Someone who’d apparently viewed me from afar, had liked what they saw and followed me home, but not in a stalker way.
There was something almost pleading in Cillian’s expression as I lifted my gaze to his, like this really mattered to him. It tipped the scales and had me reaching for his hand, my palm tingling as we made contact. “Finlay Prescott. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” The handshake lingered. My doing? His? Both? I wasn’t sure. “So you followed me home?” I asked.
“I had to. I couldn’t just let you walk out of my life.”
There was no missing the double meaning. “And what is it you want from me, Mr. King?”
“To take you out. To romance you.” I didn’t realize his left hand had been behind his back the whole time until he pulled it out to reveal a single red rose. “A bit cliched, I know.”
Cillian had never bought me flowers when we were together. Maybe because we were both men. Or perhaps it had just never occurred to him. I couldn’t say there’d been any romancing at all squeezed between the hot, sweaty sex. And while that hadn’t been the deal breaker, I had to admit it would have been nice. It would have at least told me he’d given more thought to me than the quickest way to get me out of my clothes.
I took the rose. “I don’t mind something being a cliche.”
“No?” Cillian sounded surprised.
“No. There’s a thin line between a cliche and tradition sometimes.”
“I suppose so.”
“What now?” I asked.
“I hope it’s not too forward of me, but I booked a table at a restaurant. If you don’t agree to accompany me, I’ll still go, but I’ll eat alone.”
Even with the suit and the rose, the news that he intended taking me for dinner came as a surprise. I waved a hand at my sweatpants and T-shirt, my feet bare. “I’m not really dressed for dinner.”
“I can wait while you get changed. I booked the table in an hour because I thought I might need time to persuade you to go with me.”
“Because… we’ve never met before,” I said. “And you weren’t sure I would go out with a complete stranger?”
“Exactly.”
I chewed on the dilemma for a few seconds. Back inside to stare at the microwave meal, which would look even less appetizing for having stood around for a few extra minutes, or continue this charade and see where it took us?
Maybe you should give him another chance.
Not my words, Laurent’s from a few hours ago. What would he make of this? He’d probably commend Cillian, both for his creativity and for his determination, when I’d had him giving up and back in his office in London.
“Okay,” I agreed before I thought better of it. “Do you… er… want to come in and wait while I change?”
There was no hesitation before Cillian shook his head. “I’ll wait out here.”
“You don’t have to. I wouldn’t have invited you in if I minded.”
“I don’t think it’s wise,” he said. “We haven’t even gone on a date together yet, and I’m not a man who likes to rush things.”
There was no stopping the laugh that burst out of me. Because that was the opposite of the Cillian I’d known. We’d met at a party and he’d had me in bed before the night was through. Not that I’d put up much of a fight, the attraction between us instant and combustible. But yeah, we’d definitely rushed things, and we hadn’t dated before having sex.
When the look in Cillian’s eyes warned me not to point out the obvious, I settled for a tactful withdrawal instead, leaving the door open a crack in case he changed his mind about waiting out in the corridor.
I threw the microwave meal in the bin before going into the bedroom to change. If Cillian came in, I didn’t want him seeing what I’d almost stooped to eating prior to his arrival. In the bedroom, I went through my wardrobe, discounting most of it before finally settling on a black shirt and trousers teamed with a tan jacket. The clothes were new, bought in a shopping trip Laurent had dragged me on, so at least Cillian hadn’t seen them before, which wasn’t the case with ninety percent of my wardrobe. There was nothing I could do about the stubble I sported, but I spent a few minutes teasing my hair into something that looked less like I’d spent all day at work and then sat on a sofa for an hour.
When I came out of the bedroom, the flat was still empty. Conversation in the corridor had me frowning. Had Adeline stumbled across Cillian? If so, I dreaded to think about what the two of them were discussing. She was probably telling him how noisy I could be and requesting he talk to me about it.
There was no Adeline outside when I opened the door, though. Only Cillian down on his knees, not seeming remotely bothered that he risked ruining his fancy suit as he petted the ginger stray and mumbled things that sounded suspiciously like endearments to it. I closed the door quickly before it could think about darting into my flat and making itself at home.
Cillian glanced my way, but continued to pet the cat with no signs of him getting up off the floor. “You’re a handsome boy, aren’t you? Yes, you are. It doesn’t matter that you’re missing one ear. It just gives you character. Yes, it does.” The cat was purring so loudly I could hear him, even from a distance.
“I didn’t know you liked cats,” I said.
“Love them,” Cillian said. “I grew up with three.”
“You don’t have one.”
He pulled a face. “I spend too much time at work. It wouldn’t be fair.”
“You could keep one at the office. It would even have a bed to sleep on.”
He angled a sly look my way as he compromised by climbing to his feet, but bringing the cat with him cradled to his chest. It seemed happy to nestle in as Cillian rubbed a spot just under his chin. “How do you know I’ve got a bed in my office?”
“How do I—?” And then I remembered the game we were supposed to be playing, that we’d only just met and this was our first date. “Right… Lucky guess.”
Now he was vertical, Cillian’s gaze slid over me appreciatively. “You look good.”
“Thank you.” It seemed churlish not to offer something in return. “You don’t look half bad yourself.”
Cillian returned his attention to the cat. “I’m sorry I can’t take you with me, buddy, but I’m trying to impress a new man I met and threes a crowd. Maybe we take you home first.”
“He doesn’t have one. He’s a stray. One that shouldn’t be in the building. He must have sneaked in with someone. You have to be careful not to open the door too wide or he’s in here like a shot.”
“He just wants to be somewhere warm. Don’t you, buddy?” The cat purred louder and looked like he’d happily spend the rest of eternity in Cillian’s arms if it was on offer.
The empathy in Cillian’s voice made me feel bad for every time I’d shut the cat out without a second thought. Of course, it would rather be inside than out at this time of year. We might have hit early spring, but temperatures were still low most days. “I suppose we could leave him inside, rather than throwing him out on the street. It’s not like he can do much harm roaming round the building.”
Cillian deposited the cat gently on the floor and it scurried off down the corridor. “What cat?”
I rolled my eyes as I followed him to the exit. I guess I’d officially taken leave of my senses and I was doing this. There was no other way to describe going on a first date with your ex-boyfriend.