Chapter Thirteen
The evenings for the rest of the week had passed similarly: Cillian would call and we’d chat for what felt like a short amount of time, but turned out to be hours. No topic was off the table, whether that was holiday destinations Cillian kept meaning to visit, but never got around to—I did really well during that conversation not to point out that there was only one person stopping him from going wherever his heart desired—or major plot holes in films we’d both seen years ago.
Tonight though, he hadn’t rung when he was supposed to, and my flat vibrated with the silence. Quasimodo watched with his head slightly cocked to one side as I turned my phone over and over in my hands, the movement doing nothing to make it ring. “I know what you’re thinking,” I said when he hadn’t blinked for over a minute. “You think this is the beginning of it, and that I should be surprised he lasted as long as he did.”
The cat continued to stare. “I didn’t take you in, so you could sit and judge me. Yes… I could ring him. But then what if he doesn’t answer? It’s making a thing out of it, isn’t it? And things have been good. Really good. Is half an hour really such a big deal?” I checked my watch and grimaced. “Okay, not half an hour, an hour. But still…” I turned the phone over again. “Anyway, I don’t know why you’re side-eyeing me. You’re Cillian’s biggest fan. If he walked in here now, you’d push me out of the way to get to him.” Quasimodo turned his back on me and started washing his face. “The truth hurts, doesn’t it?”
Another hour passed, a familiar sense of dread settling in the pit of my stomach. I’d dared to dream over the past few days as I’d gotten to know him better, and he me. I’d seen a future where Cillian’s epiphany about his work/life balance, about what it would take to make our relationship work, was honest and genuine, and I’d truly believed he was prepared to jump through whatever hoops were necessary to make changes.
“Okay,” I finally said, once Quasimodo’s grooming routine had reached a satisfactory conclusion and he’d started pacing, the remnants of his tail twitching. “I’ll call him.” It rang and rang before going to voicemail. I didn’t leave a message because I didn’t trust myself not to be irrationally abrasive. “So he’s busy. No big deal. It’s one night.”
I was in the bathroom when my phone finally rang. The land speed record came close to being broken as I sprinted back into the living room, almost tripped over Quasimodo, and snatched it up. “Hey! I was worried about you.”
“Were you?” said a female voice. “That’s really sweet. No one ever worries about me.”
It took me a moment to place the voice. “Amrita?”
“Finn,” she said warmly. “Long time, no speak. Or should I say…” A cascade of French followed, spoken far too quickly for me to decipher more than the occasional word, and I wasn’t a hundred percent certain sure they were accurate.
Her being able to speak French didn’t surprise me. I had an inkling there weren’t many things she couldn’t do. She really had been wasted in that coffee shop before Cillian had stumbled across her. “Right,” I said, not understanding what I’d just agreed to.
“You’re probably wondering why I’m calling you.”
“It crossed my mind.” A tingle of panic raced up my spine. “Is it Cillian? He’s alright, isn’t he?” How awful would it be if the reason he hadn’t called was because he couldn’t, and I’d been thinking the worst of him.
“He’s fine, don’t worry. An emergency cropped up. A work one, not a personal one.”
I’d once mocked him for talking about advertising emergencies, rubbishing the very idea of them. Therefore, I had to work hard to keep the cynicism out of my voice. “What sort of emergency?”
“The sort where one of our major clients has gone absolutely ballistic and no matter how many monkeys we threw his way, wouldn’t be pacified by anything less than talking to the organ grinder himself.”
“And Cillian couldn’t find five minutes to ring me himself and explain?”
There was amusement in Amrita’s voice when she answered. “Well, the last time I saw him, he was being sworn at in three different languages.”
“Three! Impressive.”
“Isn’t it? Anyway, he begged me to call you. He seemed to think you’d break it off with him… again… if you thought he’d simply forgotten to call. And no matter how many times, I pointed out that the Finn I knew is far more rational than that, he wouldn’t believe me. So here I am passing on the message that Cillian would much rather be whispering sweet nothings to you than verbally sparring with a man who believes he knows more about advertising than Cillian does.”
“You make me sound like an absolute nightmare,” I said with a grimace.
“Not a nightmare. Just…”
“Go on. You can be honest.”
“I think you’re waiting for Cillian to mess up again, and he knows that. And he fears falling short of your expectations and losing you for good. He knows he won’t get a third chance. He likes you Finn. He really likes you. But you have him over a barrel, and that’s not a good basis for any relationship.”
I chewed on her words for a few moments. “Can I ask you something, Amrita?”
“Sure.”
“As an observer, and as someone who knows Cillian better than anyone, how do you see us ending up?”
I braced myself for the answer, knowing she’d be brutally honest. “I can see the two of you being disgustingly happy together once you work out how. The how is the difficult part.”
“Yeah, it is,” I admitted.
“But you won’t get there by holding back. You’re either willing to give things a proper go, or you’re not. Don’t keep him dangling on a piece of string, if you’re just going to give up on him at the first sign of trouble.”
“I wouldn’t,” I said. But we both knew it was a lie.
“And if he knew I’d said that to you,” Amrita said with a sigh. “He would probably fire me. For real, this time. I know who he’d choose if it came down to a choice between me or you.”
I laughed. “Yeah, right?” The silence that followed my statement said she hadn’t been joking. “This conversation won’t go any further,” I said. “You’re important to Cillian. Therefore, you’re important to me as well.”
“You see,” she said. “That’s the type of thing a girl likes to hear. So… can I buy a hat or not?”
“A hat?”
“For the wedding.”
“Whose wedding?”
She made a sound in her throat. “It’s a good job you’re pretty.”
“What?”
“Nothing. I didn’t say a word. So yeah,” she said after a pause. “Cut him a bit of slack, would you? He already got it in the neck for taking off to Paris the way he did.”
“From who?”
“Me. Shareholders. His sister because he was supposed to be having dinner with her. Clients who couldn’t reach him when he threw his phone in the river.”
“He told you about that?”
“Yeah, he told me.”
“It was sweet,” I said, unable to hold back a smile at the memory.
“It was stupid, was what it was.”
“But sweet.”
“If you say so.” I could hear the roll of her eyes as clear as day. “Cillian’s always had a flare for the dramatic.”
“I like that about him,” I said. “I like more things about him with every day that passes.”
“Have you told him that?”
“I…”
“Yeah, I thought so. Holding back,” she said, “making him bend over backwards to please you. I guess you’re entitled in a way, but these things have a habit of coming back to bite you in the ass, if you’re not careful.” There was a rustle of paper, and then. “Jesus! Is that the time? If I don’t go home now, there won’t be any point in going before I need to come back.”
“Can you pass a message on to him before you go?”
“Depends what it is.” Amrita’s hackles were raised; I could feel it.
“Ask him to Skype me before he goes to bed. Tell him it doesn’t matter how late it is, that I’ll wait up for him.” Silence followed my statement. “I want to check if he’s alright,” I added quickly. “It sounds like he’s having a really shit day. He might need someone to talk to, someone to make him feel better.”
“I’ll tell him,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“And Finn?”
“Yeah?”
“Just so you know, I’m equally hard on him. He doesn’t get a free pass to mistreat anyone, like he did to you. But…”
“It’s in the past.” I finished for her. “Time to move on.”
“Bingo! He gets it. I’m going to buy that hat, so don’t let me down.”
“I’ll try not to.”
It was nearly midnight before the familiar sound emanated from my laptop speakers. I rushed over to accept the call, Cillian’s profile filling the screen as I slid into the chair. It was a different Cillian than the one I was used to seeing. This one looked like he’d been through the wringer. He had tousled hair; shadows under his eyes, and sported dark stubble. He was also shirtless, my eyes drawn to the perfect symmetry of a muscular chest that I hadn’t seen since that fateful day in his office when we’d last fucked. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said before he could speak. “I was waiting for a call from my boyfriend, but I seem to have clicked on an Only Fans account instead.” I let my gaze drift slowly over him, making no attempt to keep the heat out of my eyes. “Whatever you charge, though, I’m happy to pay it.”
Cillian laughed, the sound weary. “For you, it’s free. Actually…” He sat up straighter with a slight glint in his eye. “There is a price.”
“Name it. First-born child? The one remaining ear of my cat?”
“I suddenly feel very naked,” Cillian drawled. “Perhaps I’d feel less so if I weren’t the only one sitting here without a shirt on. Only if you’re comfortable, though.”
He’d barely finished his sentence before I was pulling it over my head. I dropped it on the floor and Quasimodo made a beeline for it to check out its functionality as a new bed. Because in his little cat brain, there couldn’t be any other reason for me doing something except to please him. We really needed to have a word about who was in charge.
Cillian devoured me with his eyes as I leaned back in the chair, my nipples immediately pebbling from the scrutiny. It was strange. We’d seen each other naked more times than I could count on the fingers of both hands, but this felt new, like we were two completely different men, and therefore, back to square one.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t call you when I was supposed to,” Cillian said with regret in his eyes. “I wanted to.”
“I know. Amrita explained.”
“Did she? Or did she make things worse? Because sending her into a situation is a bit like playing Russian roulette, and you’re never sure what you’re going to get. She has very strong opinions, and she’s not afraid to share them, even if the other person isn’t that keen on being forced to listen to her take on things.”
“She was fine. We had a good chat. She made me see a few things in a different light.”
Cillian frowned. “Like what?”
“Just… things.” I leaned closer to the screen. “How are you? Are you okay?”
“I thought you’d be angry with me. Or at the very least, upset. I didn’t even make it a week before dumping you for work. Which is precisely what I promised I wouldn’t do.”
I considered the words I wanted to say, Amrita’s little speech still ringing in my ears. “It’s unrealistic to think you’ll always be able to put me first. You run a business. I understand that. And sometimes, things will come up. Important things. All I ask is that you try to put me first most of the time. Which, you’ve been doing,” I added quickly. “And I’ve really appreciated it.”
Cillian looked taken aback by my words. “I’ve been trying.”
“I know. I can see that.” Given we’d gone off on a slight tangent, I repeated my earlier question. “How are you? Did you talk your client down from the ledge?”
Cillian let out a frustrated sigh. “I think so. Unless he works up a second wind while he’s asleep. It happens sometimes, people agreeing that we’re the experts and putting themselves in our hands, only to take exception if the finished product isn’t what they expected. Common sense goes out of the window and they forget that we’re the people who know how to sell something. I wouldn’t mind if he’d had ideas of his own that we’d ignored, but he didn’t. He was a blank slate.” Cillian seemed to catch himself. “Sorry. I’m probably boring you to tears.”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t interested. You look exhausted. Tell me if I’m keeping you up and you just want to go to bed.”
Cillian leaned forward over the desk and shook his head. “No! It’s good to talk to you.” He smiled. “Skype was a good call. It means I can actually see you.”
“I’ve missed you,” I admitted, as surprised by my own words as Cillian seemed to be, if the slight rise of his eyebrows was any indication. “I have,” I said more definitively. “I don’t want you to think that this is some sort of game to me. It isn’t. It never has been. Any defensiveness, any holding back on my part, is just about protecting myself.” There. Take that, Amrita. I can be vulnerable if I want to be.
“I know.” Cillian’s gaze bored into me for a few seconds. “I miss you too. I wish I was there.”
“What would you do if you were?”
A slow smile spread across his face. “Do you really want to know?”
My breath hitched at the implied promise in his eyes, and I considered my answer before responding. “Yeah. I do.”