Chapter 42 Chris
Chris
I sit up in bed, a familiar smell wafting up from downstairs. I shiver, pulling the sheet up to my chin and look down, suddenly realising I’m naked.
Naked?
Oh, Jesus…
I jump up, quickly rummaging around for something to wear, but all I can find is my underwear from last night.
Fuck.
Did I leave my clothes downstairs? Did he? And, more importantly – when did he leave?
Well, I guess I should’ve expected it sooner or later – after all, I told him to leave so that Evan wouldn’t see him. So why do I feel like crying like a little girl?
I should know by now what men are like – especially one like Ryan O’Connor.
I shouldn’t have expected anything from him. A couple of orgasms – or maybe it was three…
I quickly jump under the shower, and five minutes later I’m in my big, soft dressing gown, ready to go downstairs and greet my lovely teenage son, who’s apparently decided to try and cook something this morning.
I tread barefoot down the stairs, tightening my dressing gown around my waist, and I pass the living room, heading into the kitchen. The smell of coffee just starts to reach my nostrils, when his laugh stops me in my tracks.
I lean my shoulder against the doorframe – the scene in front of me has broken off a little piece of my heart.
Ryan is still here. He’s here with Evan. Ryan and Evan are making breakfast together.
Ryan stayed the whole night.
“Oh, good morning!” Evan notices me. “Don’t get used to this, okay? It wasn’t my idea.” He smiles happily, and my heart leaps in desperation.
“Good morning,” Ryan says awkwardly, without peeling himself away from the hob.
Evan looks from me to him then says: “Should I… er… go upstairs for a minute… or, er… outside – yeah, I’ll go outside,” and he dashes out the front door.
Ryan slowly approaches me, his hands in his pockets and his eyes on the floor.
“You thought I’d gone.”
I nod.
“I fell asleep. I didn’t even hear Evan come home.”
“Okay.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I didn’t want to put you in an awkward situation.”
“Evan’s great, he’ll understand.”
“I made some coffee,” he says, smiling lopsidedly.
“Thank God,” I say right away.
Ryan laughs. His laugh is beautiful, so full and contagious.
I laugh, too, illuminated by his newfound easygoingness, by his laid-back presence – something I know I desperately need to be a part of.
“Shall we have breakfast?” he asks, nodding towards the breakfast bar.
“I’ll go and get Evan.”
“Evan’s here,” a voice calls, followed by the sound of the front door slamming behind him. “So, have we talked everything out here?”
“Evan!”
“If you’re arguing for my sake, there’s no point.”
“Why can’t you go back to being five years old again?”
“If I was five, Mum, you’d have a real problem trying to explain to me what Mr Muscle is doing in our house.”
Ryan bursts out laughing and Evan follows suit – after a few moments, I join in, too.
And we laugh and laugh as we sit down at the breakfast bar together.
We laugh some more as Evan steals the last bit of bacon, taunting Ryan with it.
And I laugh even harder when Evan tells Ryan that he found his shirt on the living room floor last night when he came home, and tells him that he’s happy to see that it’s currently being worn inside-out, making coffee explode from Ryan’s nostrils.
But inside, I’m crying from desperation; I know that this scene is just a dream, and the moment I’m forced to wake up, I’ll be left with a sea of pain.
After breakfast, Evan goes up to his room to get ready to go out with his friends. I walk Ryan to the front door.
“I have to go. We’re having a family lunch today, and I have to swing home first to have a shower.”
“Sure.”
“I’m sorry if I’ve made anything awkward for you.”
“You haven’t, don’t worry.”
“Evan’s a bright kid.”
“Yeah – too bright.”
He smiles.
“Christine… last night…”
“You don’t have to say anything, Ryan. Really.”
He nods, lowering his gaze.
“I really should…”
I open the door and he steps outside.
“See you,” he says, embarrassed.
“See you, Ryan,” I say, closing the door then closing my eyes. Of course, the waterworks have decided to make an appearance.
“Are you okay?” Evan’s voice from behind makes me jump.
“Yeah, great,” I say, drying my eyes.
“He’s not a bad guy.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, love.”
“He’s just a little messed-up, I reckon.” I turn towards him, standing on the stairs. “But he’ll do.”
I smile, grateful for my son’s optimism. I don’t know where I’d be without him.
“He had to go – a family lunch…”
“And you wanted…”
“Don’t be stupid,” I shake my head, pushing away the thought. “Why should he have?”
“Because you slept together?”
“There are some things I shouldn’t speak to my teenage son about. It makes me feel like a terrible mum.”
“It’s not your fault, I’m just too switched-on for you.”
I look at him, one eyebrow raised.
“He likes you, Mum. I already told you.”
“That’s probably true, but I obviously like him a lot more, or he’d have invited me to come with him.”
Am I seriously asking my son for relationship advice?
“I don’t know, meeting the parents and all…”
“But I’ve already met them.”
“But not since he realised he likes you.”
“Oh, that’s enough,” I say, heading upstairs and passing him as I go. I decide to lock myself in my room all day; that way, I can sit and remember every single second of last night – I’m sure there won’t be any more like it, and it’s not something I want to forget anytime soon.