“You were an addict, Bryan. And it wasn’t like I discouraged your attention. When you flirted with me I flirted right back, and I was stone-cold sober. You were the one under the influence.”

I contradicted her automatically. “I was the villain of the piece, and we both know it.”

She shook her head and met my gaze pointedly. “There were no villains. Just two misguided people colliding and making something beautiful. I might’ve been scared at the time, but I wouldn’t trade Patrick for the world. He’s my everything.”

My heart warmed and then burned, the odd nagging of unease and doubt dissipating at her mention of our son.

I loved how much she loved him, and in that moment I realized how much I wanted that love. Her love. I wanted the three of us to be a family so badly my bones ached. Unfortunately, I suspected that if I breathed a word of this to Eilish she’d run a mile. I was some crazy bunny boiler, infatuated with her.

She’d had nearly five years with Patrick, and I thought about my own mother. She’d had twenty-nine with me, but I never saw that type of love and adoration from her eyes. She needed me, loved me, but adored me as someone incredibly special she’d made? That I wasn’t so sure of. Eilish. She was the one who was teaching me about love, and I knew I wanted that in my life. Despite how we began, I wanted her and Patrick as mine.

She turned in my arms to stare at the water again. We’d been heading out to sea but I steered the boat back around in an arc and headed toward Ireland’s Eye. Eilish noticed the direction and cocked her head to me with an excited smile.

“We’re going to the island?”

I smiled right back. “Yes, love, we’re going to the island.”

Chapter Twenty

THEBryanLeech: When you’re having the most perfect day because ECassChoosesPikachu is the most perfect woman <3

ECassChoosesPikachu to THEBryanLeech: Sweet talker… go on. ;-)

SeanCassinova to THEBryanLeech: I’ve created a monster. Don’t tell me you’ve abandoned your housecoat and prune addiction?

*Bryan*

Once I secured the boat, I grabbed my backpack and helped Eilish off. Her earlier wariness about going out on the water was gone, and she seemed relaxed.

“I thought we could walk up to the Martello Tower and have a picnic,” I said as I took her arm and led her away from the shore.

She eyed my backpack. “You brought food?”

“What kind of date would I be if I let you starve?”

“I just never pictured you as the domestic type,” she replied, eyes on the ground as we navigated the rocky terrain.

“Well, get picturing it because I cook all the time. Will has put on half a stone in muscle from all the gourmet protein I’ve been feeding him.”

She giggled. “He is very big.”

“Not sure I like you commenting on my flatmate’s size,” I teased.

Eilish rolled her eyes. “You know perfectly well we’re just friends.”

I shot her a grin, because I did know that. Don’t get me wrong, I’d been ready to string Will up by the balls after I heard he was taking her out on a date. I knew he liked Eilish, so I decided to be upfront and tell him I was Patrick’s dad. After that he set aside his romantic notions and decided to help me instead. He was a real class act, a true friend.

I was certain Eilish’s change of mind about me was half Will’s doing. I hadn’t been surprised by the news when Eilish informed me in her kitchen last week that she and Will weren’t dating, but I had been surprised she’d told me. I’d expected her to hide behind the ruse for a little longer.

“I haven’t been out here since I was Patrick’s age,” she said after we walked a few minutes in quiet. She sounded wistful.

I glanced down at her. “No?”

“My mother was never one for the outdoors. She put an end to activities like this pretty early on. Cocktail parties and soirees were more her thing.”

“Yeah, mine too. Though she preferred house parties and night clubs to soirees.” I let out a breath. “Speaking of mothers, did Cara give you any grief about us ditching her hoity-toity brunch?”

Eilish adopted an exasperated look. “Yes. But I’ve been sending her calls to voicemail. I don’t have the energy to deal with her.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “Are you close with your mother?”

“I am. Dad left when I was three . . .” I thought about that for a moment, remembering my mother’s version of the events. Taking a deep breath, I continued, “It’s been just the two of us as far back as I can remember. Kind of hard not to be close in a situation like that.”

She almost stumbled over a rock but I caught her by the elbow just in time. “I’m the opposite,” she said once she found her footing again. “If I’m the Sahara Desert, my mam’s the Arctic. We never really saw eye to eye. Still don’t.”

“I’m not saying we agree on everything,” I said. “In fact, I disagree with Mam on a lot of things. She drinks too much for one, and obviously you know how that can be a problem for me. I’ve been trying to help her get sober, but it’s been a losing battle up until recently.”

“Oh? What changed?” she asked, curious.

“I told her about Patrick.”

Her brows shot up. “You did?”

I nodded. “I didn’t expect it to have such an effect on her, but hearing she has a grandchild really put a bit of life back into her eyes. I hadn’t seen her look so hopeful in a long time.”