*Eilish*

“Tell me again how this happened?”

My eyes flickered to my cousin’s, then back to my image in the mirror. I leaned forward to apply my mascara.

“As I’ve told you, William said he’d been wanting to ask me out for a while. We went to lunch on Wednesday and, once you agreed to babysit, I told him I could go out tonight.”

“Moore . . .” Sean said, as though to confirm. Again. “The American?”

“Yes.”

“Not, say, Daly or Malloy?”

I glared at Sean. “No.”

“Hrumph.”

I switched to the other eye. “We’re just friends.”

“I don’t understand how this happened,” he said mostly to himself. “Moore is a saint.”

My mouth curved into a smirk before I could stop it, thinking back to William’s denial of sainthood status.

After lunch, when we’d returned to work, I’d called Sean and asked if he could watch Patrick Friday night. He readily agreed. I also asked Sean if he would be available during the day Saturday so Bryan could spend time with Patrick.

I’d planned to use the time on Saturday to run some errands, catch up on bills and such while the boys spent time together out and about. Patrick needed time with Bryan, they needed to form a foundation for their relationship, but that didn’t mean I needed to be present. In fact, I thought it might be better if I wasn’t around when Bryan and Patrick visited. That way Patrick wouldn’t get used to the three of us being together.

Bryan had been cordial all week. Polite. Solicitous. And he hadn’t brought up our locker room encounter. I didn’t know if I was grateful or disappointed.

Presently, in my bathroom, Sean motioned to me accusingly with an outstretched hand, then twisted his cufflinks in an anxious gesture. “You look amazing.” Even when he babysat the man wore cufflinks.

Glancing down at myself, I quickly inspected the jade green dress I hadn’t worn in six years. “Thank you?”

“That’s not the kind of dress a woman wears to go out with a friend.”

“Yes, it is,” I said on a sigh, closing and dropping the mascara in my makeup bag.

“It’s not. It’s the kind of dress a woman wears when she wants to be noticed.”

“Or maybe it’s the kind of dress a woman wears when she hasn’t gone out to a proper dinner in years and she wants to feel pretty and special instead of like a mother. You know, covered in Popsicle goo and four-year-old boy germs.”

“Fine. Or that,” he conceded quietly, tilting his head to the side in a considering manner. “Have you really not gone out to dinner in years?”

Deciding that dinner with Trevor at the mall didn’t count, I smiled warmly at Sean’s reflection. “Yes. But, honestly, I haven’t minded. I know how lucky I am to have Patrick, and I wouldn’t trade my daily Popsicle goo and little-boy germs for fancy dinners in a million years.”

“I know, E. I just—” Sean was interrupted by my cell ringing on the countertop. He made a face at it, then at me, and continued, “I know you wouldn’t trade Patrick for fancy dinners. But have you considered maybe you could have both?”

I picked up my cell, not looking at the screen, and frowned at my cousin. “Exactly. Which is why I’m going out tonight, with my friend.”

“Don’t you want something different? Something better?”

“No. I don’t. I don’t need better, Sean. I have a great job, I have you, and I have Patrick. I don’t need anyone else.”

“Yes. I know. You don’t need anyone. You’ve only said those words three point four million times. Is that what you want for Patrick, hmm? To go through life alone? I’m not saying you need someone to be happy, I’m merely suggesting you consider the possibility that—”

“Hello?” I answered my phone, giving Sean a look that I hope communicated my desire to never have this discussion ever again.

“Eilish, it’s your mother.”

I grimaced, leaning my hip against the bathroom counter. “Hello, Mother.”

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, Sean also grimaced. We swapped a commiserating glance.

“I’ve been trying to reach you.”

“Yes. I’ve been busy.”

“This is important. A rumor has reached me, and I don’t know what to think.” I heard something rattle in the background, like she’d just dropped a glass onto a hard surface.

“Uh, I don’t—”

“Is Bryan Leech that child’s father?”

I stiffened, blinking rapidly as dread and apprehension and confusion filled my chest and made responding in a timely fashion impossible. I glanced at Sean for help, and he frowned at my expression, pulling the phone from my ear and placing the call on speaker.

“. . . still there? Hello? Eilish?” came her shrill voice.

“Yes. Yes, I’m still here.”

“Well? Is Bryan Leech the father?”

“I don’t—I mean, where did you—?”

“That’s unimportant. Don’t you see? This changes everything.”

“How does this change everything?” I asked, hoping to stall, needing a moment to think.

Sean made a face of stunned confusion and shook his head. I could see he was truly perplexed.

“He is a man of means, Eilish. And do you realize who Bryan’s father is? He needs to take responsibility for that child. And you. He needs to take care of you.”