Tonight, I can't help but be hyper-aware of Cillian as he works studiously on his computer. He's interrupted a few times by some female fans that ask him for his autograph. As always, he's warm and gracious, but he makes quick work of sending them on their way, never even noticing the longing glances he gets from them. I'm sure over the years he's had his share of adoring women to choose from—a thought that makes me feel strangely displaced.
I start clearing off a table, trying to banish Cillian from my thoughts, when my phone buzzes in the pocket of my apron, indicating a text. No one except for Cady or Teagan really texts me, and they never bother me at work. I decide to check it because I want to make sure it's not someone from home with an urgent matter.
Pulling my iPhone out, I glance at the text and my heart literally stops in my chest.
It's from Cormac.
I miss you. I've wanted to contact you for a few weeks but didn't know how. I would really like to see you and I know you're in Dublin. To apologize. To see if we still have something together. I can explain more, but seeing you in person would help. Please call me. I do love you.
I read the text one more time and my heart starts thumping madly in my chest. The man I thought I loved... the man who destroyed my reputation is contacting me, and I'm not sure how to feel about it. And how in the hell does he know I'm in Dublin?
I realize my hands are shaking as I turn the phone off and slide it back into my apron. Glancing at my watch, I see I'm overdue for a break. With a short word to Keefe that I'll be outside for a few minutes, I feel like I practically stumble out the front door. Walking along the edge of the brick building, I find a quiet spot, lean back against it, and close my eyes.
Cormac's image comes to mind. His black hair and deep blue eyes. The way he would smile at me first thing in the morning on those nights we stayed together. Or the knowing look that would pass between us when he would first step onto the plane.
We had to be careful because Delta frowned upon relationships between pilots and flight attendants. We knew it was wrong but we were powerless to stop the attraction. And there was that part of me that liked the danger... the risk... the naughtiness of breaking the rules for the first time in my life.
I had no regrets. I loved Cormac and I believed he loved me. We even talked about me quitting Delta so that we could be open in our relationship, but he wanted me to get at least a full year under my belt before we did that. He wanted to make sure I had good experience on my resume should I want to work for another airline.
I simply wasn't prepared for my world to come crashing down on me in the blink of an eye. Within a matter of days, I found out the man I loved had been lying to me and I had been forced out of a job under the most shameful of circumstances. The black mark against me would follow me forever.
Just thinking about it made the tears well up under my closed lids and I rubbed the back of my hand over my eyes to dispel them.
"Renner... are you okay?"
My eyes fly open and Cillian is standing before me, his backpack slung over his shoulder. Worry and concern are etched on his face. His hand reaches up and catches a stray tear that slides down my cheek.
Embarrassed he caught me in this vulnerable state, I turn my face away and mutter, "Sure. Yes. I'm fine."
"But you’re crying," he points out.
"I'm hormonal... PMS and all that."
Taking my face with both of his hands, he forces my eyes to his. "Try again."
My gaze is unflinching when I tell him, "It's nothing I want to talk about. You remember what it's like not to want to talk about something, right?"
He drops his hands and takes a step back, shoving his hands in his pocket. "Fair enough. I just came out to tell you that something's come up and I have to go, so I won't be able to walk you home tonight."
"That's okay. I don't need you to walk me home anyway." That statement is absolutely true but why did I have a sinking feeling in my stomach when Cillian told me I was on my own for the evening walk home? Why would that even bother me when he holds nothing more than a passing interest...in his music, that is?
Okay, I'm lying. I've been thinking about him more and more the last few days, and apparently I had been looking forward to him walking me home tonight, otherwise I wouldn't be feeling disappointed that he's not. And that is just not something that is acceptable to me. I do not want to have feelings for him, or anyone for that matter. I'm still trying to sort out the bruised and battered feelings I have left from my fiasco with Cormac.
Bolstering myself and needing to say the words out loud so I accept them as true in my own mind, I harden my voice and say, "Cillian... let's just cut this farce off. I don't want you walking me home anymore and I don't want you trying to get to know me. I have absolutely no interest in you."
For good measure, I put on my most ferocious glare.
And what does the bastard do? He smirks at me.
Dropping his backpack to the ground, he steps forward. He then takes his hands and slaps them against the wall on either side of my head, caging me in. My body immediately goes still, keenly aware of how close he is. "Now that's just a fib, Renner. You have plenty of interest in me. Don't think I haven't noticed the way you've been staring at me the last few nights. I can see the interest in your eyes. I can read it in your body. In fact, I bet if I leaned in to kiss you right now, your eyes would glaze over just a bit and your lips would part open, ready for me to taste you. Shall I prove it?"