We stood for a time, I had no idea how long, and then Sean said, “You’re going to have to tell the father.”
I stiffened. I heard the words. I knew—rationally speaking—he was right. But every fiber of my being rejected his assertion.
Like hell.
Since that horrible morning, I hadn’t seen or spoken to Bryan Leech in person, but I’d followed what he’d been doing—or rather, who he’d been doing. He had a new girlfriend. They’d been dating for two months. She was an actress. She had red hair.
Apparently, he had a thing for redheads.
Bryan had made no attempt to contact me. At this point I was fairly certain he didn’t know my name and had forgotten I existed. I knew with complete certainty he would have absolutely no interest in my child.
“Nothing has to be decided now.” Sean kissed my forehead, prying the pee stick from my fingers and placing it gingerly in the sink. “Come have a cup of tea. Lucy sent over a new peppermint blend from that shop you like in New York, Tea and Sympathy.”
Lucy was Sean’s girlfriend and one of my favorite people in the world. She lived in New York and Sean lived in Dublin, except when he was traveling with the team. Sean and Bryan were teammates, part of the Irish National Rugby team. They weren’t exactly friends, but they were friendly.
I hadn’t told Sean about Bryan, partially because Sean had a mean streak. He was infamous for his nasty grudges and lack of conscious when it came to people he perceived as enemies. I didn’t want Bryan to suffer.
That’s a lie.
Part of me wanted to cut his enchanted dick off and burn it.
But mostly, after the last three months of thinking about that night way too much, I blamed myself.
I’d been sober. I’d wanted him to seduce me and—drunk or not—he’d been an epic seducer. I’d been infatuated by the idea of a famous rugby player sweeping me off my feet. I may have regretted everything the morning after, but what had happened between us that night had been 100% consensual.
At least, from my perspective it had been. But apparently Bryan had been so drunk he didn’t even remember my name. Perhaps he hadn’t been capable of giving consent. Maybe I’d taken advantage of him. Perhaps I’d been the seducer. . .
Ugh. I was so tired of this loop of self-recrimination and doubt.
Collapsing onto the couch, I rested my elbows on my knees and covered my face with my hands.
“Eilish?” Sean prodded. “Will you tell me who he is?”
I shook my head. I wouldn’t. That morning had been terrible, so terrible, humiliating. Bryan’s apathy and rejection had carved a hollow space out of my heart, leaving a wide, gaping hole. I’d been na?ve, trusting before. Too honest. Too uninhibited. Too reckless.
But I would never make that mistake again. I needed a plan and it needed to be a good one.
I was determined, no matter what it took, Bryan Leech would never find out about my new superpowers.
End Sneak Peek
More of the Rugby Series coming soon!
Sneak Peek: Showmance
By L.H. Cosway, releasing May 16, 2016
Excerpt
We spent the morning with the chorus line, teaching them preliminary sequences for the big club scene. Jacob, Alicia, the choral director, and a number of assistants sat at a long table, watching our progress and taking notes.
It was after lunch that the tension in the building seemed to heighten, whispers cascading from ear to ear as news spread that Mr Atwood had finally arrived. Iggy’s studio took up the entire top floor of a large Victorian building in central London; it included one large practice room, several smaller ones, dressing rooms with showers, and a few offices. I wondered where they’d sequestered away Damon Atwood.
I summoned up an image from the movies of his that I’d seen. He’d been young, but I remembered he was tall, with dark hair and deep, soulful brown eyes. Though who knew what he was looking like these days.
I often found that child actors looked odd when they got older. Not because their appearances were particularly unusual, but more because you were so used to seeing their faces as children that it was strange when their features transformed into adulthood.
Case in point: Macaulay Culkin.
“I heard he lives in a tiny little cottage and works on the fishing boats that operate out of the island for no pay. Why anyone would want to work on a stinky fishing trawler when they’ve got millions sitting in the bank is beyond me,” said one of the dancers who sat just a few feet away from me as we took our break.
“But can you imagine him working,” said another. “I saw him arrive out front a half hour ago. Boy has grown up good.”