“Pass the spuds,” Ciarán says, looking across the table at Dillon. But my boyfriend doesn’t hear him because he’s too busy trying to jam his hands between my thighs under the table. This is only my third time at Sunday dinner, and I’m sweating buckets, thinking everyone can see the tug of war going on between us.
I don’t know what’s gotten into Dillon today.
Maybe he’s friskier because he took my anal virginity last night, but he hasn’t stopped groping me all day. However, even I have some hard and fast limits. I definitely draw the line at being fingered under the table in front of his entire family, so I’ve spent the last ten minutes swatting his hand away and warning him to behave.
“Earth to lover boy,” Shane bellows, nudging Dillon from his other side. “Get your paws off your woman and pass your brother the spuds.”
My cheeks inflame, and it feels like I might pass out from a combination of embarrassment and overheating.
“Sorry.” Dillon smirks, squeezing my thigh one final time before releasing me, passing the potatoes to Ciarán. “I get hugely distracted whenever my girl is around.”
“We’ve noticed.” Shane smirks, and I can see where Dillon got his smirk from. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen. I am going to enjoy giving you all the crap you gave me when I fell for Fiona.”
“Stop teasing your brother,” Cath, Dillon’s mom, says. “I think it’s wonderful to finally see Dillon happy and in love.” She beams at us, oblivious to the fact her son has just turned to stone beside me.
Shane subtly nods his head in his mother’s direction, and her smile fades when Dillon abruptly stands, scraping his chair back. “I need a smoke.” Bending down, he pecks my lips. “Finish your dinner. I’ll be back.” Without another glance in my direction, he stalks to the back door and leaves.
53
Dillon doesn’t come back, and I don’t know if I should go out and look for him or if it would be considered rude to get up from the dinner table when we’re not finished. Everyone continues talking and eating as if nothing’s wrong, and I wonder if Dillon storming off and everyone pretending it’s fine is normal.
“Will you help me serve up dessert, Vivien?” Cath asks, breaking me out of my troubled inner monologue.
“Of course.” I get up and follow her into the kitchen. The others remain seated at the table at the other end of the room, talking and laughing.
Cath stands in front of the window, sighing. I stand alongside her, seeing no sign of Dillon outside. Her smile is sad when she turns to me, patting me gently on the back before she walks to the refrigerator.
I whip the cream while Cath removes the apple and rhubarb crumble from the oven. “I’m sorry if I offended you,” she says as we work amicably side by side, spooning servings of crumble and cream into bowls.
“You didn’t offend me, and I don’t think you really offended Dillon either. He struggles to talk about his feelings. I’m sure you know that better than me.”
Dillon is gradually opening up to me, but anytime the conversation veers into heavy subject matter, he tends to clam up. He still hasn’t told me what happened when he was seventeen, but he has alluded to it a few times. I’m torn between wanting to push him—because I want to know everything there is to know about him—and letting it drop. Our relationship has a termination date, and encouraging him to fully open himself up to me emotionally will only make that inevitable ending all the harder. Right now, we’re having tons of fun, and we talk about all manner of things when we’re not out in a pub or fucking like bunnies. I’ve decided not to push it. To just go with the flow and accept our relationship for what it is.
Cath clasps my hand, and her eyes are shining with tears when she looks at me. “You’re breaking through those walls he has around his heart, and I love that. I see the way he looks at you. The way you look at him. But it isn’t my place to put a label on your relationship, and I shouldn’t have said what I said. I just want him to be happy.” She bats tears away.
“I want that for him too. He’s an amazing guy, and he deserves every happiness.”
“I’m so glad you came into his life, Vivien. Sometimes, the right people have a way of showing up when we least expect them.” She places her hand on my arm. “Just don’t give up on him. I know he struggles to accept love and it’s hard for him to reciprocate, but it seems to come so naturally when he’s with you.”
I don’t know that Dillon’s in love with me because that’s another thorny topic I refuse to discuss—even with myself—but we are damn good together, and the connection we share is more than the initial intense attraction we both felt.
I am perplexed why he finds it so hard to receive love and be worthy of it.
Love practically seeps from the walls of this house, and I doubt you could find a more loving, supportive family anywhere in the world. “I’m trying to understand it but coming up empty,” I admit. “You have the most loving family. You only have to look to see it. It’s a joy to behold. And I know you and Eugene are amazing parents. I don’t need your children to tell me that, so why does Dillon feel like this?”
“Dillon has been fighting different demons his entire life,” she explains, scooping crumble into the last bowl. I add a dollop of cream as she continues. “We have tried to support him to the best of our abilities, to let him know how loved and cherished he is, that he’s no different—”
“Ma!” Dillon snaps, appearing in the doorway. “Stop.” Some silent communication passes between them, and the shroud of sadness etched on Cath’s face hurts my heart. I don’t know what has gone on in the past, but whatever it is still pains Dillon’s mother.
“Are we eating dessert or what?” he asks, striding toward us and snatching two bowls up, like nothing is wrong.
Cath collects herself, pressing a kiss to her son’s cheek. “Of course. Let’s go.”
“Come with me,” Dillon demands, an hour later, looming over me and extending his arm.
“You need to chill out, Dil,” Ash says, blowing smoky puffs into the air.
“Gimme that.” I snatch the joint from between Ash’s fingers, taking one last drag before I clasp Dillon’s hand. If I wasn’t mildly stoned, I might be concerned about the look of thunder on my boyfriend’s face.
“You need to butt out.” Dillon tells his sister, hauling me to my feet. His hand wraps around mine as he steers us away from the orchard, toward the front of the farm.
“Where are we going?” I ask, jogging to keep up with his long-legged strides.
“To deliver your punishment,” he says, stopping abruptly and slamming his lips down hard on mine. He swats my ass. “You’ve been a naughty girl, Hollywood.”
He continues walking toward a structure in the near distance.
“I didn’t mean to be nosy,” I protest, understanding exactly why he feels the need to punish me.
“Doesn’t change the fact you were.”
“Your mom worries about you, and I care about you. Neither of us were speaking out of turn behind your back.”
“If you want to know something about me, Viv, you ask me.” He swivels his head, piercing me with a pointed look. “Me. Not my ma. Not Ash or Ro or Jamie. Me.”
“You don’t tell me anything,” I grumble, almost tripping as we approach what looks like a barn.
“Ask me anything, and I’ll tell you,” he challenges, unlocking the steel doors to the barn. He opens them fully before stepping aside to let me enter.