But if Teagan thinks I have someone else in my bed, maybe she’ll stop this ridiculous farce.
‘Liar.’ Her irises flash with heat, but all I see is the cold heart of a woman who can leave our child without so much as a backwards glance. ‘You and I are meant to be, Cillian. That’s why you’ve never met anyone else. Oh, I’m sure you offer some “out-of-office services” to some of your desperate needy clients, but there’s never been anyone serious since me. I still have a few little birdies in your office that tell me everything I need to know. There’s never been anyone else. No one meaningful anyway. You still have feelings for me.’
There’s many a newfound divorcee searching for someone to celebrate their freedom with, but that’s not me. And that Teagan would even think I’d take a client to bed highlights exactly how different our moral compasses are.
‘I’m seeing someone.’ The lie is out of my mouth before I’ve had the chance to think it through. It’s the quickest way to shut down her bullshit and get her out of my life. ‘It’s early days, but it’s serious.’
Teagan’s mouth drops open. ‘I … I …’ She palms her sternum like she’s in pain. ‘Who is she? What’s her name? Has Phoebe met her yet? Do you love her?’ A thousand insecurities flit across her face.
I don’t usually condone lying but in this instance, if it helps to rip the plaster off, it’s worth it. If Teagan thinks she has some competition with Phoebe, she might make more of an effort to be a parent to her. Or at least stop dropping in and out of her life on a whim. It’s not healthy for any of us.
‘Like I said, it’s early days. Phoebe hasn’t met her yet. But she will when the time is right.’
Teagan takes a step back. A faraway look clouds her expression. ‘I want to meet her. In fact. I won’t feel right leaving Phoebe again until I do. I want to know what sort of woman is going to be hanging around my daughter.’
Oh fuck.
And that’s the only reason I fill in the sign-up form for a dating agency, two hours and three whiskeys later.
ChapterThree
AVA
Tuesday 28th November
I’m hunched over my desk long after Bonnie, Cleo, and Violet head home. I’ve scanned the entire database for a potential date to take to next week’s anniversary party, and Nate’s wedding, with no success.
My thoughts return to the weird registration form that came in earlier. Cillian Callaghan’s desperation is on par with my own.
Initially, I’d wondered if it was some sort of prank, but he paid the hefty sign-up fee in full, so clearly, he’s looking for something.
Or someone.
His brutal honesty on his form combined with those sarcastic one-liners has me pondering exactly what type of man he is, other than a grumpy, cynical son-of-a-bitch, that is.
He's everything this agency shouldn't attract.
Typing his name into Google, I scour Cillian Callaghan divorce lawyer. Article after article floods my screen. It seems Mr Callaghan wasn't exaggerating when he claimed to make his living by tearing marriages apart. His success statistics are scarily high, and from the A-List names mentioned in these articles it looks like he represents some seriously high-profile clients.
His gold and black website is embossed with fancy metallic calligraphy but there’s no photo of the man himself, which only serves to intensify my interest in him. Looks like his company covers every aspect of law, from criminal defence to family interests. Why did he choose to specialise in divorce?
I pull up his sign-up form and dial his number before I can overthink it. It’s later than strictly professional, but the man is a self-professed workaholic. He’s probably still dreaming up ways to destroy people’s relationships.
‘Hello?’ A deep velvety voice snaps with a tinge of irritation.
‘Cillian? My name is Ava Jackson, I’m the owner of HeartSync, the dating agency you signed up to.’ My heart accelerates in my chest. This was a stupid idea. What was I even thinking?
‘Oh. That.’ He exhales heavily.
‘Is this a good time to talk?’ I rest an elbow on my desk and try to conjure an image of the man on the other end of the phone.
Is he tall, dark, and handsome?
Short, round, and bald?
His voice suggests the former, but his sign-up form implies the latter.
‘It’s as good as any, I suppose.’ His reluctant drawl suggests he’d rather stick needles in his eyes. ‘I’m just having a whiskey.’
