He nods and I wonder if he really knows what that everything is. Having had Farrah tell him, I don’t know if he really thought about the fact that at the end of this, I won’t be able to give him the family he’s always wanted. At least not conventionally. I don’t know if he is actually okay with that, or waiting until this is all said and done to tell me he’s not. I don’t know if I can handle hearing that right now while I fight to come to terms with it myself.
Shaking me out of my thoughts, the touch of his lips to mine brings me back to the moment. The kiss is slow and deep, eliciting a stirring sensation inside of me. His lips moving to my neck has me moaning out loud and gripping his shirt.
“If you won’t let me take care of you, then let me take care of you,” he says.
Turning me so that he can place me underneath him, his lips trail down my body. I ease back, letting him guide me to something that is distracting enough to make me stop thinking.
Wanting things to be as normal as possible, I agree to go to Rowan’s St. Patrick’s Day party with Farrah. With the surgery looming and my dad still coming to terms with it all, his house feels like a hospitallobby, and I just can’t keep holding my breath waiting for my name to be called. I need to have fun, and I need to forget.
So here I am, wearing a Kiss Me I’m Irish shirt and some baggy pants. I know better than to dress up for Rowan’s party, just to end up drunk in a corner trying to strip out of my tight outfit.
Farrah, on the other hand, looks like she is a leprechaun. Dressed in all green, with her eyeshadow matching, she took the holiday theme to a new level.
I don’t know how she plans to maneuver in her clothes once wasted. Which is bound to happen when you try to keep up with an O’Connor. Two of them now, if Callahan is going to be here.
“Wait, who knows about me?” I stop her short of the elevator, grabbing her bag of alcohol out of her hands.
“I don’t know. I told the people you told me to tell, but I don’t know who they told.”
I gave permission for Farrah to tell our group of friends, and for reasons I’m not ready to explore, Callahan as well. But they could have told anyone.
“Crap.”
I don’t know why I didn’t think of this sooner, but the idea of walking into a pity party where everyone tells me how sorry they are is going to make me fight someone.
“Don’t worry. I told everyone you don’t want to talk about it.”
“Like that’s stopped anybody so far.”
“Here.” She pulls a bottle of gin out of the bag and unscrews the top.
“You know I become an entirely different person on gin,” I say.
“Exactly. Get drunk and wild, and no one will even think to talk to you about anything serious.”
I like her logic, so I take a hearty gulp of the drink and shake out the strong taste.
“Okay, let’s go,” I say.
She takes her own big sip while we wait for the elevator to come. By the time we walk into the party, we are technically three shots in and completely ready to go crazy.
Rowan actually has food at her parties, so there is a buffet of Boston classics and new favorites she’s found since moving across the country. I indulge in enough carbs to try and offset the liquor currently pooling in my stomach. It does little, because by the time I’m done eating, stripping actually does sound like the best idea.
To forego that, I find a solo spot and focus on my drink, trying to remind myself to be a good girl.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
I look up to see Callahan, in nothing but pants and suspenders, grinning at me with a tiny hat on his head. His bare chest and sculpted arms have me ready to jump him in the middle of this very packed apartment.
So much for not being reckless.
“Damn,” I say despite my efforts to not look impressed.
“Right back at ya.”
Having made the mistake of standing against the wall, he brings his arms up on either side of my head, intoxicating me with not only scent but his closeness.
“You going to dance with me?” he asks, bringing his face closer to mine.
