Page 39 of Mr. Swoony

Conor sits one step down from me and leans his back against the iron railing.

It’s a sunny day, hot since it’s August, but the light breeze makes it comfortable.

“I’m really sorry, Eloise,” he says. “I was drunk and listened to the advice of three rookies who were only thinking about me and not how that stunt I pulled would affect you. Actually, I can’t blame them. It’s all on me. I’m the asshole in this situation.”

I wrap my arms around my legs and stare at the street. The neighborhood is so similar to the one I grew up in. One I thought, once upon a time, I’d raise my kids in. But had I married Tristan, I would’ve been in a more affluent area with large yards and sprawling streets void of parked cars most days.

“Is that it? You were drunk?”

Conor stretches one leg out along the stair. Nothing in his body language says he’s anxious or nervous, whereas I feel like a kinked chain necklace. “I had a lot to drink, but I think it only aided in me acting on the thoughts that had been running though my head most of the week.”

“I was about to call it off right before you came in.” My confession is one I wasn’t sure I wanted to share with him. I don’t want to give him false hope.

He tips his head toward mine, and his jaw hangs open. “Really?”

“Yeah. I feel like it took forever for me to make that decision, but there was a lot of pressure.”

He holds up his hand. “You don’t have to justify your reasoning. It takes a lot of courage to leave.”

“Yeah, I’m not sure I thought I ever would do it, but this weight I’ve been carrying around is finally off me.”

He touches my knee. “I’m glad.”

“But, Conor, I can’t be with you right now. I need to figure myself out. You might be surprised to find out what a mess I am. I allowed Tristan to feel as if I was helpless and needed him. After my dad died, he just kind of took over. So, although I did feel our chemistry that night, and I thought about you all week, I can’t start something right now. I’m really sorry.”

He scootches up onto the step beside me, his strong thigh and shoulder touching mine. God, my body wants me to say screw it and tell him to make me forget all the shit in my head.

“I get it, and you don’t have to apologize. Let me help you though. I feel as if I got you into this mess.”

I shake my head. “I just need to figure a lot of stuff out. I’ve been living off my trust from my dad for a while because Tristan didn’t want me to work. Well, his mom had these plans for me sitting on charity boards or something. And I moved out of my apartment to move in with Tristan. My mom and Sam are renovating and moving into a one-bedroom for a while.” I lower my head into my hands. “And here I go again, complaining about my life. I promise I’m not one of those Debbie Downer types. You just keep finding me at the wrong times.”

He wraps his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. And I allow him—for the selfish reason that it feels nice. “I can’t help you with all those problems, but I can help you with one. Move in with me.”

He’s got to be kidding, but when I draw back, I see that he’s stone-cold serious.

Seventeen

Eloise

“Are you out of your mind?” I ask, because on what planet is this a good idea?

“Probably. But I have a second bedroom. It’s yours. For a night, a week, or however long you need it.”

I straighten my back, and his arm falls off my shoulders. “It’s a horrible idea.”

“Yeah, it is.”

I like the fact he isn’t trying to rationalize it.

“You’re taking that fixer thing to a new level.” I lean my head on the iron spindle and think about his offer.

Conor chuckles. “Well, I guess you’re learning to fight your people-pleasing habits, since you’re telling me no.”

“I didn’t say no,” I joke, although I’m about to.

“Listen, I’m behind on my offseason training, so I have to kick it into high gear if I’m going to be the stellar player I was last year.”

“There’s that ego again.” I roll my eyes.

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