Page 76 of Soft Tissue Damage
I look at the cake on my fork. Cullan was the man who went down on me, not Leon. “Leon used to call me babe, and I hated it. The endearment is so careless, like a shrug. You were sneaky and maybe I should be angry about that, but when I remember how it felt when you came into my room and touched me, I should have known it wasn’t Leon. He made me feel like it was my responsibility to have an orgasm to make him feel like a man. He never took care to relax me like you did. To make me feel like all I needed to do was enjoy myself rather than perform.”
Cullan reaches out and touches my cheek. “That’s all I wanted. To make you happy. No matter what I’ve done, I care about you so much, even if I can be crazy about showing it.”
He takes Rosie upstairs and puts her to bed while I tidy the kitchen and stack the dishwasher. As Cullan comes back downstairs twenty minutes later, my phone chimes with a text message. I wince when I see who it is.
Leon: I’m outside. Can I speak to you?
At the same time, Cullan’s phone chimes with a doorbell notification. He frowns at the screen. “Why is my son here unannounced?”
I take a deep breath. “He says he wants to talk to me. He can come in. I don’t mind.”
Cullan looks like he minds. “Are you sure?”
I feel safe with Cullan here. I’ve noticed that Cullan has no problem pointing out firmly but fairly to Leon when he’s being rude. He’s a good father. “I’m sure. We haven’t talked since we broke up. All I got from him was a thumbs-up in a text.”
“A thumbs-up,” Cullan mutters darkly, and goes to open the door.
He brings Leon into the kitchen, making polite conversation, though his expression is somber, and he seems on edge. “How’s your mom? Has she recovered from her food poisoning?”
Leon is dressed in an oversized white T-shirt, jeans, and expensive-looking sneakers. His movements are restless and bouncy, and I can barely remember why I thought he was so cute and charming. “Yeah, she’s fine now. For a day or two her guts were like Old Faithful. Every hour on the hour.”
“I’m glad she’s feeling better.” Cullan glances at me, and I feel my stomach flip-flop. Does he know what I did with the laxatives? But how could he possibly know? Is he angry about it?
I busy myself with finding a container big enough to hold the cake leftovers, and I can feel Leon’s eyes on me. No one speaks.
“Is there anything you need, Leon?” Cullan prompts his son.
“Yeah. I want to speak to Elena.”
“So speak.”
“Well, can you go? I want to speak to her alone.”
“Do you want me to go, Elena?” Cullan asks.
If there was something important he wanted to say to me, Leon could have done it days ago instead of walking in the sunshine with his arm draped around that other woman.
I glance up at Cullan and shake my head. He leans against the counter and folds his arms.
Leon makes a frustrated noise and turns to me. “I saw you on Flockton Street last night. In Pixie Bar. You looked good. Who were you dancing with?”
It takes all my self-control not to glance at Cullan again. Does Leon already know? Has he come here to make a scene? But the expression in his eyes is curious, and I realize he doesn’t know that I was dancing with his father. Years of obeying my aunts without question almost have me opening my mouth to answer Leon, but I don’t have to. I don’t owe Leon anything.
“That’s my business,” I say quietly but firmly.
Leon smiles, but it’s brittle, and anger is sparking in his eyes. “I’m surprised. You move on quickly, Elena. Why don’t you tell me who he was?”
“That’s enough, Leon,” Cullan says.
Leon casts his father a surly look, and then blurts out, “I don’t like the way things ended between us. I want another chance.”
He’s the reason things ended the way they did, and then he sent me that stupid emoji. I don’t even need to think about my reply. “No, thank you.”
“But I’m sorry.”
“Thank you for being sorry.”
“So?”
