Page 63 of The Secret We Keep
Her eyes widen. “How did that go?”
When I asked Bill for Morgan’s typewriter, he closed the damn door in my face. I’m not sure how she won him round, but considering how much she loves the old thing, it was Morgan’s mum, Julie, who eventually handed it over.
“Probably about as good as your day went.”
She nods, lost in thought.
“He was adamant I leave before you got back, but I told him I wasn’t leaving until I could give you those.” I point to the flowers. “Of course, I didn’t know you would be late.”
Morgan lifts a hand to her forehead. “I missed my bus.” I watch her cheeks flame, but I know how much of a big deal getting a job is to her.
“It happens to the best of us.”
She makes a sweet little tutting noise. “And when was the last time Paddy O’Keefe caught a bus?”
“Two years ago. I was supposed to be heading back to my flat but missed the last bus. Ended up hitching a lift from some random woman who took pity on me.”
“Okay that’s much worse,” she chuckles. “I hope you thanked her.”
My hand lifts to the back of my neck, wondering why I brought this up. “Actually, I dated her.”
Well, that snippet of truth will make it better.
“Oh.” Morgan’s face drops. “I guess that’s one way to say thank you.”
Slightly embarrassed, I look down at my feet. “Yeah, you could say that.” I shake my head then look up at Morgan. “We’re no longer together, just to be clear.”
“Oh, no… you don’t have to tell me. Don’t worry, Paddy,” Morgan flusters, waving a dismissive hand like she’s not bothered. At least, that’s what I hope she’s doing.
Because Iwantto tell her.
I want to talk to her.
I want to get to know her and let her in on the parts of me no one else knows.
She doesn’t give me a chance to explain anything more. “Well, good night, Paddy. Thank you for my flowers.”
I don’t like the feeling of dread that’s filling me. “You’re welcome, Morgan.”
It doesn’t take long before I’m back in my empty flat in the city. The first thing I notice when I walk through the door is that this place no longer feels like my sanctuary.
Waking up in Stoney Grange in a house full of people and a puppy with no personal boundaries has certainly grown on me. Christ. There’s a sentence I never imagined myself saying. Considering I spent years—and I mean literalyearsavoiding it like it was the worst place on Earth, I actually think I’m missing it. Even after only a week, I already know that when I drive back there tomorrow, I won’t be filled with unease.
Because it’s home.
Taking that thought with me, I do some laundry and head out to the supermarket for something to eat. I contemplated ordering a curry, purely for ease, but I’ve been fed like a king since staying with my folks. I need something less stressful on my heart and better for my gut.
One thing I’ve noticed from taking a step back from work is the sheer amount of hours I put in. I’m not complaining. My job means everything to me. But it’s clear that it’s beginning to take its toll. Working thirteen-hour shifts, often through the night, then being called in the next day, was never going to be sustainable. What I need is to consider something new.
Maybe.
I don’t know.
When I enter the store and grab a basket, I immediately regret not ordering a curry. Standing with her back to me, I spot Hannah reaching for something off a nearby shelf. Before I can even think about avoiding her, she turns to face me.
Unlike when a certain someone looks at me, her eyes don’t light up. And unlike when I look at a certain someone, that weird sensation that makes my stomach flip, doesn’t come.
Whatdoescome is the barrage of shame and disappointment that I usually feel whenever I’m reminded of what happened between us. I let her down. I should have been a better boyfriend. I should have been there for her when she needed me.
