Page 8 of Enticing the Elf
I’m notsure what happened between me going to my meeting and lunch, but something upset Dáithí. He wasn’t his usual self while we were eating—didn’t even ask about the meeting with the hockey club—and six hours later, he still seems off. Niamh swears that he was fine when she left, that they’d worked out their differences. I’m not totally convinced. She might just be saying it because she wants me to forget she was rude to him.
I don’t think I’m a bad boss, or a bad person, but sometimes it’s hard to hold back the part of me that wants to drape Dáithí in silk, install him on a velvet chaise, and protect him from life while I brush his hair and feed him chocolate truffles. That part of me is very unhappy with Niamh right now.
“Did everything go okay with Niamh today?” I ask casually as I join him on the couch. We’re at my place tonight, because Dáithí says I have the better TV to watch whatever his latest reality show obsession is. I wasn’t about to argue—given how withdrawn he was at lunch, I was half expecting tonight to be one of the ones where he insists we be apart.
“Yeah, it was fine. You don’t need to be mad at her on my behalf.”
He doesn’t sound annoyed, but I can’t shake the feeling that something’s not right with him, so I say, “I know you can take care of yourself. I’m still mad at her, but I’m not going to interfere.”
That wins me a smile. “Aw. You’re learning.” He pats my thigh, but when he turns back to the TV, his hand slides away—and so does the smile.
Shit. How can I make this better? What even is this?
I hesitate for a few seconds longer, then throw caution to the wind. “Is everything okay? You seem… preoccupied.”
Dáithí goes still, then sighs. That can’t be good.
My fears are confirmed when he mutes his show and half turns toward me, tucking his leg up on the seat of the couch.
“I think…” He stops, and I stay quiet. I’m not completely sure what he wants to say, but every one of my instincts is screaming that I’m not going to like it. “Do people think they have the right to tell you their opinion of your personal life?”
I blink a few times, processing the question. It’s not what I expected him to say. I feel like I might be getting a reprieve but I’m not out of the woods yet. “Sometimes,” I admit, remembering the way Hagen cornered me the other day. “Usually they’re close friends, and I tell them where they can stick their opinions.”
He sighs again. “Yeah. That’s normally how I handle it too.” For what feels like eternity, he stares into space, his face pensive. This is really bothering him. Maybe it’s not about me, after all? I assumed that someone had lectured him about our “situationship”—damn Hagen for getting that word stuck in my head—but it could be something else.
“Is it something I could help with?” I ask impulsively, drawing his attention back to me.
His expression softens into one I’ll never get sick of being on the receiving end of—fond caring. Dáithí might be holding backfrom a commitment, but I don’t have any doubt that he cares about me.
Then fondness morphs into unwilling determination. “I think it’s time for us to end this.”
It’s funny, I always assumed that if this moment came, I’d feel awful. Like I couldn’t breathe or was going to throw up. I assumed I’d be overtaken with anxiety and fear, maybe even cry.
Instead, my emotions blank out completely, my mind clearing as adrenaline pumps through my system. I know what this is—I’ve felt this before. My body is ready for battle. I’d laugh, if I wasn’t facing the most important battle of my life.
“Why?” I ask, and even my voice sounds normal. Steady, and a little curious. Not a quaver in sight.
It’s Dáithí’s turn to blink in surprise. “I… What do you mean, why? I don’t need to have a reason!”
I shrug. “Of course you don’t, and if you really want to end things, that’s your prerogative. I just wondered if this isyourdecision or if someone else has bullied you into it with their opinions.”
His mouth drops open. “Nobodybulliedme! I don’t get bullied, thank you. I’m perfectly capable of handling bullies and everyone else when they try to shove their opinions down my throat.”
“That’s what I always believed,” I agree. “If you’re telling me this has nothing to do with what anyone else thinks, I’ll accept that. I’m confused, though, because this morning our arrangement”—there’s the slightest hitch on that word, but I power on, hoping he won’t notice—“suited us both fine. We like each other’s company, and I know I’m not being presumptuous when I say we’re like fire in bed.”
The corner of Dáithí’s mouth turns up as his gaze heats, hopefully with the memory of what we did last night. “Yeah,” he breathes.
I spread my hands in a “there you go” gesture. “So it seems odd to me that everything was good, but now it isn’t, and somewhere in between then and now people have been mouthing off.”
Dáithí stares at me, then shakes his head. “You’re good.”
My heart is beating fast, thanks to the adrenaline, but I’m still in control of my feelings. “Am I? I thoughtwewere good. That our arrangement was good.”
“It is, but…”
It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to interrupt. Not to tell him to forget the buts. If I do that, he’ll see through my calm façade and this will all be over.
“I know you want more, Eoin.”
