It's okay. I know.
Another thing about Dan—the way he talked to me was too wishy-washy. I didn't want a man to pussyfoot his way around with me. I wanted him to tell me everything. Eamon was always sweet, but when he made up his mind about something, there was no convincing him otherwise. He was determination wrapped up in a ridiculously sexy package.
I really want to fuck you, Katherine.The man could walk into a room, look me in the eye, and say that out loud with no prompting, and it seemed perfectly normal.
Oh, really?
Unless you tell me no, yes.
I see.Being coy was my only way to keep on even footing with Eamon, but it was all a ruse. He always had the upper hand. Or at least it had felt that way.
Are you going to tell me no?
No.
No?
I'm not going to tell you no. I can't tell you no. You know that.
I still like to hear you say yes.He'd whisper it right into my ear, his breath hot against my skin. The whole charade was so pointless, but I enjoyed the hell out of it. I lived for it.
Yes, Eamon. Yes.
I wasn't the only woman who adored Eamon. Not by a long shot. Millions of women did. The bulk of them had experienced only the proverbial tip of the iceberg—they'd listened to his music, seen him perform, or ogled his photo in a magazine. That was the public Eamon. It was only the tiniest hint of what made him sexy, intriguing, and utterly beguiling. That was where the sense of playing with fire came from. If someone could love and adore him from afar, how was I supposed to do it up close when everything about him was so damn overwhelming?
I was still searching for that answer. I suspected I might never find it. I might have to learn to live with not knowing.
The nightof my sister's engagement party, I had Eamon on speaker. “If it wasn't for my sister, I wouldn't be going to this party at all.”
“Of course not. It's an engagement party. What other reason would there be to go?” Eamon was on the same practical answer plan as my sister.
“This is my way of telling you I'd rather be doing anything other than this. Anything.” I knew exactly how messed up my attitude was. I hadn't seen Amy in days and it was starting to feel as though my heart was shriveling up. I found myself wondering what she was doing, whether or not she was okay, all the time. It took everything I had not to text her ten times a day. But because my despair was born out of her leaving to get married, I felt no inclination to go to the engagement party. This was going to be a celebration dedicated to the very thing that was making me unhappy.
I sighed. “I’m going to have to get drunk.”
“Donotdo that. You'll regret it. And you'll piss off your sister.”
“Fine. I won't get drunk. But I'm texting you from the bathroom if it gets really bad.”
“I’ll likely be on stage at the time, but sure.”
“So you won't actually text me back in the middle of a show?”
“Something tells me the people paying money to see me perform might take issue with that.”
“But I need you,” I joked. Where would I be right now if Eamon hadn't come back into my life? Drowning in tears, most likely.
“I fucking love hearing that.” His voice had gone to that low place, the one that made the earth stop spinning.
“It's the truth.”
“I need you, too.”
I plopped down on the bed and crossed my legs. “No you don't. You're one of the most well-adjusted people I know.”
“Doesn't mean you haven't made me a lot happier over these last few weeks.”
And I was here all along, you big dolt.“That's very sweet. You've made me happier, too.” Of course, that was relative only to my normal state—worry and pessimism intermingled with blips of cheer.
