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“You told me to come at lunchtime to show you my designs,” I say past the lump in my throat.
“Um, sweetheart, I completely forgot.” Dad sighs heavily. I brace myself when the nerve under his eye twitches. He hates being put on the spot, well, by anyone but Fin. My brother can get away with anything. “I’m really busy. I’m not running a charity here. But, whatever, come back tomorrow, yes? I’ll look at your little design then.”
I don’t miss the way Fin rolls his eyes. I always envied my classmates who had older brothers who watched out for them. I can’t remember Fin saying a kind word to me my whole life. He was already five when I was born. I think Mum and Dad were worried he’d feel left out when a new kid arrived, so they made sure to still shower him in attention, so much so that I was kind of neglected and forgotten about. Didn’t help that Fin is outgoing whereas I’m quiet and can get lost in my head. He’s still the one they fuss around. All the time. Sometimes, I think his attention-seeking behaviour makes him appear thirteen not twenty-three.
“Sure, Dad.” I turn to Mum. “C-can’t you change the lunch booking to four people?”
Mum sighs heavily. “I’m sorry, love, it didn’t even cross my mind to ask if you wanted to go when we spoke this morning.I’m so used to it being only the three of us with you away at school. But it’s too late now. It’s the Shelbourne, darling. I can’t just change the booking last minute. I would come across as a floozy.”
“I thought a five-star hotel was all about service and accommodating their guests?”
“Now, don’t be smart, young lady,” Dad barks. “No one likes a woman who talks back. How will you ever catch a decent man if you talk back like that?”
Firmly chastised, I lower my head.
“And button up your blouse, Caitlin,” Mum whispers as she passes me. “What would Father Murray say if he knew you were dressed like a slut?”
If sluts dressed like me, they would be hard of business. I reach for the second top button of my white blouse, there, still on the threshold of the office, as my family go on their way to have lunch. Without me. I try to blink away angry tears that threaten as I hear Fin’s snarky voice down the hallway.
“Oh my God, does she think she can come in here and be a designer after a couple of art classes in school?”
“Now, don’t be mean. Not everyone can be as talented as you, love,” Mum coos.
3
Aidan
“Can I see your designs?”
Caitlin jumps, then laughs nervously, her hair casting her face in shadows as her head tilts downwards. I recognise the anger and despair on her face. How many times have I felt the same? How many times has Finbar made me feel an inch tall?
“You have to stop scaring me, Mr Byrne.”
“Sorry.” I smirk.
My gaze lands on her fingers buttoning her shirt and I grind my teeth.
Irene, Caitlin’s mother, has a lot of qualities I admire in a woman – she’s confident and independent – yet she’s also one of the most insufferable women I’ve ever met. With her string of pearls and Father Seamus Murray on speed dial, she believes herself above everyone, way above me, that’s for sure. Irene and Finbar are some pair.
“Let me see them.”
Her hands stop at the top button and her head comes up. Glassy green eyes meet mine. “What?”
“Your designs,” I repeat.
“Oh!” Her fingers finish the work then drop, hiding in the folds of her dark grey skirt. “Oh, it’s okay, you don’t have to. It’s nothing special.”
“I’d really like to.”
In amongst the badly veiled hurt caused by her parents’ words, there’s this little piece of hope swimming in sweet Caitlin’s face.
“Um…” She bites her pink lip. “Okay. Just… don’t have high expectations.” She tries to laugh, but it’s stuck in her throat.
I gesture down the hallway to my office and follow her swaying hips. Her skirt reaches well below her knees, hiding the shape of her calves, but shows slim ankles above her tennis shoes. Ankles that would look amazing in a pair of heels.
Caitlin is a cute female version of her dad – red hair, green eyes, freckly skin and short. Whereas Finbar has expanded sideways, Caitlin is lithe like a fairy. Her brother, on the other hand, is the spitting image of their mother – tall and dark with flawless pale skin.
You would think Caitlin had pulled the short straw, but there’s no denying her beauty while carrying her innocence like an alluring aura around her petite frame. My eyelids lower as I wonder if her ass has freckles.
