21
Chris
What the hell am I doing outside this house, all dressed up, with a cake in my hands? I must’ve gone completely mad.
I asked Riley for the address, trying to be discreet about it, but discreet isn’t really my forte. So I just told her that, after yesterday’s episode, I’d like to go and visit the O’Connors to check that everything’s okay. My mother always taught me never to go to someone’s house empty-handed, so I stole a cake from the café and brought it with me.
Riley reassured me that I wouldn’t be intruding on anything, and they’d be pleased to see me – so here I am. I can do this.
I knock on the door, and quickly smooth down my windswept hair, balancing the cake in my other hand.
The door opens and Mrs O’Connor’s warm smile immediately makes me feel better.
“Hi, Mrs O’Connor. I hope I’m not interrupting anything…”
“Of course not! It’s lovely to see you.”
I smile nervously.
“I just wanted to see how Mr O’Connor’s doing.”
“He’s doing well. Come in, come in.”
“I don’t want to be rude.”
“Of course you’re not, dear. It’s always nice to have visitors. Come in, my husband’s in the back garden, sorting out some of the plants. That green thumb of his – I’d be happy to just leave it all to grow over,” she chats, inviting me in.
“I…I brought you this,” I say, handing her the cake. “It’s a strawberry cheesecake, we make them in the café.”
“Thank you, love, you shouldn’t have.”
I feel my face flush bright red, and follow her through to the kitchen. She puts the cake down on the countertop and asks me if I’d like anything to drink.
“I couldn’t say no!” I say cheekily.
“I’ll bring you a glass of wine. Feel free to go and say hi,” she says, nodding towards the back door. “He’s doing much better today, I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you.”
I do as she suggests and open the back door. Mr O’Connor notices me right away, looking up from his rose bush.
“Good evening, love,” he smiles kindly at me.
“Hi, Mr O’Connor. I was just in the neighbourhood and thought I’d pop in.”
“I’m glad you did,” he says, getting up from the ground and taking off his gloves. He approaches me with his hand outstretched. “We don’t get many visitors, apart from the three usual troublemakers…”
“Hey,” a voice says from inside, followed by a head poking out from the doorframe. “Who are you talking about, there?”
Oh, shit.
He takes off his hat and wipes his forehead with an arm, my jaw dropping to the floor. I can count all the veins in his neck, his arms, and the ones snaking down beneath his belt.
“Oh…hi,” he says, realising who I am.
“Er…hi.”
His father watches us both, narrowing his eyes.
“Mmm,” he says.
