Page 11 of Paddy

Her husband hadn't exactly had a program on hand to give me a good idea of what she looked like, but with a name like Pretty, I sure as hell was expecting someone pretentious.Thatshe lived up to. I just didn’t know she’d be such a knockout.

She fit the Hollywood mold. Classic style, perfect hair, the kind of figure that was hard not to take a second look.

Admittingly, I'd never given myself permission to appreciate many full-figured women before, but at the same time, I'd never given Black women much thought until Cillian married one.

I've faced beatings to last a lifetime with Pa, and I wasn't going to give him another reason to have me end up in a cast. To think, I would have ended up with Queenie had I not been too much for the girl. But I was relieved that she had been a better fit for Cillian.

But back on subject, I likely wouldn’t end up withanywoman, race had little to do with it. But now that I gave myself permission to, my eyes definitely wandered a bit. I imagine all the possibilities I could have had if I’d been more open to it like Bellamy.

I just didn’t have time, nor did I make it for women to be in my life for more than being at the end of my paddle. Courting was a waste of time and women broughtanythingbut peace. And that myth that they loved unconditionally couldn’t be furthest from the truth.

Even the best of them couldn’t love a man with flaws. And I was a man withmanyflaws. Falling in love, getting hitched and having kids was just a fantasy to trick people into marriage. It was no longer a goal that felt reachable, so I just stopped reaching. So long as I got to express my degenerate ways from time to time, I was content.

Joining my boss's wife in the driver’s seat, seconds from placing the keys in the ignition, I got distracted by the sight of thick thighs, dropping the keys under her feet. Out of reflex, I reached for them, causing her to say through gritted teeth, “Excuse you.”

“Oh, you're excused,” I challenged back, as she rolled her eyes, resting her face in her hand that was resting on the door’s dashboard.

“This has got to be a joke. Ain't no way inhellmy husband hiredyouof all people to watch my child.”

“Well, better get used to it, because you're stuck with me for six months,” I laughed, happy to be under her skin so soon into meeting her. This was going to be fun.

“I'm gonna have to have a talk with my husband, because he'd have to be insane to hire a man to watch a child,” she said out loud, trying to convince herself this wasn’t happening.

“Look sweetheart, the only insane thing is the bill you're gonna get for having to reimburse me for this tow and body repair. And just so you know, ain't a thing a man can't do. Which I can't say the same for women.”

“Well, a man can't have a child,” she countered through squinted eyes.

“You got me there. But what youcan'tdo is turn a boy into a man. You can nurture a boy, but you can't help him become one,” I said, shutting her up once again.

For all Oisín’s faults, I probably wouldn't have been as tough without him. I fucking hated him. More so when I gave myself time to think about him. But he was gone and had barely any fight left him when he kicked the bucket, so wasn't even worth making space for him in my mind anymore.

“Men say that, then they're barely present. Even when their kids are there right in front of them,” she admitted, hinting at some deep seeded resentment she was likely holding onto to weaponize her husband with it later.

“I'm sure your husband would disagree. But I reckon it's why people stay in bad marriages. The kids are literally fucked when the father isn't in the home,” I challenged, something she didn’t seem to like very much.

“If you're gonna talk the entire time, I'm going to need a list of your qualifications. At minimum list of references.”

“Calm down, sweetheart. What I gave your husband was sufficient enough. You should trust him more. He's got your best interest at heart,” I said, shooting her a wink that seemed to infuriate her. And I was just getting started.

“My name's notsweetheart, it's Pretty,” she corrected. Far as I was concerned, they meant the same thing when it came to her.

“Okay,Pretty,” I overemphasized. “Whatever you need to know, you can ask through your husband. I'm not going to get in the middle of all that marriage bliss bickering. Just know the job your husbandhiredfrom me for, I'm more than qualified.”

Which wasn't a lie. I was hired to protect her, but I could already see why he couldn't be upfront with her. She was as irritating as a woman could get. It was clear to anyone with eyes that someone wore the pants in that relationship, and it sure as hell wasn't her fucking husband.

It was a good thing the closest mechanic had only been a twenty-minute drive from the accident site. Otherwise I would have blown my brains out by having to argue back and forth with this woman.

She didn't even wait for me to get out the car first when we parked, forcing me to catch up before she could reach the door. “Look,” I stopped her, catching her by the side before she could waltz in. “Why don't you letmetake the lead on this one? Some things are better to left to a man.”

“So just shut up and let you do all the talking?” she said, shooting me a beautiful scowl, that on another woman would have made her less attractive, but even in that frown, she lived up to her name.

“Best thing you said all morning,” I joked.

A woman like Pretty was easy to rile up. In fact, doing so with intention actually made it more fun. As we were about toapproach a front desk, the disagreeable woman not only cut me off, she took charge, something I had advised her not to do.

“Good afternoon,” I started with a fake American accent. “We’re in the need of a?—”

“Hi, my name is Pretty Washington, and this is my husband, Patrick Washington. I fear we may have gotten ourselves into a bit of a pickle.” I turned to her, surprised. So, I was her husband now?

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