Page 26 of Paddy

“Look at Ms. fancy words,” he laughed.

“That's just what they call it in New York,” sharing an exchange of laughter. “I've never had one, though. Maybe I should just save some of it. I'm really trying to watch what I eat.”

“Live a little. Never heard of someone having a heart attack for eating a sandwich.”

“Easy for you to say. You probably have the metabolism of a five-year-old.”

“Pretty, if you don't justeatthe damn sandwich.” Whenever he told me to do something, he always called me by my name and not the formal version Mrs. Washington. It was clear that he was authoritative and used to getting people to do things.

Deciding to do as he asked, I held the sandwich close to my mouth, I was surprised by the simple but myriad of flavors. Itwaspretty good.

“See what happens when you let someone take the lead. They surprise you,” he added. I admit, Mr. Sullivan had a way about him where he dominated the room whenever he entered it.

While I was similar, I typically had to command it, whereas for him, it just came naturally. He was very traditional in that way. I liked that my husband had always made me feel like I had a say in most things, but it made him passive in a lot of other ways. While I would never admit this out loud, it was really attractive when a man took control.

It was attractive whenMr.Sullivantook control.

“Will there be anything else?” The wait staff circled by to check in.

“Just to check, if you don't mind,” I said, as I reached for my purse to grab my wallet.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asked defensively.

“You shared something with me today, taught me a lot. The least I could do is treat you to lunch.”

“Look, Mrs. Washington, I ain't letting a woman pay for me. I just wasn't raised that way.”

“It's not a big deal. It's not like I don't have it.”

“Oh, I'm confident that you do. But this ain't just an ego thing. I feel like a woman's time is worth paying for, whether if it's just for company or—other things. I feel like if I let you pay, it’d be a sign that your time don't mean nothing to me. And I appreciate your company.”

Time trulywasmoney. But I never had a person explain not wanting me to pay in a way like that. Sometimes it felt like men would refuse my generosity just to prove that they weren't broke. To have someone value my time was new for me.

“Fine,” I said, slipping my wallet back into my purse. Sooner than later, we both headed back to our respective vehicles, Mr. Sullivan walking me to mine.

“I'm going to tail you until you get home. Then I'm going to go straight to Elijah’s school.”

“That's really not necessary?—”

“I don't care what's necessary. I like being good at my job. When you're safe, I'm doing my job. Let me.” He dismissed, opening my car door for me and closing it behind me.

He stuck his head through my window and smiled. “Funny how we're always meeting like this,” he flirted, before reaching in and putting on my seatbelt.

“After you, Mrs. Washington.” As he hopped in his car, waiting for me to drive off. There was something about this man that put me in a constant state of unrest.

Mr. Sullivan was the desperate attention that I craved. I just wish I could do something about it.

Twelve

Paddy

Low and behold, another Sunday was upon me. Haven't missed a Sunday since Órfhlaith brought them back. After Cillian and Queenie got settled in their house, they started hosting, which to be honest, reminded me the most of when my one mum used to do it.

No one had anything on Órfhlaith, but that wife of Cillian’s knew what the hell she was doing in the kitchen. Best addition to the family, if you ask me.

Only thing different about it was they were happy times for once. The food had always been good, but I could remember a time or two where Pa would get so drunk he'd whip one of us for the whole family to see, just to show how much of an arse he can be. Why even lie? It was usually me.

There were some Sundays where I just completely lose my appetite waiting for the beating. When it didn't come, I'd just be hungry with the inability to eat for no reason. Things were noisy at Cillian’s, but I'm glad his kids and Órfhlaith’s get to inherit good memories.

---