Page 82 of Bossy Bodyguard

“She is serious,” Cillian said in his stern voice.

“You’re telling me…” he pointed to himself, his eyes still wide with a flush on his cheeks, “that my dad is not only protecting you from that creepy stalker, but…” He made a circle with one hand and rocked the index finger of the other in and out of that circle repeatedly.

I stared blankly at him and crossed my arms. “Yes, I slept with your dad.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Caleb whimpered, kneeling on the ground and covering his face.

Cillian glared at me. “Did you have to be so blunt?”

I raised my brow. “He is acting like a dramatic little bitch. It’s not like we were hiding it from him.”

“He is sensitive,” Cillian whispered in my ear.

“I’m not sensitive!” Caleb yelled, staring at both of us with tears gleaming in his eyes.

“I know he is,” I whispered back. I couldn’t stand seeing him on his knees like that and helped him up. “I think you should have this conversation alone with your dad—”

“I don’t want to talk—” He tried to leave, but I held his arm.

“No. You’re not leaving again. You’re going to talk to Cillian like an adult.”

He made a face and looked at both of us. “Please don’t tell me you are going to get married, and I’d have to call you my step-mommy or some shit.”

“Are you high?” Cillian asked, narrowed his eyes at his son.

“No, but I wish I was so I could be saved from this—”

“Caleb, you owe me big time for what you did,” I snapped, and pointed at the couch. “Go sit down and calm your ass.”

He glared back, but shut his mouth and sat down. Cillian was staring at me with an amused look. “I can definitely see who wore the pants in your past relationship.”

“Talk to him and apologize,” I whispered to Cillian, squeezing his hand. “I’ll be upstairs and if I hear shouting or something breaking, I’m going to be disappointed.”

His eyes softened, and he was going to kiss my hair, but stopped. “Yes, ma’am.”

Cillian

The silence between Caleb and me stretched. Neither of us were willing to look at each other. Emma would definitely be disappointed.

“I didn’t know you were home,” I said quietly.

His jaw was clenched as he kept staring at the rug. “I was planning to watch a football match with you.”

“Oh.” I blinked at him, confused and guilty. “You could’ve told me. I would have bought some beer—”

“Tell you when, Dad?” he asked, his voice rising. “You are at Emma’s house all day.”

“It’s my last job, Caleb.”

He sighed, running a hand down his face. “I know you are keeping her safe, but…”

“Before you say anything, I am sorry.” I clenched my hand, my stomach tightening. “I didn’t take care of you when you needed me. I kept wallowing in self-pity. I know you hate me, and our relationship will never be okay, but I want you to know that I care about you, son. I apologize for not showing it to you.”

Neither of us said anything and I couldn’t bring myself to look at him as shame creeped over me.

“I don’t.”

“What?” I glanced at him.

---