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“You’re right. You should come for a drink with me tonight to remedy that.”
I smiled. “I don’t drink.”
His eyebrows rose. “You don’t?”
I shook my head. “Never have.”
“So, you don’t drink, and you’ve never taken drugs. Woman, you need to start living.”
“I like the way I’m living just fine,” I replied before continuing. “You should ask Helena out for a drink. I bet she’d say yes.”
He gave a laugh. “No, she wouldn’t. She’d scrunch her face up in that way she does and tell me she’d rather consume a bowl of sick.”
“What a lovely thing to say to someone when they’re trying to eat their lunch,” I joked, and he grinned.
“Okay. I apologise. But seriously, what makes you think she likes me?”
“Have I not already paid you enough compliments?” He shrugged, and I exhaled a sigh. “Okay, it’s mainly one thing. I’ve caught her smiling at you when you interact and joke around with the kids. She looks at you with this expression on her face like she’s thinking about what a great father you’ll make one day.”
Marco’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets. “That’s … okay, that’s interesting.”
“Some food for thought,” I replied before eating the final bite of my wrap. “Speaking of food, this was delicious. Thanks again for cooking for me.”
“I’m a feeder. Can’t help it.”
“You picked the perfect career, then,” I said and rose, dusting off my glass of water before heading back inside the house. Helena was in the kitchen studying the colour-coded timetable that displayed each of the kid’s daily routines. She didn’t acknowledge me, so I left her to it and got back to cleaning.
4.
Maggie
I was completely exhausted by the end of the day. Cleaning the Connolly house was my most labour-intensive job of the week, so I was always wrecked afterwards. It was also a Friday, which meant the bus journey home would be packed. Yay!
When I arrived at the bus stop, a group of men were being loud. They’d clearly had a few drinks, perhaps over a business dinner, and were making their presence known to everyone within hearing distance. After the encounter with the guy outside my flat the other night, it seemed I couldn’t get away from those types lately.
Hearing them make rude comments about several of the women waiting for the bus, I tried my best to stay off their radar. He wasn’t there yet, and I knew I would’ve felt less on edge about the tipsy businessmen if he were close by. There was something reassuring about his presence, like nothing bad could happen while he was near.
He arrived just as I spotted the bus approaching. I got on board, swiped my card and sat in my usual seat. The businessmen were still being loud but at least they went upstairs to the upper deck to continue their offensive banter. I noticed him watching them as they ascended, a frown marring his features. His eyes flicked to mine, and my heart raced when he gave a small nod.
Wait, did he actually just acknowledge me?
That was the most interaction I’d ever gotten from him, and it made my heart race. I managed to compose myself enough to nod back, and he moved by me to sit two rows behind as usual.
Laughter and hoots of enjoyment sounded from the top deck. There was barely a seat empty on the entire bus, and anyone I made eye contact with looked just as put out by the noise as I was. There was nothing worse than working hard all day and then having to endure loud drunks on the journey home.
We were nearing a stop when a woman came down from the top deck looking harassed and upset. She walked to the front of the bus, raked a hand through her hair, then quickly alighted once the bus came to a halt. More people got on, and I glanced momentarily behind me to see him allowing an older woman to take his seat. My heart melted just a little as I watched him take hold of the railing to balance himself.
Just like that, he was forgiven for ignoring me yesterday. People who gave up their seats for those who needed them more were becoming a rare commodity these days.
His dark eyes flicked to mine and held. I didn’t know what to do. I was locked in his stare, and I couldn’t look away until my phone vibrated in my bag, distracting me. I pulled it out and saw my little sister, Vivi, was calling.
She was only my half-sister. My mother had me young, and I’d never known who my father was. It had been just the two of us and a collection of short-term boyfriends, none of whom I’d ever warmed to. Mam had a knack for picking the worst of the worst. Then, when I was sixteen, she met Darren and fell head over heels into the kind of dysfunctional love that destroys everything around it. As soon as she became pregnant with Vivi, Darren began making noises about me moving out and getting a place of my own. I was a teenager, barely old enough to get a job, but Mam agreed and said it was time for me to make my own way in the world.
