3. Ronan

CHAPTER 3

RONAN

“ W hat the hell is wrong with you?” Keith seethes as I toss my luggage over my shoulder. Ignoring him, I continue to the car park, with an undeniable skip in step. Only making it a few strides, he grips my elbow and tugs me backwards. “Ronan! Why were you talking to Nora?”

I don’t have an explanation that would land well. Or, rather, the honest answer I could give would earn me a fist to my face—I saw Nora and couldn't get to her fast enough. “She’s a reporter, and her son was wearing my number. I was making small talk.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he growls. “You know she’s my ex.”

“So what if she is. It’s been fucking years, Keith. Years! We’re just friends, and you broke up with the lass over a decade ago because you fucking cheated on her.” Nora never told me how old her son is; I only managed to find out small tidbits about him over the past year. Anytime I asked, she changed the subject. Leo looked to be about ten or twelve. My eyes fly wide. “ Fuck! Is Leo yours?”

“Is that his name?” Keith rakes a hand through his short black hair, shaking his head. “No.”

“The lad could be tall for his age, but maybe he’s…” I can’t speak it.

No, fuck that, I have to know.

“Are you sure Leo’s not yours?”

“I’m sure.” He chews on his lip, then looks around to make sure no one could be listening in, and keeps his voice low. “I tried to win her back a year after the break up. She already moved on; was married and newly pregnant. I fucked everything up and it was too late.” His scowl quickly turns to a smirk. “But when I found out she was moving back to cover us, I looked her up. Socials say she’s single. I’m hoping for a second chance with her.”

Not in a million years.

I arch an eyebrow. “Has she forgiven you?”

“No,” he replies simply.

I wait for more of an answer. When it doesn’t come, my posture stiffens. “You know me Mum raised siblings and me all by herself. Nora is doing the same thing. Are you ready to be a father to him?”

“Christ, no,” he laughs, and all I can see is red.

“Then stay the fuck away from her,” I spit, unable to help being protective of Nora. It’s one thing to fuck around with a random woman you meet at a bar after a match, it’s another to casually fuck a single mum—especially one who will report on our performance on and off the pitch.

Nora deserves better than that.

His eyes narrow. “Why do you care? And why the fuck were you talking to her?”

Honestly, I wanted to ask Nora on a proper date like Vicky suggested. The only reason I didn’t was because it would’ve been awkward in front of her son. Keith likely had the same idea until he saw me talking to her. I don’t trust him to not break her heart again, and it isn’t as if I can tell him any of that.

“How are you still harbouring feelings for her after all this time? What do you want from her, Keith?”

“It doesn’t matter. Answer my question: Why were you talking to her?”

With a heavy sigh, I deflect with humour. “Can we fight over the lass with a drink after the match tomorrow? I’m late to meet someone.”

His expression softens as he claps me on the shoulder. “There’s no contest; you don’t stand a chance with a woman like Nora. Drink’s are on me tomorrow. It’s the least I can do, since I’ll get the girl.”

We’ll see about that.

Nora sends me the address to her hotel where a small restaurant next door is open for a few more hours. It’s a quick drive, and when I walk inside, I immediately spot her and Leo. She’s changed out of her black leggings and grey tunic, and is now in a light blue sundress that accentuates her curves.

Is she wearing it for me?

The thought warms my chest as Leo spots me, waving me over. I’m used to seeing kids excited, but there’s something about Leo that’s different. I can’t put my finger on it and want to get to know him better

“Sorry I’m late. What are we having?” I take a seat without any other greeting and open the menu. Part of me is afraid she’ll ask me to leave at any moment.

“We haven’t ordered. I’m having pasta, with no mushrooms,” Leo announces, entirely sure of himself.

“That sounds grand, maybe I’ll do the same. Want to split it?” I glance up, finding Nora studying me curiously.

Leo’s eyes light up briefly, then nervously sighs, “Oh. I guess I could get mushrooms.”

“You better not!” I insist. “I hate the texture. They're slimy and I want them nowhere near our pasta.” I turn up my nose like I did as a kid, making Leo chuckle, and ask Nora, “What are you having?”

“I ate on the plane, so I’m having a pint.” She lifts it in a cheers. “I hope you don’t mind that we ordered drinks without you?”

“That’s codswallop, and you know it.” I nod to the anxious waitstaff behind the bar, and they rush over. “I think we’re ready.”

Nora sips her pint as I gesture to Leo to order for us. He clears his throat dramatically and attempts an Irish accent as he orders. Though, it sounds more Scottish than Irish. “This is Mr. O’Leary, the greatest striker in the league. And we’ll be sharing the pasta with no mushrooms.” Nora shields her face in embarrassment, stifling her giggles, and I let out a full laugh. His accent is abhorrent at best, but I can’t stop smiling. “Did I do it right?”

“Grand. You sound as if you’ve lived here all your life, mate. But you can call me Ronan, if you like.”

“He said I can call him Ronan,” Leo whispers to his mum.

“I’ll have a stout, when you have a moment,” I order.

“Of course, is there anything else I can get ya in the meantime?”

“No, thanks a million, Clara.”

“You know her?” Leo asks as Clara makes her way back to the bar.

“No,” I chuckle. “I’ll admit, I do know a lot of people. But it’s on her nametag.”

I’m trying to be present for Leo, but I can’t help my focus on Nora. We have spent hours upon hours talking about everything from celebrity gossip to favourite recipes, but she’s looking at me as if she doesn’t know me at all. Our stare down ensues, until she takes a sip, hiding a small smirk behind her pint glass. I must’ve hit a nerve at some point and, for the life of me, I can’t figure her out. Messaging back and forth this past year, conversation has always flowed freely. It’s as if she’s put a wall up, and I want none of it, and now am on a mission to tear it down. Brick by brick. This has nothing to do with Keith, and everything to do with how I’ve been pining after a woman on the other side of a messaging app for far too long.

Nora hasn’t said much since I sat down. Yet, I can’t help grinning at the amusement now dancing across her features. “So, Nora, I didn’t have a chance to ask earlier, how was your flight?”

“It took forever ,” Leo answers for them with an exasperated groan.

Eyes twinkling, she replies simply, “He’s right. How was yours?”

“The club takes care of us. We have a private plane, so I have no complaints.”

Leo’s smile widens. “Private plane?”

“Aye, the only way to travel.” I offer a wink, which only adds to his excitement. “When the new league formed, they made sure every team had one.”

A different waiter from before delivers my stout to the table, scurrying away as quickly as he came. I’m not used to the shy behaviour, I’ve signed everything from a business card to a tit. I’m only briefly confused by it, until I notice a journalist from a match last week in the corner.

Is he watching us?

Awkward silence settles at the table, and I can’t stand it. “So, Leo, your mum mentioned you play footie.”

“I did back home. Mom had me in a soccer rec league, and I was supposed to try out for comp but…” His face falls.

“But, what?”

Leo looks to Nora who also has sullen eyes. “It’s my new job,” she replies quietly.

Fuck. Me.

“Well, you’re in Cork, home of the best football club in the world.” I gesture around me with a wide sweep of the room.

“I thought that was England?” Leo counters and I wave him off.

“My nephew plays on a team and he’s about your age. Would you like me to check if my sister can send over the contact information? Maybe we can see about you playing late this season?”

Nora and Leo perk up at the offer and I apologise for using my phone at the table to text my sister, Bridget. As I type, they whisper to each other. I can’t help laughing to myself overhearing Leo saying in rapid succession, “I might get to play soccer— football —in Ireland! Jake’s going to be so jealous. I’ll have to tell Auntie Elle. Maybe she can come visit us and see me play? It’s real football…”

“Shh, let’s not get our hopes up, peanut. He mentioned the season already started.”

My sister is good friends with the organisers who run the league my nephew plays on; I know she’ll pull strings for me. Also, since I helped Ireland win the World Cup, it has to count for something, right? If I have any say in it, Leo will play this season. “What position do you play?”

“Forward,” he replies, puffing out his chest. “Just like you.”

I lean in and keep my voice quiet. “Then why did you tell our server I’m the best striker? Next time, remind them that it’s me who has the pleasure of dining with you .”

Nora’s cheeks are rosy and I hope she doesn’t think I’m buttering up her son to get to her. Leo is a fun lad and I’m genuinely having a grand time talking with him. Though, mild guilt seeps in that I like Nora but haven’t outright told her.

I ask myself the same question I asked Keith. The answer is simple. Growing up with an absentee father, I would never bond with a child of a single mum I’m dating, without being one hundred percent certain it’s not temporary.

For any other woman, I’d be running the other way. Nora? Fucking hell. Those sheepish smiles, the way her eyes light up while talking to her son, our late night talks, how she undeniably undressed me from head to toe when I saw her at the airport…

This is more than a crush. I like her. A little too much.