48
“Happy birthday, birthday girl!” Ash screams, bouncing on my bed on Wednesday morning, dragging me from a deep sleep. “Oh my God, Viv. You’re sleeping with it now.” She shakes her head, grinning as she yanks the pillow out from under my head. “You’ve got it so bad for my brother.”
“Give me that!” I snatch it back, pulling it into my chest. “This just happens to be one of the best presents I’ve ever received.”
“It’s certainly the cheesiest.”
I reread the words on the pillow, as I have done countless times since Dillon had it delivered on Monday.
“When you’re in need of a hug, give me a squeeze.”
He’d added a note in his distinctive handwriting saying he knew this was a poor substitute for one of his hugs, but he hoped it would help if I was feeling sad. I honestly can’t fathom how Dillon hasn’t had a relationship before because he’s either the world’s greatest fake or the most genuinely romantic guy ever.
“Speaking of the sap,” Ash adds. “He sent breakfast over for both of us, so get your lazy arse out of bed and join me in the kitchen.” Her lips pull into a smile. “You also have presents. Lots of presents, so come on, get up!” Yanking on my foot, she tugs me down the bed, and I throw a cushion at her.
“I’m getting up. I need to pee and brush my teeth, and I’ll be out then.”
I watch her leave, smiling at Dillon’s latest romantic gesture. I know he feels bad he couldn’t be here this morning for my birthday. I reassured him a million times on FaceTime last night that it’s fine. Toxic Gods has been rehearsing around the clock, ahead of tonight’s Trinity Ball, and I don’t hold it against him. We’ll get to celebrate later, and I can’t wait to see him. Excitement races through my veins as I sit up, a combination of birthday happiness, enthusiasm for the ball, and elation at the prospect of seeing Dillon tonight.
I’ve decided I want tonight to bethe night.
I’ve thought about it these past few days, and I want to have sex with Dillon.
I’m ready.
Waking up that Sunday morning, after he blew my mind with his skillful tongue, mouth, and fingers, was incredible, and it felt right. His strong arms had kept me safe all night, and I had the best sleep. Snuggling into his warm chest, and feeling his ripped masculine body against mine, was perfect and I want to take things to the next level. Coming to Ireland, I made a decision to be brave and strong, and this is me doing that.
I’m taking control of my life and my sexuality, and I’m not going to feel guilty for giving in to my desires.
A tiny kernel of guilt had attacked Sunday morning because waking up wrapped around Dillon had reminded me of similar mornings with Reeve. I didn’t mention anything to Dillon because I never want to hurt him or have him compare himself to my ex, but I think he could tell anyway.
My therapist, Sheila, says it’s normal to feel like this and completely natural. That little things will trigger memories of Reeve, especially because we share such an extensive history. She says a lot of women do it subconsciously when they move from one relationship to another. She also says, in time, I will find a way to make peace with it all, and I will be able to look back on my good memories with fondness.
I really hope she’s right.
Grabbing my journal, I add another entry to my list of personal promises: Stop comparing Dillon to Reeve.
The journal was another one of Sheila’s ideas, and I’ve been writing like crazy—recording my feelings, my thoughts, and my hopes for the future. I’ve also documented the past, both the good and the bad, and it’s helping me to process my emotions.
After a quick bathroom stop, I head out to the kitchen, slamming to a halt at the sight that awaits me. Familiar spicy notes tickle my nostrils, and my jaw drops to the ground as I stare in shock at all the bouquets of lavender roses. There are enough to open a florist, and the smell is almost an assault on the senses.
“There are twenty-one bouquets, in case you’re wondering,” Ash says, pouring boiling water into a teapot. “That colorful bunch in the vase on the table are from your parents. The other twenty are from Reeve. One for every year you’ve been on the planet.” Her scathing tone matches the mocking sneer on her face, making her feelings clear.
I stare at my Irish bestie, the unspoken question still lingering on my tongue.
“Don’t be mad, but I opened the cards. Today is a big day for you. It’s your birthday, and I know how excited you are about the ball. I just wanted to ensure nothing he had written would upset you. I apologize if I crossed a line.”
I know her actions are coming from a good place, so I let it go even if it does feel like an invasion of my privacy. I’d have shared them with her anyway. “It’s okay. I know you did it to protect me, but in the future, maybe check with me first?”
She nods, walking toward the table. “Come on. Let’s eat before it gets cold.”
After a gorgeous breakfast, I open the gifts from my parents, Ash, Cat, Ro, and Audrey. “Mum baked you this,” Ash says, lifting the top off a cake tin to reveal a gorgeous chocolate cake with “Happy 20thBirthday Vivien” written in red icing on the top.
Happy tears pool in my eyes, as I haul my friend into a hug. “Your mom is the best. I want to call her to thank her.”
Ash pulls out her phone, punching in numbers. “Dil wants to give you your present tonight,” she supplies, thrusting her phone at me. “I’m really hoping that’s not a euphemism for what I think it is.”
I burst out laughing just as Mrs. O’Donoghue answers the call, and I have to hurriedly compose myself. We chat for a few minutes, and I pass her over to her daughter while I clear the table and load the plates and silverware in the dishwasher.