Atonement(54)

“I’ve always tried my best to be a good girl, a nice woman. The type a man could take home and introduce to his family proudly. Granted sleeping with a pair of brothers isn’t the most ideal thing to do but if I had known what was going to happen between us then I would have been much more careful with my choices and decisions.

“I hadn’t slept with anyone since Dad died. That’s why I think I fell for all of Liam’s charms and I wanted him to be you in the worst way but at the same time, I was so afraid of wrecking our friendship, I couldn’t risk it—wouldn’t risk it. Alas, in life, there are no take-backs and perhaps you hate me just a little bit for what I done but I only want to be with you. You’re the only man I see in my bed at this moment and this is where I want to be. You’ve got to believe me.”

I didn’t realize I was crying until the tears continued to roll down my face and Colin threw his cigarette along the pavement before he wiped my tears away and slipped his arms around my neck.

“Baby, I don’t hate you. It happened and people make mistakes. I’m not calling the night between you and Liam one because if that is what you wanted to do then you did it, we accept it and move on. It isn’t the first time he’s stolen a girl from underneath me but he won’t ever have that chance again—not with you. I promise.”

I threw my cigarette to the ground and crushed it underneath my shoe. “Are you sure you’re okay with this because my sister made me feel like crap and I can’t have you hating me.”

“I’m not okay with it but what can I do? I still love you like I have never loved another and I can get over it. You’re the one…I know it…and yeah, I hate Liam knows what you look like without any clothes but it isn’t the end of the world.”

He slid his hands over my face as we looked at one another and the way his thumb caressed my chin, I knew we would be okay.

“Come on, let’s go back to the apartment,” I murmured.

Colin gave me a look of incredulousness. “Um, not without finishing our beers. Then we can go back to the apartment.”

I smiled and nodded. “Fine. Let’s go finish our beers and then go back to the apartment where you will peel off my clothes and make love to me.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Our foreheads pressed together and I knew there and then we would be all right.





Chapter Fifteen





AFTER BERLIN, WE flew to Amsterdam and one of the best—and worst—times of our lives.

It was quite different being surrounded around hash cafes and the red light district just a short walk from where we were staying.

I was actually quite glad Colin had suggested we use other people’s apartments because it made the experience of being in each city that much more special. We spent the second day in the city walking around the red light district and visited both the Sex Museum and the Anne Frank House before we rounded out our day at The Grasshopper with yet more lager and some of the best marijuana I’d smoked in my life.

Somewhere between my third lager and my second joint, it hit me and I realized I had more than my fill. I was going to be sick and not in a good way. I rushed to the toilet and thanked God one was available because my lunch and all the lager I drank rushed up before I could bend over all the way.

Someone knocked on my door and inquired in English, “Are you okay in there?”

I braced the toilet seat. “Yes, thank you. I think I overdid the pot and beer, that’s all.”

The female voice laughed. “Yeah, that happens to Yanks a lot. They forget how strong the pot is here and they end up smoking too much.”

I wiped my mouth with toilet paper before I flushed and opened the door to face a tall blonde who looked friendly enough. Her accent was definitely Dutch though it was hardly there and her blue-green eyes shined brightly.

“I’m Carolien. I actually work here but it’s my off night and I’m here with my boyfriend. You want some company?”

I washed out my mouth at the sink before I washed my hands, dried and finally shook her hand. “Deirdre. Sure, I think that would be great but I didn’t expect to be…approached as I have read the Dutch are pretty reserved.”

She laughed out loud. “We are except your boyfriend is a van der Meer and he speaks fluent Dutch like he was born and raised in the middle-class section of The Hague. It turns out his father was, and our families know one another’s. Imagine that. My mother had a huge crush on his father when they were growing up. She knew he moved to America but what are the odds I would run into his son all these years later at The Grasshopper?”