15.
Jonathan
After Ada left that morning Maggie had questioned me endlessly about her living next door and what might be going on between us. I’d done my best to assure her I was merely trying to help Ada out during a tough time, but my half sister had been far from convinced. I didn’t know what I expected. Maggie was too smart not to see that there was something more between me and the stunningly beautiful brunette next door. Thankfully, though, she’d let it drop after a while.
Unfortunately, she’d then proceeded to encourage me once again to make an appointment with the grief counsellor who’d helped Shay and his father when Shay’s mother had passed. Normally, I’d avoid giving a straight answer and divert her attention to another topic, but the way I’d drank last night was a red flag. I’d been trying to numb my feelings, and that wasn’t a healthy sign. So, I’d relented and made the appointment. I didn’t look forward to spilling my guts to a professional, but maybe it would help. Stranger things had happened.
“This wine is incredible,” Ada commented, bringing my attention back to the present.
What was I even doing inviting her to share a glass with me? Asking for trouble, that was what. The memory of her silky cheeks beneath my palms, her soft mouth and drugging taste on my tongue had haunted me all day. Kissing her had been an impulsive move. I’d done it out of instinct, out of pure desire. Perhaps a part of me believed she’d push me away, and that would be the end of it. A full stop to the attraction I’d been harbouring. If I knew she didn’t want me back, then that would be reason enough to leave her alone. But she hadn’t stopped me. No, her mouth had welcomed mine. She’d blossomed open for me like a flower, and I’d gotten completely carried away, thoughts of falling to my knees and going down on her right there in the open plan living room had taken over my every instinct.
“Your sister seems lovely. I’m guessing you two had different upbringings?” she went on.
I tilted my head to her. “How’d you figure that?”
“Well, for a start, your accent is posh, and hers isn’t. She also has a completely different personality to yours.”
“Oh?” I couldn’t help being curious to hear more of her opinion, especially since she was correct in certain ways. Maggie and I had grown up in very different parts of Dublin. What we had in common was an absent, good for nothing father and mothers who’d welcomed various men into their lives who only functioned to make everything worse for their children.
“Have you ever heard of enneagram personality types?” Ada questioned, and I shook my head. “It’s sort of a pseudo-science.” She shot me a sheepish glance. “But I started studying it when I was made manager at Pinebrook. I thought it would help with leading a team of people to be able to identify each person’s type, their strengths and weaknesses.”
I drank some wine and studied her. “And did it?”
“A little. There are nine enneagram personality types, but sometimes it’s difficult to pinpoint exactly which one a person is.” She paused a moment to consider me. “If I had to take a guess, you’d be a one.”
“What’s a one?”
She took another sip of wine. “Ones are perfectionists with lots of ambition. They’re idealistic, rational and moralistic. Incredible decision makers. Your basic drive is for integrity and balance. You value honesty and truth and get frustrated when people are deceitful. Your sister might be a two, perhaps with a nine wing.”
I leaned in closer, resting my arm along the back of the couch, fascinated by how she saw me. I knew she was presenting the positives of a “one,” as she called it, and that there were likely various negatives, but I decided to bask in the compliment for now. “And what would a two with a nine wing be?”
“Twos are helpers; nines are peacemakers.”
“You’ve determined all this from the short time you’ve spent with Maggie?”
“Well, the first time I met her was the day I came to your office to tell you about our parents. My leg had been bothering me, so I needed to use my cane to go down the stairs when I was leaving. Remember the lift was broken? Maggie happened upon me and offered her assistance. It was one of those rare occasions where someone offering me help didn’t get my back up, which makes me suspect she’s a natural helper. There’s no ego involved. Is she the type to take care of others before tending to her own needs?”
“You know what? That does pretty much sum her up,” I replied, impressed by how well she’d read my sister. “She has four younger half-siblings, and I swear she spends more of her time and energy on them than she does herself. It’s impossible to convince her to take some time out and just relax.”
“She’s also good at smoothing over possible tension during conversations. I noticed that this morning, which makes me think she has some enneagram nine in her.”
“And what are you?” I went on, interested to know how she categorised herself.
“Oh, I’m a six,” she replied like I should understand what that meant. I arched an eyebrow and motioned for her to continue. Ada blew a strand of hair out of her face, her expression thoughtful. “Sixes are loyalists driven by safety and security. We don’t like to be alone, and we need support networks. We’re also super anxious worriers, which can hold us back a lot.”
“You’re loyal?”
She nodded. “Once I form an attachment with someone, I’m completely committed, even when warning signs show up. It’s why in all my relationships I’m the one being broken up with and not the other way around.” If that were true, then her past partners were idiots as far as I was concerned. Ada frowned then, looking like she regretted revealing that as she drank more wine. I topped up her glass, enjoying her candour. I didn’t want her to close herself off just yet.
“Hmm, perhaps I have some six in me, too.”
She tilted her head in curiosity. “How so?”
“Well, not so much anymore, but when I was younger, I was broken up with a few times, whereas I was the partner who was always prepared to go down with the sinking ship. I hated the idea of being alone.” Guess I inherited that trait from Mam. It took years for me to be comfortable on my own, realising that confidence and independence led to freedom. Then for a long time, I told myself I didn’t need anyone else, but I still grew lonely, felt a nagging sense that something was missing. A yearning for the person who would complete the great life I’d built, perhaps.
“Really? I can’t see that at all. You seem like the sort of person who, when things aren’t working out, you put a logical stop to them.”
“I am now, but like I said, I wasn’t when I was young.”
“How many times were you broken up with?”
I pressed my lips together. “Three. The last time was the most brutal.”
Without asking permission, Ada slid off her shoes and scooted back to get more comfortable. I didn’t mind. Some part of me enjoyed her relaxing in my space. Having her there made the place feel warmer somehow. “Why is that?”
I cast her a long-suffering look and decided to return her candidness with a little of my own. “Because it happened while I was standing at the altar about to get married.”
Her eyes flared wide. If she’d taken any wine at that moment, I was certain she’d have spat it out. “What?! Okay, I need to hear more.”
I cast my mind back to that younger version of myself. I felt only a tendril of the humiliation that was so all-consuming at the time. Now it was a mere spectre of a memory, no longer the painful thing it once was. “Darcy and I got together when I was twenty-five, and she was twenty-three. A few years later, I proposed. Little did I know, at the same time, she was conducting an affair with a neighbour of ours from down the street and had been for quite a while.”
“Oh my goodness, Jonathan. That’s awful.” She reached out to touch my forearm, and the heat of her palm felt pleasant.
I shrugged. “I don’t entirely blame her for cheating. I was a workaholic, much more so than I am now. I was building my business, and that took all my focus. She felt neglected and started looking elsewhere.”
“I’m so sorry,” Ada said, her brown eyes sad like shining dark pools. “But she dumped you at the altar? That’s reprehensible. Why couldn’t she just … I don’t know, tell you privately before letting things progress to the point where you were standing in the chapel?”
“Ah, that’s where the spite came into it. She resented me for not cherishing her as she felt she had the right to be cherished. I’d wounded her vanity and her pride, so she set out for revenge, and revenge she got. I was thoroughly humiliated in front of all our friends and family.”
“Ugh, she must’ve been an enneagram three,” Ada muttered, looking angered on my behalf, which was somewhat adorable.
“Yeah?”
“Threes are driven by vanity and need others to affirm their worth. They enjoy attention above all, love to be admired and thrive on impressing people. Supposedly, a high number of serial killers are threes,” she went on, shooting me a pointed look, and I chuckled.
“Well, I don’t think Darcy was a serial killer, but you might be onto something with the other parts. I guess it never would’ve worked out between us in the end.”
“Don’t be so sure. With the right dynamic, ones and threes can be power couples because they’re both highly ambitious and driven.”
“Too late for that, I’m afraid. The last I heard, Darcy married a college professor. They have two kids and live in a very nice house in Wicklow.”
“In that case, I hope he gives her lots of attention and praise so she doesn’t go seeking it elsewhere. Whatever happened to the neighbour?”
“His wife left him. He and Darcy only lasted about six months after the breakup.”
“So, it wasn’t even worth it in the end, and he ruined his marriage. It’s both their losses.”
I nodded, my attention going out the window at the city lights twinkling in the distance before I brought my focus back to Ada.
“Tell me, if a one and a three make a power couple, what does a one and a six make?”
The question caused a slight intake of breath. She gulped more wine, a rosy tint staining her cheeks as she swallowed thickly. “Well, let me think. It’s been a while since I studied all this.” I sat back and waited, enjoying how I’d frazzled her equilibrium. She appeared distracted by the question of how we’d fare in a relationship. How I wished to crack open her skull and read her thoughts.
Again, what was I playing at? I’d already determined I wasn’t in the right headspace to be with anyone. It was why I’d ended things with Lissa. But with Ada, I just couldn’t resist pushing, prodding, seeking more from her. I already knew she was under my skin, but judging by how she reacted to my question, I suspected I was a little bit under hers, too.
“As far as I can remember, ones and sixes are alike in many ways. They’re hard workers with a strong sense of duty, which can be a strength in a couple. Because ones tend to be clear thinkers, they can be a guiding force for the six, who isn’t as confident during decision-making. They can run into trouble when life stresses come about, and the one becomes more critical of their six partner, feeling like they aren’t working as hard, and in turn, the six can become insecure and emotional in response to the criticism.”
“And if the one is old and wise enough to know when to reign in their criticism of the six, what then? Could the relationship work?”
Ada stared at the glass of wine in her hand, not meeting my gaze when she murmured, “I suppose it could in that respect, yes.”
“Interesting,” I said, smiling around a sip of wine.
Her eyes flickered to me, some kind of indecision there before she blurted, “Listen, Jonathan, we should maybe discuss what happened last night. I have no idea if you kissed me because you were drunk or—”
“I kissed you?” I questioned, feigning shock and enjoying the ruby flush to her cheeks, how it highlighted the faint freckles scattered there.
“What? Yes, you … I thought you remembered.” The crinkle that formed between her eyebrows was too cute.
I chuckled low. “Relax, Ada, I’m teasing you. Of course, I remember.” My gaze lowered hotly to her mouth as I quietly whispered, “How could I forget such sweet lips?”
Her throat moved as she swallowed, her eyes focused intently on her wine glass as she dealt with some internal conflict. “I should’ve put a stop to it sooner.”
I tilted my head. “Why?”
“Well, for one you were drunk and couldn’t properly consent.”
“Right, but I was also the aggressor so—”
“Still, I shouldn’t have…” Her words fell off, a deep ridge forming between her eyebrows. “I won’t lie and pretend I didn’t enjoy kissing you, Jonathan.” Her beautiful, seductive gaze met mine. “You’re an experienced man and can clearly tell when a woman is responding positively to you.” God, I wanted to touch her so badly. “I wouldn’t insult your intelligence in that regard, but—"
“If we’re both being forthcoming,” I cut in. “I didn’t kiss you just because I was drunk.” I leaned closer and pushed some of that silky hair over her shoulder. “I kissed you because I wanted to, and I would very much like to do it again if you’ll allow me.”
She cast me a regretful look. “I’m sorry, Jonathan, but I can’t.”
Dismay filled my gut. “Can’t or won’t?”
“I like living here, and I don’t want to jeopardize that,” she replied, avoiding the question slightly. “Whatever attraction you hold for me, I know that’s not the reason you offered me the apartment.”
“It isn’t.”
“Good. So, I hope my decision not to take things any further than they went last night doesn’t change your mind about letting me live here.” There was such vulnerability in her words I found myself clenching my fist.
“I’m not that much of a prick,” I grunted. “Of course, you can continue living here. I’ll even … Christ, I should’ve done this sooner, but I’ll have Therese draw up an official tenancy agreement. How does a year’s lease sound? I don’t want you to feel like I could kick you out at any moment. That’s not what … Fuck, Ada, I didn’t think. Forgive me.”
Her warm palm came to rest atop my hand. “That would do a lot to put my mind at ease, but I still don’t think it’s a good idea for us to become involved. We’ve both just lost our parents. I fear we’d be latching onto one another as some form of coping mechanism.”
I stilled at her insight. I had considered that since I knew I liked having her around because of her connection to Mam, but that wasn’t the only reason I was drawn to her. Ada was enchanting all on her own. She had an energy, a way of being that called to me. When we were in the same room, I could hardly keep my eyes off her, unable to resist drinking her in. But it was clear she wasn’t ready to hear that I had feelings for her.
“You might be right,” I lied, tucking those feelings away in a drawer and turning the key. “And I thought as a ‘one,’ I was supposed to be the logical thinker.”
Her expression softened. “Perhaps you’re more of a six than I gave you credit for.”
“Perhaps.”
“Friends?” Ada asked, her expression tentative.
I lifted my wine glass and clinked it with hers. “Of course.”
We stayed like that for a long few moments. My cock wasn’t enthused about being relegated to the friend zone, but I refused to push her into territory she either didn’t want or wasn’t ready for. Besides, becoming involved at this very moment in time was a recipe for disaster. I hadn’t even had my first session with the grief counsellor yet. For all I knew, it could take months for me to mentally recover from Mam’s death, years even, and I refused to saddle Ada with whatever tangled web lay inside me. It was something I had to tackle on my own.
“I should get to bed. I’m exhausted,” Ada said then, breaking the quiet we’d been sitting in.
“I’ll walk you to your door.”
She nodded, and I followed her out. When she crossed the hall and approached her door, she turned back, “Thanks for being so great. I … I honestly had no idea what a good person you’d turn out to be.”
Her words had too many feelings clogging my throat. When was the last time anyone called me a good person? I knew Maggie thought I was good deep down. Therese, too. But did anyone else think that of me? I was pretty sure most of the people who worked for me feared and respected me, but that was all. Unable to respond, I simply dipped my head in goodnight and returned to my apartment.
***
The next week and a half passed in a predictable fashion. Ada and I shared journeys to and from work each day. She was still saving money to have her car fixed, and it took all my restraint not to seize control of the situation and have it repaired myself. Hell, it took all my restraint not to buy her a new car. I could certainly afford it, and her old Yaris had seen better days. I didn’t enjoy the thought of her driving around in that thing.
My attraction to her hadn’t faded at all. Troublingly, it had only grown stronger. I found myself distracted often on our journeys, staring at her profile as she watched the city pass by out the window instead of working as I normally would. It was the whole reason I employed a driver instead of driving myself. I used the time to get important things done, but that wasn’t happening with Ada sitting next to me.
“Are you looking at art?” she asked midway through one of our morning commutes. My laptop was open in front of me, and I was looking at an email Maggie had sent containing pictures of Shay’s recent exhibition.
“Yes, it’s Maggie’s husband’s,” I replied. “He has a day job, but he’s also an artist on the side who sometimes sells his work at exhibitions.”
She scooted closer to take a look, her perfume whispering across my senses. “Oh, his style looks familiar,” she said, her brow scrunching as she stared at the picture I had up. “Ah! Now I remember. Don’t you have one of his paintings hanging in the lobby at your firm?”
I smiled at her. “That’s right. I bought that one a couple months ago. It’s my favourite of his.”
“I love it, too. It’s very evocative. It reminds me of my dad.”
I frowned. “How? It’s a landscape.”
“Well, Dad loved reading classic novels. Wuthering Heights was a favourite of his, and the landscape reminds me of the Yorkshire Moors.”
I studied her, the way her eyes lit up as she spoke of the painting, and was struck with the sudden urge to offer it to her. What was wrong with me? This woman had such a hold on me that I wanted to give her everything she might possibly enjoy. Or maybe I just understood her grief, the bittersweet sadness when you came across something that reminded you of the person you lost.
“Now that you mention it, I do see the resemblance,” I replied and continued to click through the pictures, allowing Ada to admire them alongside me while resisting the need to lean closer and inhale her scent.
On the Wednesday of the second week after our heart to heart in my apartment, I received a text from her.
Ada: I forgot to mention it this morning, but could you let Ben know he doesn’t need to pick me up this evening? I’m going out.
Her message piqued my interest.
Jonathan: Going out where?
Ada: Just the pub quiz again with a couple coworkers. We go every fortnight.
Jonathan: Sounds like fun.
Ada: Don’t tease. I know a pub quiz is the last thing you’d find fun.
Jonathan: And how would you know? I actually love quizzes. I can be very competitive, and I have an extensive pool of general knowledge.
What the hell was I doing? Was I angling for a bloody invite? Yes, it appeared I was. I’d become so desperate for her, my stifled desire so stark, that I’d suffer competing in a lowly pub quiz if it meant spending more time with her.
Ada: Well, just don’t forget to let Ben know. I don’t want him driving all the way out here unnecessarily.
Jonathan: Which pub is the quiz being held in?
Ada: Why?...
Jonathan: Like I said, I LOVE quizzes. I might stop by.
Ada: Don’t. Everyone at Pinebrook is already way too curious about you. They’ll lose their minds if you show up for quiz night.
Jonathan: It’s settled, then. I’m coming.
Ada: Jonathan!
Jonathan: See you tonight. Don’t forget to text me the address. X.