16. Aisling
SIXTEEN
Aisling
PRESENT
“So, who will be at this thing with us tonight?” Theo asks as he raids my fridge for probably the tenth time today. I’d forgotten how much food he can put away in a single day. It would be disgusting if I didn’t also know how much time he spends in the gym and on the field. Soccer has always been his religion.
He pulls out some leftover chicken I made for us the night before.
He’s only been here a little over twenty-four hours, but we’ve managed to pack a lot into that short time. He’s never been to Dublin, so there’s plenty to do. Since I still haven’t explored much, it was nice to have someone to explore it with. I forgot how much I enjoy it—the thrill of wandering and the excitement of discovering new places. It was one of the reasons I started my travel blog when I began traveling with my mom. At first, it was a way to validate the experience, but then it grew into something I genuinely enjoyed.
That is, until my mom got sick.
“Just my coworkers,” I say. “Oh, and maybe their significant others. Well, the ones who have them, anyway.”
“And your boss?” He hasn’t mentioned Finn once since that awkward moment in the hallway yesterday. I know exactly how it looked—me coming out of Finn’s apartment at that early hour, both of us looking like we did. I didn’t even try to deny it. Not that he asked. I just stood there, sort of shell-shocked at the sight of the two of them in front of me, and then quickly made introductions while they glared at one another.
Yeah, not awkward at all.
“He’s not really my boss,” I say, reaching for a glass in the cabinet. “Nora is my boss. Finn is…well, he’s just the CEO.” Acting CEO? I still haven’t figured out what the difference is.
“Wouldn’t that make him your boss, though?” I can hear the warning in his words loud and clear. Don’t fuck your boss, Ash.
I know it’s a bad idea. I knew it this morning when I woke up in his arms and chose to stay there to see where it led. But before Finn Larkin-O’Connell became my boss, he was just Finn. My Finn . And that makes all of this so much more complicated than just having the hots for my boss.
“I suppose. Anyway, he’s not coming,” I say, refilling my glass with tap water and taking a long gulp. “It’s just my teammates.”
He visibly relaxes and shovels a forkful of glazed chicken into his mouth. “Fuck, this is good!”
I roll my eyes. “Please, like you’re not eating gourmet food twenty-four seven now that you’re a big soccer star.”
To say it is weird seeing my ex in magazine ads and whatnot is the understatement of the year. I mean, I get it. He’s wicked talented, donates his time to charities, and with his Argentinian heritage and rock-hard body, he looks damn good on camera.
But I can’t shake the bitterness I feel knowing I was the one who stood by his side for six years, supporting that dream, only to be betrayed in the end.
He shrugs. “Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate a homemade meal from one of my favorite people.” He takes another bite, looking over at me with an expression I can’t quite read. “Remember when we moved into our first apartment and all we could find in the mountain of boxes were the coffee mugs?”
I laugh, nodding. “We were so tired, we ate cereal out of them for dinner that night.”
“Still one of the best meals I’ve ever had.”
I also remember him getting annoyed with me the next day when I overdid it and had to miss his game. “Come on, Ash. It can’t be that bad. I run five miles a day and manage just fine. Sometimes, you just have to push through the pain.”
My throat feels dry, and I turn away from his intense stare. I walk over, place my glass in the sink, and check my watch. “You almost ready to go?” I ask, needing a change of subject as he polishes off the last of his chicken.
“Yep,” he replies. “Just let me grab my jacket. You know I still can’t go anywhere without it.”
“Regret leaving all that sun yet?”
“Nah,” he says firmly. “I’m where I’m where I’m supposed to be.”
He jogs off to the guest bedroom while I search for my shoes. I wasn’t sure how this whole situation would unfold—having him stay with me—but aside from the occasional reminiscing, he’s been a perfect gentleman. Considering he basically witnessed me doing the walk of shame, I’d say it’s a clear sign that he’s matured.
I finish putting on my shoes just as he reappears in the living room. He’s changed a lot since going pro. He’s gained a lot more muscle—something I didn’t think was even possible. His style is now more polished and refined. Gone are the hoodies and joggers. In their place are designer jeans and watches that likely cost more than a car.
I take a moment to look him over and smile. This is what he has always wanted. It’s what he has dreamed about since we were kids, and even though I’m not a part of it, I’m still happy to see that he’s achieved it.
“Ready?” I ask, rising up to my feet.
He looks me up and down, taking in my slim black jeans and cropped silk blouse. “You look good, Ash. Did I mention that yet?”
“No.” I laugh. “But it’s always nice to hear. Come on, let’s go.”
He follows me to the door as I grab my keys and purse, tossing a leather jacket over my arm. We step out into the hallway, and I lock the door. A moment later, a door opens down the hall, revealing Finn.
Our eyes lock for a fleeting moment, but then he notices Theo standing behind me, and his expression turns glacier.
“Headed out?” he asks.
“We’re going out to dinner.”
His mouth twitches with amusement. “Me too.”
He has barely left the office since I moved in, but now he suddenly has time to go out to dinner. Is he going on a date?
Nope, don’t care. I do not care.
“What a coincidence,” Theo says dryly, placing his hand on my waist and giving me a gentle squeeze. Finn’s eyes narrow at the spot where he’s touching me. “But we should get going. We don’t want to be late.”
“Perhaps we should share a cab then,” Finn suggests, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Since we’re all headed to the same place.”
“What?” Theo and I say in unison.
“Oh,” Finn tilts his head and smiles. “I thought you knew. Damien and Niall invited me. They knew I was a football fan and didn’t want me to miss out on a dinner with the Theo Vasquez.”
The way he says his name sounds almost complimentary. Almost.
“Well, I wouldn’t want to deny a fan,” Theo says, reaching down to grab my hand. “Come on, Ash.”
I roll my eyes at their blatant pissing match. This is going to be a long night.