26. Aisling
TWENTY-SIX
Aisling
PRESENT
Theo
What about next weekend for our redo? I can get theater tickets. Front row!
I sit on my bed, staring at Theo’s text.
It’s been two days since I got it. I don’t know why I’m avoiding it, or him, rather.
I haven’t had feelings for the guy in years, yet I am sitting here in my satin robe when I should be getting dressed for an evening out, stressing over whether a text is sufficient for this.
Or if this is the kind of news that necessitates a phone call.
It’s not like I owe the guy anything. We aren’t dating and yet, telling him I’m with Finn feels like a betrayal?
But that’s utter bullshit, right?
’Cause this is the guy who cheated on me and then had the audacity to insinuate it was my fault for making him feel lonely.
Yeah, okay. Definitely bullshit.
Theo is an adult. He can deal with the fact that I’ve moved on two years after we broke up.
Aisling
Sorry, Theo. I don’t think I can make it; I have plans with Finn.
I feel like I’m skating around the truth, but there’s still a part of me that hopes this supposed infatuation Theo has for me isn’t real and that he’ll be fine with?—
My phone vibrates with an almost instant reply from my ex-fiancé.
Theo
Plans? He’s your boss, Ash. Are you seeing him?
So much for hoping…
When I don’t immediately answer, it vibrates again.
Theo
Aisling. Answer me.
Is he for real right now? Rising from the bed, I refocus on getting ready and leave my phone behind. Tonight, the team is heading out for our first official site visit. We’re going to a speakeasy. It’s located beneath a fancy restaurant in a historic building, complete with a hidden door and everything. To say we’re excited is an understatement.
I mean, a freaking speakeasy. How cool is that?
I stare at my closet in complete horror. What the hell does one wear to a speakeasy? I don’t exactly have a flapper dress. A cocktail dress, maybe? Shit, what even is a cocktail dress?
Am I overthinking this? What if everyone else shows up in jeans?
“If you’re naked under that robe, we’re not going.”
I yelp in surprise at the sound of his sultry voice. Turning, I find Finn leaning against the door frame, looking fucking edible in a black suit and a crisp white shirt. No tie this time. And he’s left his shirt unbuttoned just enough that I can see the tiniest bit of black ink peeking out.
I’m convinced there’s nothing this man can’t wear—jeans, sweats, suits; it all looks good on him. He could probably slip into one of those ridiculous adult-size Batman onesies they sell during Halloween and still look one hundred percent fuckable.
My phone buzzes again, but I ignore it as he takes several purposeful steps into the room until he stands directly in front of me. I look up at him while his eyes roam over every inch of me. “Oh, we’re going,” I tell him. “The boss is footing the bill. Plus, rumor is he’s hooking up with an employee.”
He brushes a lock of hair behind my ear and grins. “Scandalous.”
“Right? Do you think they’ll?—”
My phone buzzes again, causing him to frown.
“Who’s blowing up your phone?”
I let out a sigh. “Probably Theo.”
His brows lift in alarm. “What?”
“He’s not too pleased about our happy news.”
His tongue glides over his top teeth before he says, “I’d gloat if it weren’t for the fact that he’s currently harassing you through texts. What is he saying?”
“I don’t even know. I set my phone down before I came over here to stare at my closet.”
He laughs before scanning the array of items I have shoved in there. His fingers brush over a few of the dresses before he stops on a simple black number. “This one.” He pulls it out and studies it a moment longer. It’s a wrap dress with a plunging neckline and a flowy skirt.
I’m going to have to ditch my bra, and from the way he’s grinning right now, he knows it. “All right.”
I walk over and place the dress on the bed, and just as I’m about to undo the tie on my robe, my phone vibrates again. But this time, it just keeps vibrating.
“Now he’s calling?” Finn grits out. He snatches my phone, and before I can worry about him answering and ruining our plans, he sends the call to voicemail.
But, then he sees the slew of texts.
His expression darkens. “This guy has some nerve.”
I bite my lower lip. “Are they mean?”
“Toward you?” He shakes his head. “Thankfully no, which is why he’s allowed to keep breathing. But he doesn’t like me.”
“Well, that’s not anything new,” I confess.
“Oh?”
“He’s hated you ever since I posted that picture of us in Galway.”
A wicked smile pulls at the corner of his lips. “Ah, yes. The revenge pic. When he was here last month, he tried to pretend like he barely remembered me or the photo.”
“Oh, he remembered it. Wouldn’t shut up about it.”
“Well, then maybe it’s time for another one.”
“You want to be Instagram official, Finn?” I tease.
“Darlin’, we’ve always been Instagram official.”
My heart flutters as he grabs his phone, opens the camera app, and switches it to selfie mode. With his other hand, he tugs at the collar of my robe, revealing a hint of my skin. Still holding the silky fabric, he bends down and kisses my shoulder.
Click.
I’m so captivated by the whole thing that I hardly notice he’s taken a photo, but when he pulls away and shows it to me, I nearly gasp.
It’s sexy without being graphic. The way I’m gazing down at him as if he hung the freaking moon. The reverence he appears to place in that single kiss.
“It’s beautiful,” I tell him.
“You’re beautiful,” he counters.
With a couple of taps, he posts it to his Instagram account with the one caption that seems entirely appropriate: Mo chroí.
My heart is his now. If I can just figure out a way to convince him to keep it.
* * *
Finn
I just had to pick that dress, didn’t I?
We’ve been at the super posh Speak Easy for about an hour now. I’ve never seen Ash as excited as she was when we arrived at the hidden entrance and she had to give the secret password to get in.
The woman nearly squealed in delight.
Once inside, she tried to assume a more professional role and view the experience from the perspective of a guest, but it’s been hard.
She’s having way too much fun.
Honestly, the whole team is, and I can’t blame them. This place is amazing. The drinks are classy, the live music is stellar, and the atmosphere is first rate.
Now, if the men would stop leering at my girlfriend, that would be great. Like, right now, there is a bloke at the bar who is attempting to rotate his neck a full ninety degrees just to get a look at her tits as she leans over to grab her drink.
His neck must be cramping, or he needs a drink break. Either way, he turns back toward the bar, and as he does, his eyes meet mine and widen.
I hold his gaze, and he visibly pales, taking in my height and size. Although I may not play rugby anymore, the home gym in my flat does a decent job of keeping me fit and reducing my stress level.
It’s also decent in deterring pervy men because he never looks back. Not even once.
The past two weeks have been the best and worst of my life.
Finally, I am getting to know what it feels like to wake up with Ash in my arms, enjoy a cup of coffee with her in the morning, and explore every inch of her body at night.
It’s fucking paradise.
But ever since news of my father’s second stroke went public, the board has been pressuring me to make my role in the company official. I know it’s the right move. My father will never set foot in the building, let alone be CEO again, and I’ve been doing the job for years now anyway.
But the idea of taking this final step terrifies me. I feel like I’m standing at the end of a long wooden plank, my toes curling over the edge as I gaze out at the endless sea just before someone pushes me over.
This is something I always knew would happen. Taking over the company is what I was raised to do, and while I may not have always handled the reality of it as well as I should have, I rebelled. I sought attention from the one person who never gave it to me, but in the end, I relented and took my place because there were around two hundred employees who were counting on me to follow through.
Now though…
I look over to the killer blond in the black dress, feeling my insides tighten. God, I don’t even know anymore.
Our group fills two entire tables, and for some reason, we’ve gone back to our primary school days and are separated by sex. Don’t ask me why. If it were up to me, I’d be snuggled up next to my girlfriend, trying to slip my hand under that dress.
But, for some reason, the women wanted “girl time,” so now, while they are all busy hysterically laughing over something, Niall, Damien, and Rian (because the lad invites himself to everything) are awkwardly staring at each other.
It’s like a contest to see who cracks first.
My bet is on Rian.
“So, Damien,” Rian finally says, as if he just can’t help himself. I chuckle to myself. Fucking knew it. He may be a nerd, but he’s a chatty bloke. “Your girlfriend’s a ride. Does she have any hot friends?” I said he was chatty. I never claimed he was any good at it.
To Damien’s credit, he takes it all in stride. It probably helps that Rian isn’t checking out the hot girlfriend in question, who is currently seated at the table next to us. “She grew up here,” he replies. “So, yeah. She has a decent number of friends.”
Niall jerks his head, looking shocked. “What the hell? How many times have we gone out, and you’ve never mentioned any hot friends to me?”
He shrugs. “You never asked.”
“I’m hurt, Damien. Genuinely hurt. I thought we were pals.”
“These are single friends, right?” Rian asks, acting completely oblivious to Niall’s plight.
“And by single, you mean uncomplicated?” I add. Rian has been hitting the pavement hard since he came back from Seattle. I don’t know if he’s just enjoying his freedom or simply nursing a broken heart. Either way, he’s been busy.
He nods with enthusiasm. “Yes, please. I can’t do commitment right now.” He fakes a shiver, which causes the men to laugh. “Been there, done that. Got the T-shirt.”
I wouldn’t be surprised if he did, honestly. While we’re all dressed to the nines, he’s wearing his standard graphic tee (under a suit jacket, ’cause he’s classy) that says “Stud” on it with an actual photo of a baked potato underneath.
“Not sure how Erin would feel about me pimping out her friends, but I’ll give it a shot. Got a résumé? Anything I can say to build you up? Are you a rugby player like your mate here?”
He laughs. “Do you see me?” He motions to himself. While he’s tall and fit, his body is lean and muscular, whereas mine is bulky and broad. “No, I like to run but avoid any sports that might damage the moneymaker.” He points to his head. I roll my eyes. “I’m really fucking smart.”
“Don’t forget humble,” I joke.
“What do you do?” Niall asks. At first, I think he’s sizing him up, but he genuinely seems interested. When Rian answers, his eyes widen.
“That’s impressive.” And it is, especially since I know he’s significantly downplaying his job.
What he actually does is much grander but also very hush-hush. Even I’m not entirely sure what he does, but whatever it involves, he has developed an impressive set of skills in the process.
Which reminds me. I need him to look into something for me…
My gaze drifts back to the other table. Ash seems to be in the midst of a story, as her hands dance through the air, bringing her words to life while everyone laughs.
“So, you and Aisling…”
My head snaps back, and I find three pairs of eyes staring at me. Damien and Niall wear that look that I can only imagine a big brother would have when his little sister goes on her first date.
Rian just looks like… Rian . Utterly amused.
“Are you about to ask me my intentions?” I muse, expecting them both to break. They don’t.
“She said you knew each other before?” Niall asks, taking a sip of his beer.
“We did.”
“And you had no idea she was moving here? Or that she was coming to work for O’Connell?”
Ah, I see. “You think I had something to do with hiring her?”
Damien looks at Niall, and they both shrug. Rian is still silently watching the whole exchange, not bothering to offer anything in my favor.
Arsehole.
“Well, it is all sort of odd —how she ended up working for your family business.”
I admit, it’s completely mental. But that’s been the definition of our relationship from the very beginning. I don’t know how we keep running into each other over and over, but Ash is right. We are idiots to keep ignoring it.
And I’m an even bigger idiot thinking I’m going to be able to walk away.
“Her mother’s last wish was for her to spread her ashes in Ireland,” I explain, recounting what Ash told me the other night. I drew a bath and held her as she spoke about her mother’s illness and the months after she passed away. “She thought taking a tour to remember her mom would be a good way to do that. When she went on the website to book it, she ended up on the employment page, and well?—”
“Damn,” Niall breathes out. “That’s crazy. And she had no idea you were?—”
I shake my head. “Given how I left things, I doubt she would ever step foot on an O’Connell bus again if she knew.”
“That’s bonkers.” Damien shakes his head. “I’ve heard some mad stories, but that one—” He suddenly stops, with his pint halfway to his lips, and turns to Rian. “Wait. Did you know?”
Rian just grins.
“So, when we all gathered at that pub that night, did you already know each other?”
“Not exactly,” Rian shrugs. “Ash and I had never met in person before, but we weren’t strangers. I was very much aware of her—” He pauses mid-sentence as his eyes drift to the bar where a tall redhead stands. She turns, catches him staring, and offers a coy smile. His face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning. “Excuse me, gentlemen. I think I’m needed elsewhere.” He then turns to Niall and gestures toward the woman next to her. “Looks like she has a friend. Want to join me?”
“Fuck, yes.”
I turn back to Damien and sigh. “He honestly lasted longer than I thought he would.”
“Sweet of him to take Niall under his wing.” He laughs. “That guy needs a good shag.”
I glance over just in time to see Rian and Niall hitting it off with the redhead and her friend. Rian leans against the bar while she gazes dreamily into his eyes. Though he may be a tech nerd, he has an ego and good looks. Plus, he’s rich. He’s never had trouble attracting women. Niall isn’t doing half bad either, as the brunette tilts her head back and laughs at something he said.
“Looks like he’s well on his way.”
“Cheers to that.”
“Sláinte.” We clink our glasses and laugh. I glance at Ash and meet her gaze. Her cheeks are pink from the sip of wine she indulged in. The hue reminds me of how flushed she gets when she’s panting beneath me.
And now I’m shifting in my seat. Grand.
She smirks as if she knows exactly how much she affects me.
“Hey, I’m sorry for Niall and me interrogating you earlier.”
I scoff. “You consider that an interrogation?”
“Well, we kept it a bit light. You are our boss.”
I let out a laugh. “Fair, but I appreciate it—the interrogation, I mean. Ash deserves friends who genuinely care about her and look out for her, even from me.”
“You’re a good guy, Finn.”
I don’t respond because sometimes I’m unsure. Have I done anything in my life that warrants the title? I’ve certainly done a lot of foolish, selfish shite. But good? I’m not so sure.
“You mentioned that Ash’s mom wanted her ashes scattered?”
I nod, feeling a tightness in my chest. The night she told me, she had sobbed in my arms for what felt like an eternity, and I hated myself for it. For leaving her. For not being there when she needed me.
And then I hated myself all over for knowing I’d have to do it all over again.
“Has she done it?” he asks cautiously. When I thought about how this night would go, I never imagined I’d be sitting in a speakeasy, listening to live jazz, discussing my girlfriend’s deceased mother.
“Ah, no,” I respond curtly, because I’m not entirely sure why he’s bringing this up, here of all places. “She hasn’t been in the right frame of mind, I think. And I’m not sure she’s picked out a place.”
“Sure, right.” He pauses to finish the last of his pint. After a few more moments, he finally seems to convince himself to say whatever he’s been debating. “It’s just that when I was at her house for her housewarming that night, she mentioned she had family here.”
“She does.”
“And she said she thought her mum always wanted to meet them but worried they wouldn’t want anything to do with her because of some bad blood with her father.”
I nod. “He immigrated to the States. I don’t know much beyond that.”
He shrugs. “Might be a good place to start.”
I stare at him for a moment as the uneasy feeling begins to dissipate. “You’re right,” I answer. “It’s an excellent place to start.”
In more ways than one.