Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Aisling’s heart tensed as Andy looked up. He did not look happy. But why would he when that woman was the exact same one he’d just been arguing with a few minutes ago?
She turned back to the bar, offered the barmaid a small smile.
“An ex?”
Did the barmaid refer to Aisling’s status or the angry looking woman talking to Andy now? “I don’t even know,” she admitted. An ex friend, maybe?
The barmaid nodded, and collected a small bowl and opened a fresh bag of peanuts and poured them into the bowl. Shoved it at her. “Here you go. While you decide if you want to go speak to him.”
“Oh, I don’t want to. I’m actually here on a blind date.”
“Really? Maybe I’m the one who’s blind because I don’t see anyone else.”
“Ha ha.” She snatched a few peanuts, crunched them loudly. Just as well the barmaid was in a generous mood because her jokes were terrible. “No, he’s supposed to meet me here soon. Well, a few minutes ago, now, actually. I’m sure he’s just hit some traffic or something.”
“What’s his name?”
“Drew.”
“Want me to put a call out? See if he’s here somewhere?”
“Not yet, thanks. I’d rather give it a few minutes.”
“Give it a few minutes and see if the ex gets the message and goes away, huh?”
She peeked back. Sure enough Andy was still with the woman, even if he was staring at his phone with a frown.
She swivelled back to the bar. She didn’t want to be caught staring.
“Want to order any food?”
She glanced at the time. Her date was already ten minutes late, and she kind of had been relying on this as her dinner tonight. “Maybe a bowl of curry chips.”
The hot chips drizzled with a delicious-smelling mild curry were soon served and she ate one, keeping her back to where Andy sat.
She didn’t want to speak with him. And naturally, he had to be here of all places.
It was the perfect ending to an already imperfect day at school, when she’d tried—and failed—to remember the classroom outline on her first real teaching experience.
She shivered. Ugh. Why had she thought teaching was what she was meant to do with her life? The fact that Andy was there just felt like the maraschino cherry on top of the cow-pat cake of her day.
Lord, what are You doing to me? It’s hard enough that he ignores me at school, but why do I have to see him here as well?
She propped her head in her hands, ordered another Bulmers. She didn’t want him to see her. He probably thought she was stalking him already, working at his school. Not that she’d known he’d be there.
She sighed, ate another chip, as her thoughts continued to wander. She resisted the urge to look back. That way weakness lay. And she was trying to be stronger. To trust God. Not put her faith in man. Or a man.
Emotion had to be blinked away. She must be so tired to be thinking like this.
“Well, would you look at that,” the barmaid said softly.
“Look at what?”
The barmaid pointed with her chin at where Andy sat.
Okay, fine. It would be rude to ignore her. She peeked over her shoulder. Sure enough he was alone again.
“Looks like the coast is clear now your ex’s ex has gone.”
She shook her head. “He’s welcome to her,” she said. “I’m here to meet someone else, remember?”
“That’s right. Your mystery man. Drew, wasn’t it?”
She nodded. Mystery seemed to be the word. Was he even going to come?
Her heart panged, as rejection whispered near again. What if he didn’t come? What if he’d heard something about her and decided she was too much hard work? What if—
“You’re being stupid,” she mumbled into her glass.
“Did you say something, love?”
Aisling shook her head.
But the longer she sat here, knowing Andy was sitting not ten metres away, the more she started wondering if maybe this was another of those God-given opportunities. Not to get together again of course—that would be dumb. But maybe as a way to heal the past so she could truly move on.
Which meant she could either sit here and secretly seethe, or run away. Or she could put on her big girl pants and go talk to the man like the mature adult she was trying to be.
She sighed. She was pretty sure she knew which of those three God wanted her to do. Fine, then, God. So she picked up her glass and rose from her seat, and turned.
Only to encounter a body which ended up with apple cider all over his shirt.
“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry.”
Andy coughed, the yellowish cider stain spreading across his front.
She placed a hand on his chest, noting how he stiffened.
“What are you doing?” he growled.
She instantly flung her hand away. “Clearly I’m making an awkward situation even worse.”
His lips twisted wryly, leading to a corresponding wrench in her stomach.
He must hate her. She should go. So much for being brave. “I’m truly sorry.”
He cleared his throat. “No, that’s my line.”
Her gaze swerved up to meet his.
“Ash, I’m sorry.”
“For what?” she whispered. She drew away. She would not let his physical nearness fool her into thinking he cared. Ever since that kiss he’d made it obvious he did not. And mature her would not be so foolish to fall for the charm of his scent and smile again.
“I’m sorry for not saying goodbye before.”
She turned away. Met the barmaid’s sympathetic look, that only loaded fresh emotion in her eyes. She blinked hard.
The barmaid drew closer. “Need anything, love?”
She shook her head, the lump in her throat making it hard to speak. Oh, she really needed her blind date to show. To show Andy that she wasn’t sitting here, pining for him. To show him that she was still desirable by some, even if they’d needed to be coerced into going out with her.
“Actually…” She hailed the barmaid again. “Could you maybe see if he’s here somewhere?”
“What was his name again?”
“Drew.”
Andy’s head turned.
“Do we have a Drew in the house?” the barmaid called.
“I can be a Drew if you want, love,” an old man called out.
The barmaid’s nose wrinkled. “I think not, thanks all the same, Cathal.” She glanced at Andy, still standing too close, then back at Aisling and said with a low voice, “I’m sorry, love. Looks like you’ve been stood up.”
Fresh awkwardness swathed her in discomfort. Rejection hovered close again. It was one thing for Andy to have seen her, but for him to have heard that? How embarrassing.
“Never mind,” she muttered, and drained her drink, collecting her bag and coat. Forget being mature, she had to get out of here. Before the fire in her cheeks melted her makeup and made it slide away.
“Ash?” Andy stood too. “Where are you going?”
“Away,” she muttered, unable to look at him. Forget big girl pants. Her chest was so tight she might crack a rib at any moment. Her composure felt much the same.
“Hey, who is Drew?”
“Nobody you need to worry about.”
“Ash? Please don’t go. You don’t need to run away.”
Her steps faltered, then she spun around to face him, pointing at him. “You don’t get to tell me not to run away. Not when you ran away yourself.”
“But I explained—”
“No you didn’t. Not really. You might’ve thought you explained to my mother but you never explained it properly to me.
” She blinked back angry tears. Made an effort to control her voice.
Already she could tell she was the entertainment for half the pub.
“You don’t kiss a girl and then run away, Andy. ”
“Oh, you never did that, did you, my man?” The barmaid folded her arms.
And while it was good to know Aisling had one supporter at least in the crowd, she knew much more of this and she’d be blubbering.
“Andy, did you say?” the barmaid said again. “Is that short for Andrew?”
Andy nodded, but Aisling couldn’t understand why the barmaid was going on about this. She had to get away, go home—
“Andrew. As in, Drew.”
Drew?
Aisling blinked. No. “You’re not him.”
“Not who?” Andy’s brow furrowed.
She shook her head. See, there was no point thinking about this when clearly this man was not her mystery date. She glanced at the barmaid. “Thanks.”
“I think you should wait and hear him out,” she called as Aisling hurried to the exit.
“I think I won’t ever come in here again,” she muttered, as a group of loud tourists stumbled in. Nope she wouldn’t return. Not if it meant she ran the risk of seeing him again.
Outside was dark, and she hurried to where she’d parked her car.
It had been raining before and there were large puddles on the footpath.
She dodged them. Then grew conscious of footsteps behind her.
She grabbed her keys, the largest and strongest one pointed out, as she’d learned in a self-defence class in her first year of university.
She turned suddenly, holding up her keys as a weapon.
Andy faltered, hands up. “Whoa. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“It’s too late for that,” she mumbled, before saying in a louder voice, “Go away.”
“Please Ash, I just want to talk.”
“Now you do? After ignoring me for weeks?”
His shoulders slumped. “I don’t know how many times I can apologise for that until you hear me.”
She pressed her lips together, hard. Bit down on her bottom lip until she might draw blood.
She didn’t know the answer to that, either.
How many times should a person apologise before someone believed them?
Once? Twice? Twenty? Or should they only really believe them when their actions proved their words?
Not that Andy was completely to blame. Part of her wanted to keep arguing with him, to keep pointing out his faults, but she didn’t feel like that was something she should do. Blessed were the peacemakers, and right now she only wanted war. Put it down to her red hair or her passionate personality.
She drew in a shaky breath, looked away, wiped her face. The rain might’ve passed but there was a strong mist.
“I’m really sorry, Ash. I don’t want you to cry.”
“I’m not crying,” she muttered, wiping at her eyes. Stupid mist.
He took a step closer, but she held her hand up to keep him away. “Don’t.”
“Aisling, I’m so—”
“If you say you’re sorry one more time, I won’t ever speak to you again.”
He pressed his lips together.