Chapter 6 #2
I turn my speaker on and start the "Doom and Gloom" playlist on my phone.
"Sometimes" by Ashley Singh starts to play, just loud enough for me to hear it through the open window.
I grab my book, slide the window open, and climb carefully over the side of my small balcony and out onto the roof.
There's a surprisingly cozy nook where two slopes of roof meet, and after my mother died, I'd taken to reading and hiding out there.
No one could find me, and I could be alone with my thoughts and my books.
After being so close to Callum tonight, I need a little solitude.
At first, I just sit with my arms wrapped around my knees.
I can see the Egan estate from here, and it’s part of the reason I sit out here so much.
I wonder for the millionth time whether he ever looks out over the trees toward our estate, too.
I squint through the darkness, looking for the lamplight I usually see in one of the windows, but it isn’t lit tonight.
Sometimes, I pretend that it’s him, sitting at a desk, working late.
It makes me feel less alone. Not tonight, though.
From what I can see, the Egan house is shrouded in darkness.
Where is he now? I think to myself, trying to exclude the thought of him with other women.
I take a deep breath and rest my chin on my knees, gazing up at the night sky.
The stars twinkled faintly, not nearly as bright as they would be out at our lake.
I feel a pang in my heart thinking about it.
So many memories. And it has been so long since I’ve been.
I reach for my book, propping myself against a slope. I adjust the book light, placing my finger between the pages where the metal grips are located. I run my finger over the smooth surface, tracing the grooves in the metal.
"You survived too many thunderstorms to be bothered by raindrops."
I’d never figured out who sent it. I just found it inside my apartment on my nineteenth birthday, sitting on the dining room table.
I thought Orin had given it to me, but he was adamant that it wasn't him. He said he’d found it on my doorstep the night before when he’d stepped outside for a cigarette.
The only other thing in the little green box was a handwritten note:
"The people who wound us get no say in how we clean up the blood."
I realize that my eyes are sliding back and forth over the same paragraph again and again, but I’m not comprehending it.
My mind’s a mess. Why had I said yes to that dinner with Callum?
I should have just told him to kiss my ass.
But no. I let my heart answer instead of using my head.
I needed to remember that this was just dinner between future business partners, potentially friends.
Plus, Callum promised to fill me in on what’s been going on between our families.
I can’t let my emotions get caught up like this again.
I have to remain calm, cool, and collected.
God knows people’s lives probably depend on it, especially mine.
I switch off the small light and set my book down beside me. It’s cold now. I wrap my arms around my middle and lean against my knees, looking out into the darkness. There’s a slight glow of light coming from the window at Callum’s. I wonder if he’s in there, what he’s doing.
Here’s a better thought: what am I gonna do?
I sit like that for a while, and finally, waves of exhaustion wash over me.
It had been a long night. I climb back through the window awkwardly, my joints stiff from the cold.
I close it behind me, then slide into my bed, pulling the covers to my chin.
Just as my eyes drift shut, Nessa’s ringtone blares, making me jump.
I roll over to grab my phone from the nightstand. Jesus. I have 11 missed calls and 23 texts from her. What the hell?
“Nessa, are you okay?”
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? Where have YOU been?” She says, her voice high and shrill. I cringe at the sound. “I’ve been trying to reach you all evening!”
I roll my eyes. I’m not in the mood for this shit.
“The Egans were over for dinner,” I say flatly, and she doesn’t respond. I wait for a few seconds, growing impatient.
“Nessa? You there?”
“Since when are you having dinner with the Egans? And why did you not tell me?” She sounds pissed.
I lie there staring at the ceiling, trying not to sound irritated. “Well, a lot happened this morning…” How can I even explain this? It sounds insane.
She huffs, waiting for me to continue.
“My father told me this morning that we would be having dinner with them at five, then followed it up with some cryptic talk about a united front.”
“WHAT?” Nessa yells through the phone, cutting me off. I hold it away from my ear, but I can still hear her loud and clear. “Maeve, you can’t be fucking serious! Why in the hell did you not tell me as soon as he told you? This is insane. I should have been at the dinner. I would have…”
She goes on, and on, and I just kind of… stop listening. I’m so exhausted. My eyelids feel so heavy…
“Maeve, are you even listening? Are you there?”
My eyes fly open, and I sigh deeply. “Yeah, I’m still here.”
“Then you better start talking,” she says acidly. “Why didn’t you invite me to dinner? I should have been there!”
“Can you cool it with the third degree? I’ve been… It’s been a really long day. I was going to call you in the morning and tell you everything. Oh, also, I’m gonna have to reschedule our plans for Thursday. I’m having lunch with Aisling.”
“Wait. When did your father start speaking to them again anyway? Was Callum there?”
Yeah. Great question.
“I don’t know, Ness. You know he doesn’t keep me in the loop on much of anything, clearly. And to answer your question, yes, Callum was there.”
“Maeve,” she says, her voice rising again. “You don’t have to do anything with that family. You’re a grown woman. Do you not remember what he did? He—”
Nope. I’ve had enough. The tension, the exhaustion, and the frustration all come bubbling to the surface. I fling the covers aside violently and stomp to the window, my adrenaline pumping now.
“Nessa, if I recall correctly, you were also a part of that equation,” I say levelly, cutting her off.
“If we're going down memory lane here, then let me remind you, YOU knew how I felt about him, but YOU still participated. I forgave you, but you DO NOT get to bring that night up like he was the only person in the wrong. I am grown, so I’ll be the one to make my own decisions on who I associate myself with.” Not entirely the truth, but still.
I don’t feel like explaining. “If you want to be involved in any manner, then you will cut the shit, stop trying to dictate my life, and keep your mouth and hands to yourself. You’re my cousin and my friend, so I’d appreciate it if you’d act like it. ”
I take a breath, trying to remind myself that my cousin and my best friend is, unfortunately, petty, and she has always seen the rift between our family and the Egans as fodder for gossip rather than as a serious matter.
She has next to no idea of how our world works.
We all knew that her father Liam was only a part of the family business because he'd married my father's sister, who died before Nessa was three.
Liam had never been part of the inner circle, had never quite earned my father's trust. As a result, Nessa had always had some kind of weird inferiority complex about it all.
Oh, to be blissfully naive again. I’d love to have no idea what was going on, no idea about how any of it works. In a way, I have been blissfully naive for the past ten years, but all of that is about to change.
“Well then,” she replies huffily. “You obviously need to go to bed. You're all bitchy right now.”
She hangs up before I can tear into her again. She knows she’s pushing a button. I chunk my phone across the room and watch as it hits the chair in the corner and falls to the floor.