Chapter 41 #2
Well, Lorcan’s not here right now, and I’m done with orders.
“Thanks.” I put the cigarette between my lips and light it, inhaling deeply, feeling the silky burn all the way down into my lungs. I blow smoke slowly out of the window, watching it roll over the glass and dissipate in the open air.
“Would you have said yes to his proposal if you’d known about the marriage contract?” No judgment in her tone, just curiosity. So I take a moment to really consider it as I watch the smoke curl over my fingers.
“Yes,” I tell her honestly.
“Why?”
“Because I’ve known my entire life it was going to be him, or no one.
Men are pigs,” I confess, and she grunts her agreement.
What I don’t tell her is that I’m not so sure about him anymore, about any of this.
The lies, the secrets… they keep piling up, and the question I keep coming back to is, how well do I really know this man?
Before the last few days, we hadn’t spoken for nine years.
But I can’t think about that now. “What’s the deal between you and Ronan?”
She bristles at the question, pulling a long drag from her cigarette, and I watch the light burn brighter as she finishes it off in one pull and discards it into an ashtray in the cupholder.
“I wish I knew the answer to that. I know he likes me, but he seems to like everyone. I can’t imagine us living on different sides of the world and him keeping it in his pants, so I tell him to fuck off,” she says with a shrug.
“Ha! I can see why you’d think that,” my laugh is short as I lean against the headrest. I pause, staring at the end of my cigarette. “It’s gonna sound cheesy as fuck, but I’ve never seen Ronan act the way he does with you.”
She looks over at me, but I don’t remove my eyes from the embers slowly creating ashes between my fingers.
My mind is swimming. I just want answers.
I don’t want to stumble onto them. I want them laid out in front of me.
Saoirse doesn’t say anything else other than offering me another cigarette occasionally. I accept every time.
After another half hour or so, we pull up to a weathered stone building.
Above the door is a weathered sign with Far Darrig’s Pub painted in ornate gold lettering, hanging on iron brackets.
It looks to be closed right now, but it seems cozy.
Flower boxes with lush greenery flowing over the sides are perched underneath small paned windows.
The door is dark, with a gleaming brass handle.
Above it, an Irish flag waves in the wind.
Saoirse pulls into an alley behind the pub, hiding us and giving us an easy escape if we need it. At least she thinks the same way I do, so I don’t have to be a bossy shyte. I step out of the car, closing the door, and look up, seeing the storm clouds rolling in.
“Oi, let’s get movin’, eh?” Saoirse says as she starts to climb the iron stairs leading to a door above the pub. I run up the stairs and step into the loft. It’s quaint and inviting. It’s not overly decorated, but it has all the basics.
“Where are we sleeping?” I ask, looking and only seeing one bed in the corner of the loft.
“We can share the bed, or one of us can take the couch. I don’t bite, and as long as you won’t cuddle me in the middle of the night, I don’t mind sharing,” she says, deadly serious. I laugh and walk to the bed, lying down, hoping to catch some sleep.
“You wanna grab a bite before the bar has their usual crowd come in?” Saoirse asks, and I almost say no.
That is, until my stomach reminds me that I hadn’t eaten breakfast. I sigh and follow her down the steps back into the alley before walking to the front door of the pub.
It isn’t busy, but there is still a small crowd inside.
We find a seat in the back corner, a bit more private than the rest of the bar.
Our waitress greets us shortly after, getting our drink orders and dropping off menus.
By the time she gets back, Saoirse and I know what we want and give her the order.
We’re sitting in silence, sipping our ale, when I detect a faint, familiar smell.
My anxiety immediately skyrockets, even though I haven’t yet registered why I recognize it.
I sit up straight and look around the pub frantically.
Saoirse grabs my arm, startling me. She holds her palms up, showing me she’s not a threat.
“What’s wrong, M?”
And it hits me. It’s him. But I don’t see anyone here who could be him. I look around the bar again, trying to get a hold of myself.
“I… I don’t know. I smelled someone… someone who is supposed to be dead. I was told he was dead…” I trail off, panicking. Saoirse is standing now, scanning our surroundings, but she doesn’t know who she’s supposed to be looking for.
“Do you want to go back up to the loft?” She offers.
I don’t respond right away. I take steady breaths, bringing myself back down. It’s just someone’s cologne. He’s dead. He is dead. He isn’t here. “No… I’m fine… I’ll be fine,” I reassure her as the waitress returns with our sandwiches.
I don’t stop scanning the room the entire time we are in the pub. I eat half of my food, and take the rest of it to go. My anxiety is still high, and I try to chalk it up to exhaustion. Nothing more.
We make it back to the loft, and I opt to take a nap while Saoirse plops down on the couch to watch something on the television. I eventually drift off, waking up a couple of hours later. Saoirse is still in the same position on the couch, and I feel better than I did when we left the pub earlier.
“So, what are the plans for tonight?” I ask, standing up from the bed, stretching my limbs. She must not have realized I’d woken up until I spoke, because she jumps slightly. She recovers well by sitting up and putting her shoes on.
“I thought we could go down to the pub and have a few, then come back here and crash, if you’d like?”
“Uh, yeah. That’s fine,” I try my best to sound confident, but it falls short.
“We don’t have to, I was just—”
“No, really, it’s fine. I was in my head about… it doesn’t matter. The person… he’s dead now, so I’m fine,” I tell her, trying to convince myself, too.
She finishes tying her boots, then stands. “Well, let’s get to it, then,” she says, trying to sound pleasant, but I can tell she’s nervous.
“Lead the way, Red,” I say, and she raises a brow at me in challenge. I laugh. “Surely you’ve been called Red before with that hair of yours.”
“I didn’t say that I haven’t. I’ve just never let people I’ve just met call me that,” she says, a smirk pulling at her lips, and I lightly shove her through the loft’s door.
She laughs as she descends the stairs. It’s darker outside, and we turn the corner to walk down the alley.
The amber glow coming from the pub windows and chatter from the patrons ease my anxiety a bit.
There are people everywhere. I’ll be just fine.
We’re a few drinks deep when a bartender walks shots over to our table, and I look at Saoirse, silently asking her if she’d ordered them. She shakes her head at me, just as confused.
“We didn’t order these,” I yell loud enough for the waitress to hear. She smiles and yells back.
“They’re complementary from the owner! He gives each new visitor a shot on the house for good luck!
” I look to Saoirse, and she shrugs her shoulders.
We take the shots from her, thanking her before she wanders back to the bar to grab us new glasses of ale.
Saoirse passes off the shots to the table next to us, and the men are happy with the free booze.
We get our glasses, and about halfway through, I start to feel the alcohol. I hadn’t eaten enough today, so I’m a lightweight tonight. I nod at Saoirse, angling my head to the door, and she agrees with me. We drop cash on the table and stumble outside.
We’re almost to the end of the alley when my vision becomes fuzzy.
I turn to look at Saoirse only to see her fighting…
a man. Shit. I can only see vague outlines in the darkness, and on top of that, my vision seems to be getting worse.
I fumble for my knife, but it isn’t there.
FUCK! It’s at Declan’s. I sway, feeling unsteady on my feet.
My senses aren’t communicating with my brain. Everything sounds distant.
I look back up and freeze.
My blood runs cold. I smell it again. That horrible cologne.
It can’t be.
I’m hallucinating.
It can’t be him.
“Ahhh, the spoiled little bitch is mine once again.”
His voice slithers between my bones, and I feel like I’m going to puke. I look over my shoulder to see Saoirse hanging limp over another man's shoulder.
“You won’t get away this time,” he says, closer now, then I feel my hair being pulled. When I turn, something hard crashes into my face. My body drops to the stones below, and the last thing I remember is breathing Callum’s name and then…