Chapter 14
fourteen
AIDAN
Iagreed to have a drink with Jack after Isla’s party. I’m three fingers of whisky into the night when he brings up Lucy again. The pub’s noise is barely a buffer. Just enough to keep our conversation private, not so much that I can use it as an excuse to shut him up.
“All I’m saying,” Jack says, “is that I’ve never heard you speak about a woman, never mind look at one. Not since—”
“Are we still on this? It’s been hours.” I knock back the rest of my drink, savoring the burn as it slides down my throat.
“Hours during which you’ve checked your phone exactly seventeen times.” He raises his brows. “Did she text you?”
“No,” I grumble. What he doesn’t know is that I check my phone every couple minutes to make sure Mum hasn’t tried to reach me since she’s watching Isla right now. It has nothing to do with a woman. “We barely know each other.”
Jack signals the bartender for another round. “So, you’re telling me the pretty café owner who hand-delivered a fairy cake isn’t on your mind at all.”
The bartender slides fresh drinks in front of us. I take mine immediately, needing something to do with my hands.
“Look,” I say finally, “even if I was interested—which I’m not saying I am—it’s complicated.”
“How? You’re single.”
“I’m gone for weeks at a time, Jack. That’s not exactly relationship material. How’s that been working out for you?”
He winces in response as I swirl the amber liquid in my glass.
“And I’ve got Isla to think about.”
His expression softens. “Isla seemed to like her well enough.”
“That’s part of the problem.”
“You know what your actual problem is?”
I fight the urge to smirk. “Please, enlighten me.”
“You’ve convinced yourself that being alone is safer.” He leans in, suddenly serious. “But mate, I’ve seen you these past few years. That wall you’ve built isn’t keeping you safe. It’s just keeping you lonely.”
He thinks he’s got me figured out. Shit, maybe he does, but I’m not about to let him have that satisfaction. Loneliness isn’t something you confess out loud.
I drag a hand over my jaw, clearing my throat. “That’s one theory.”
Jack’s right, and I bloody hate it. What pisses me off even more is that I can’t stop thinking about her.
“Another theory,” I mutter, “is that you’re a pain in my arse who should mind his own damn business.”
Jack laughs, completely unfazed. “Someone’s got to look out for you. God knows you won’t do it yourself.” He pauses for a beat. “Look, I’m not saying rush into anything. Just…consider the possibility.”
I shift uncomfortably on my barstool, staring down at my glass. “You done with the lecture now?”
“For tonight. No promises about tomorrow.”
The whisky’s starting to take the edge off. My mind wanders where it isn’t supposed to, like the way Lucy’s eyes crease at the corners when she laughs, or the soft shift in her voice when she talks to Isla.
“She’s probably not interested, anyway,” I mutter, more to myself than to Jack.
He snorts. “Right. That’s why she couldn’t take her eyes off you.”
Damn him. The problem isn’t whether she’s interested or not. The problem is that I’m actually considering it. As much as I hate admitting Jack’s right, I hate even more that some part of me is starting to hope.