Page 45 of Twist of Fate
I quickly realized forcing yourself to move on doesn’t work.
After a few drunken kisses on the dance floor in a sweaty club, I left with tears in my eyes and shame in my heart.
“I don’t know, maybe?” I scoff. “Is that something a landlord needs to know? Would you like an advanced schedule? So we can avoid awkward encounters in the hallway?”
“That won’t be necessary. I don’t date,” he says, his voice surprisingly calm compared to the shrill tone I was using.
“What? Why?” A tiny spark of hope flickers in my chest, but it is quickly extinguished when I remind myself that dating doesn’t mean the guy is celibate.
He ended things, remember? He hasn’t been pinning for you this whole time, Ash. Get over yourself.
“I don’t have time, and I—” He lets out a defeated breath, pressing his palm to his forehead. “It doesn’t matter. And it doesn’t matter who you bring here. This is your flat, Aisling.” We’re back to Aisling now. Not Ash. Not darlin’. Aisling, because distance must be maintained. “I offered the flat to you because I want you to have a safe, comfortable place to call home while you work for us.”
Right, of course. Because I’m his employee.
That shouldn’t hurt, but it does.
“But if us living so close to one another makes you uncomfortable, I can help you find something else. But, please. Don’t stay in that hotel for six months.”
His words are genuine. I know, either way, he will help me find a place to stay. The smart decision would be to look elsewhere.
As far from here as possible.
Instead, I do the opposite and say, “When can I move in?”
I never said I was smart.
TWELVE
Aisling
PAST
I am in love.
Okay, let me clarify and perhaps rewind a little bit.
I am in love with a city.
Today, we left Dublin (so fucking early) and set out for the lush green countryside of Ireland. I don’t think I truly understood how beautiful this country was until we escaped the hustle and bustle of the city and made our way to our first stop of the day.
A pub, naturally.
When I first looked at the itinerary passed around the day before, I was a little confused as to why we were visiting a pub at the ass crack of dawn, but we’re in Ireland, so I let it go. When we do finally reach the small village of Athlone, however, a pub is the furthest thing from my mind.
Because there is a fucking castle in this town.
I know I have a degree in history, and this stuff shouldn’t come as a surprise to me, butoh my god, it’s an actual goddamn castle.
Sean’s Bar is cool, too, and literally spitting distance from my castle.
I mean,thecastle.
We have the entire pub to ourselves—the advantage of arriving at ten in the morning, I guess. The owner, who proudly boasts Sean’s Bar is the oldest pub in Ireland, provides us with a detailed history of the place and then promptly serves us all pints of beer and cider.
I’m not gonna lie, it feels weird drinking hard cider at eleven in the morning, but I’m trying to remind myself I’m on vacation. Also, apples are a fruit, so technically, it counts as a breakfast food.
Afterward, we’re given a little free time, so naturally, I run off to take at least three hundred pictures of the castle before my mom drags me to a different pub for lunch.
