Page 53 of Twist of Fate
“That’s a low blow, Ash.”
“Is it? I seem to recall that being the excuse you used for cheating on me, but perhaps I’m confused.”
“I can see we’re not getting anywhere tonight, so I’ll let you go.”
As I say goodbye and end the call, I can’t help but wonder if Theo Vasquez will ever truly let me go.
After all, if there’s one thing he doesn’t do, it’s lose.
FOURTEEN
Aisling
PRESENT
Although Finn said I could have the flat immediately, I chose to wait a bit and ended up moving in the following week. I needed time to pack, shop for essentials like bed linens and towels, and go through at least a couple of episodes of panic and regret first.
I mean, right across the hall? What the hell was I thinking?
But, as it turned out, my anxiety about living across from my former crush-slash-almost-boyfriend has so far proven to be somewhat unnecessary. Mainly because, after I settled in, I quickly realized that the guy was hardly ever home.
At first, I didn’t think much of it. He did run a business, right? But after about a week of no-show Finn, I started to get a little pissed. Okay, jealous might be a better word. Because where the hell was he all the time? Maybe he was just trying to spare my feelings and was, in reality, dating a slew of women.
But then, one evening, I happened to stay late at the office and ran into him in the elevator on my way out.
“You’re here late,” I commented.
“I’m always here late,” he replied.
Since then, I’ve caught him coming home around the same time every night, always dressed in his work clothes, takeaway bags dangling on one arm while his laptop rests on the other.
So, while he wasn’t lying about the dating thing, I’m not sure I feel any better because if there was one thing I noticed during my late-night peeping sessions, it’s that Finn was exhausted.
Like burning the candle at both ends, exhausted.
And I know I shouldn’t care because he’s just my boss, and he did kind of screw me over with that whole deleting my number and breaking my heart thing a few years back, but I can’t help it.
Despite all reason, I still care for him, and I have no idea what I’m supposed to do about it.
“Is this your mum?” Damien asks as he grabs a beer from my fridge. It’s been two weeks since I moved in, and I’m finally getting around to inviting all my coworkers over for a housewarming party.
“Yeah.” I smile warmly, my gaze drifting to the photo stuck behind the “Welcome to Chicago” magnet. The picture is from our trip to Ireland. The two of us stand on the foggy Cliffs of Moher, our arms tightly wrapped around each other as the wind whips our hair into a frenzy. Our smiles are broad, our eyes shining bright, without a hint of the bleak future ahead. “She loved it here. She was a first-generation American.”
“Yeah? You have family here?”
“Yeah, I mean, I guess so. My mom never really made contact, though. I don’t think my grandfather left on the best of terms. I think she worried she wouldn’t be well received.”
“That’s too bad.” He gives the pic one more glance before turning his brown eyes toward me. He seems contemplative; his expression is full of some emotion I can’t put my finger on. “She might have been surprised. They say time can heal all sorts of wounds.”
“Oh, yeah? Is that coming from experience?” I ask, realizing just how little I know about Damien Kent compared to some of my other coworkers. Shea is practically an open book. Niall doesn’t look like he could keep a secret if his life depended on it. But, Damien? Other than being head over heels for his girlfriend, there isn’t much I know about him.
“You sound like you have firsthand knowledge.”
He gives a half-shrug, leaning forward to rest his elbows on the counter. Everyone else is dressed super casual today, but Damien looks practically regal in fitted jeans and a lavender sweater that perfectly complements his cocoa-brown skin, which he probably knows. “Maybe. It might take a few more years for me, though. My battle wounds are still fresh.”
“What are you guys talking about over here?” Shea walks into the kitchen, throwing an arm around my shoulder. Her girlfriend, a short blond with freckles and a love of anime, steps up next to her. Side by side, they couldn’t be more different. Shea looks like a goth queen with her black lipstick and piercings, while Torey appears sweet in her plaid skirt and Mary Jane shoes.
“Depressing shit,” Damien says before quickly raising his beer in the air. “Let’s do something fun!”
