Page 24 of Twist of Fate
The smell of disinfectant and rubbing alcohol assaults my senses as I enter my parents’ en suite. It has been entirely taken over by medical equipment since we moved him in. My mam sleeps in a guest suite down the hall.
My da is in the giant hospital bed with his eyes closed. His right eyelid flutters open the second I step inside, and I can’t help but feel the mixture of disappointment and guilt knowing my visit has just been extended.
The stroke affected not only his speech but also impaired much of his left side. Physical therapy has helped some. He can hold a pencil between his fingers, but forming letters is challenging. He seems to understand more as time goes on, so the doctors think it has more to do with motor function than memory.
“Hi, Da.” He gives me a slow blink and looks away. Although he can’t speak, his words are loud and clear. Yeah, I’m not too thrilled to be here either.
Let’s get this over with…
* * *
“How are you liking it?” I ask. Rian and I have settled into a cozy corner of the pub. It’s a new favorite since all the places I used to frequent were pretentious as fuck. And although I live in a swanky apartment and have a fancy job, I’m not that guy anymore.
As I lean back in the booth, the worn leather creaking beneath me and my best friend sitting across from me, I feel a bit of stress leave my body. Even with all the noise of the pub surrounding us, this place, with its dark green walls and low ceilings, soothes an ache in my chest. Or maybe it’s the lad in front of me doing that. “Is it hard to be back home after so long?”
“No,” he answers firmly, taking a sip of his ale. “It’s a relief if I’m being honest. I wasn’t cut out for it long-term.”
“Is that why you and Robyn didn’t work out?”
He gives a slow nod and leans back. “When we started talking about moving in together, she asked if I ever thought I could see myself staying there permanently. I wanted to say yes, but I just couldn’t. Seattle is great, and if I had to choose a place to settle down in the US, it would be there. But it’s not where I want to be.”
“And I’m guessing Robyn didn’t want to move here?”
“She attended university in Seattle and started working for her employer right after graduation. Her family is in Washington. It’s all she has ever known.”
“So, you just broke up, and you applied for a transfer?”
He shrugs. “There was a bit more to it than that, but it really just came down to the fact that there were too many complications. So, yeah.” He shrugs again, but this one seems almost painful, as if he’s carrying extra weight on his shoulders. “Fuck it, you know? I’m done with relationships. And women. Anyway, how’s work?” The blank expression on my face must say it all because his brow raises in alarm. Or maybe morbid curiosity. “What? What did I say?”
“Nothing.” I shake my head, staring down at my half-empty pint of Guinness. “It’s just been a crazy fucking day.” I pause before adding, “I walked into a conference room today to welcome four new hires, and Aisling Farrell was one of them.”
His eyes widen. “Aisling Farell, as intheAisling Farrell?” I nod. “Was she—” He stumbles over his words. “Did she know you were the?—?”
“The CEO?” I offer, and he nods. “Fuck, no. She was completely shocked to see me standing there.” Shocked, betrayed ,andpissed.
“And you didn’t know she was being hired?”
“What the hell do you think?” He raises his hands, feigning defeat. “I trust my staff to hire competent people. I’m not a micromanager.”
“Shit, Finn, how does that woman just keep showing up in your life?” he asks, but it feels more like a rhetorical question because who the fuck knows? At one point in my life, I thought it was sheer dumb luck that we found each other after that night in the street, but now? Torture, maybe? “What is she doing in Ireland anyway? Has she been here the whole time, or did she just come for the job?”
I had been trying to figure that out all afternoon—the reason Ash would move to Ireland. I ignored everything else on my desk this afternoon as I went over every detail in her employee file, combing through her résumé and personal data. “I think her mom died,” I finally tell him.
“Shiiit—wait, you think? You’re not sure?”
I sigh. “She was vlogging.” This is public information. It’s not technically wrong to share it with Rian. I push aside the guilt digging into my side, knowing I’d dug up all this while looking through her personal file. “She and her mom were traveling, and she shared their journeys on YouTube.” I don’t mention that it’s one of the reasons Nora hired her or that I planned to go home tonight and watch every single video since I ran out of time at the office. “About six months ago, she stopped posting, and in the comments, one of her subscribers noted that they’d messaged her, and Ash had replied that her mom was sick and they were no longer traveling.”
Rian already has his phone out. I assume he’s looking up her YouTube channel, but when he asks, “Where was Aisling from? Chicago?”
“Quincy. Why?”
“And her mom’s name was Deidre?”
“Yes. What are you doing?”
“I found her obituary.” He slides the phone over. I forgot how fucking savage he can be with a piece of technology in front of him. They don’t pay him a fortune for shits and giggles.
I look down and see the image of Aisling’s mom staring up at me.
