Page 84 of Twist of Fate
I roll my eyes, concealing the awkward feeling that always arises whenever someone refers to the company as mine. It’s not mine. Or, at least, it doesn’t feel like it because I never earned it. I’m just the bloke who happened to have the right last name when my father collapsed during a board meeting and never came back. “Just be responsible. Your goal is to assess the consumer experience, not your personal one. So, while you’re there, try to put yourself in someone else’s shoes. For those of you who have never been to these places, it might be a bit easier.”
I avoid looking at Ash and instead focus my attention on Damien, since he’s the only foreigner in the room who doesn’t want my bollocks in a blender.
“I’ve purposely avoided a lot of these places on purpose, knowing we would be headed there.”
“Brilliant.”
They begin outlining their plans—a speakeasy, an art gallery, a ghost tour. The list continues. They’ve considered everything, and I’m eager to see what they ultimately recommend for the tour package.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, but I ignore it. I prefer to seem physically present in meetings—even if I’ve mentally checked out for the day.
I sneak a glance at Ash, and she has that notebook in front of her again—the one she always brings to meetings but never uses. I don’t know why she carries it, but I find it endearing as hell.
Nora begins to ask a question about the art gallery when I feel my phone vibrating again. I reach for it, curious about who is so intent on reaching me when I see my mam’s name flash across the screen.
She never calls me during the day.
She never really calls me at all, actually.
“I need to take this,” I manage to say as I stumble out of my seat and head for the door.
“Ma.” I’ve barely made it two feet down the hallway.
“Finney.” Her voice is thin and shaky, and its sound sweeps all the air right out of my lungs. The last time I heard her say my name like that…
“Da?”
“He had another stroke.”
Another one? Can he survive another one? He barely made it through the first one.
It feels like an eternity passes before I can find my voice and ask, “Is he?—”
“He’s alive. But?—”
Alive, but for how long? My chest tightens as her words fade from my ears. I feel the phone slip from my hand. It’s just too much.
“Finn?”
It’s too fucking much.
“Shit, Finn—” Warm hands cradle my face. “Look at me.” Brilliant blue eyes lock onto mine.
“Mo chroí?” I whisper, making her breath falter.
She stares at me for a moment, then another, before leaning down to pick up the phone that slipped from my hand. She hands it to me.
Reality comes rushing back.
I glance down at the lit screen; my mom still hasn’t hung up. I can hear her faint, panicked voice calling out for me. Fuck. I nervously lick my lips, feeling like this is the worst case of déjà vu; only this time I know what to expect, and I don’t want to face it.
I begin to lift the phone to my ear, but Aisling swiftly snatches it back from my hand.
What the fuck?
“Mrs. O’Connell? Hi, this is Aisling. I’m a friend of Finn’s.” She turns her back to me and begins pacing the small hallway as she speaks to my mother. What is she saying? Why did she do that? “Yes, okay. Where?” Another pause. “Um, yes. Of course. Okay, bye.”
She turns, hands me my phone, and then gives me a warm smile. “Come on, let’s go.
