Page 83 of Twist of Fate
She laughs, noticing the emotion in my eyes. “Duly noted.”
After another round and a dozen solid proposal ideas under her belt, we headed to the register to settle up.
“I’m going to run to the restroom. If you reach the front of the line before I return, I’ll give you cash for my share.”
She waves me off. “Just go. You can owe me for next time,” she tells me. Then she adds, “And it’s the toilet, Ash. Or the jacks if you’re feeling particularly Irish.”
I roll my eyes as her laughter echoes through the crowd. I’m nearly at the back when I see him. I come to an abrupt halt. Ice spreads through my veins.
He is not alone.
It’s been weeks since he confronted me in the restroom. Weeks since he told me about his father and the reason he’s avoided me since our bus tour two years ago. We’ve barely seen or spoken to each other since then, reverting to our old game of dodge and weave as much as we can.
Until now.
He’s seated in a corner booth. It’s just the two of them. His large frame appears almost comical, squeezed into that tight space. Under the table, their knees nearly touch, and I feel sick to my stomach as I watch him lean in closer to hear her over the noise of the pub.
He nods, and I watch as the young blond drops her hand and covers his, squeezing it gently. He doesn’t pull away; he just stares at their linked hands as his thumb curls around hers.
Walk away, Ash.
Walk the fuck away.
Just as I’m about to turn, he looks up, and our eyes lock. At first, I swear he seems almost relieved by my sudden appearance, but then his expression shifts to something closer to horror or maybe even guilt—I’m not sure. I don’t stick around to find out. I pivot on my heels and dart back to the front of the pub, forgetting about the bathroom and Finn and his blond.
There isn’t enough air in this place.
I spot Shea, who looks equally shocked and impressed by my quick turnaround in the bathroom. Before she can say anything, I rush toward her and say, “You done? Let’s go.”
“Y-yeah.” She nods, glancing over my shoulder as if she’s checking for ghosts or axe murderers. “Sure.”
Nope, no axe murders. Just one lying ex.
They seem to follow me wherever I go.
TWENTY-THREE
Finn
PRESENT
“We begin site visits in two weeks,” Shea informs me as everyone from their group gathers in the conference room to provide an update.
I try to stay focused, but I’m running on just four hours of sleep and three cups of coffee. I can’t remember the last time I had an actual meal. This week has been hell, and it doesn’t help that the woman next to me won’t even look at me.
I should have gone after her that night at the pub.
I should have explained.
Instead, I talked myself into keeping my distance, and now our shaky relationship has turned downright turbulent.
“Lovely,” I reply, noticing she’s standing there, waiting for a response. “So how will these visits be split up?”
“Well, right now, we’re concentrating on locations within Dublin, so we’ve arranged for those to be fun nights out for the team.”
“On the company credit card,” I add.
“Well, of course.” Shea beams. “But feel free to join us since you’re paying and all.”
