“Alannah good-for-nothin’ Ryan?”
I flicked my eyes towards the door of my apartment and remained unmoving. I knew who it was, and I knew she knew I could hear her. Being pregnant amplified all her senses like a crazy mama bear even though she was only a few weeks into her second pregnancy. I held my breath and hoped she couldn’t smell my fear.
“You might as feckin’ well open up ’cause I’m not leavin’ and you can’t make me.”
I needed to remain strong. “Go away, Bronagh.”
“Not on your life, ye’spanner,” she replied swiftly.
I remained seated.
“Fine.” She sighed dramatically. “Leave your pregnant best friend out in the corridor where any Tom, Dick, or Harry could get a piece of ’er.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the corners of my lips from twitching.
“The landlord only has four tenants in the entire buildin’,” I called out. “Me and Aideen are two of them, and the other two are elderly couples on the lower floors. I’m the only person on this entire floor. The landlord isn’t in a rush to fill the apartments while most of them are still bein’ furnished, so no one is around to hear you, let alone harass you.”
My attention returned to the door when a thud sounded followed by the door rattling a little, which told me Bronagh gave it a little kick, and that action made me smile. She never had much patience, and it was beginning to show.
“Can you let me use the jacks at least?” she asked, her tone hopeful. “I won’t even look at you. I’ll go to the jacks, then I’ll come back out ’ere, close the door behind me, and we can start this argument all over again. Promise.”
At that, I laughed.
“You’re a pain in me arse, Murphy,” I grouched as I got up and walked over to the door, unlocked it, and opened it wide.
Bronagh instantly rushed by me and fled down the hallway.
“I wasn’t jokin’ about needin’ the jacks!”
With a smile still on my face, I closed the door, and walked back over to my settee. I sat down, tucked my feet under my behind, and waited for hurricane Bronagh to roll on in. Two minutes later, she returned and went off on me like clockwork.
“You’re a selfish bitch,” she said as she sat across from me. “D’ye know that?”
“I’m not makin’ you any tea for that remark.”
Bronagh snorted. “Drinkin’ tea isn’t on me to-do list, but roastin’ your arse is.”
I decided to play dumb.
“What’d I do?”
“What’d you do?” She threw me an incredulous look. “You’ve been MIA for seven days!”
“I’ve been right ’ere, and ye’know that.”
“That’s beside the point ’cause I couldn’t get in to see you no matter how much I threatened the day and night guards,” she quipped. “You haven’t answered or returned any of our calls since that shitstorm with Damien last week. We’ve all been worried sick about you. I literally puke at the thought of you now.”
I cackled. “Thanks a lot.”
“I’m not jokin’. Everythin’ with Damien was so serious. Are you okay, babe?”
I clenched my teeth at the mention of him.
“I just needed some space, Bee.”
Seven days’ worth of it, and it still wasn’t enough.
Bronagh folded her arms across her chest and stared at me. I resisted the urge to tease her because I knew she wasn’t even close to finished with roasting my arse. If I poked the bear when she was angry, I’d most definitely lose a finger or two.
“So,” I said, “is Branna still pregnant?”
“Yeah, but if she wasn’t, you’d have missed the birth of the twins.”
I licked my lower lip. “I’d have come out of hibernation if she was in labour.”
“Sure you would.”
I ignored her tone.
“I thought she was meant to be induced by now?”
“The doctor made a change in plans.”
Her abrupt answers told me she was annoyed.
“Go on,” I said with a wave of my hand. “Spit out whatever else you came all this way to say.”
She inhaled deeply, and in one huge breath, she said, “You’re shaggin’ Dante Collins, and you never once thought to enlighten me with that juicy bit of information? You’re the worst best friend anyone on planet Earth has ever had, and ye’don’t even care.”
I tried and failed not to laugh, which prompted Bronagh to grab a throw pillow and lob it at me. I caught it with a smile and snuggled it against my stomach.
“Alannah,” Bronagh said, her face the picture of seriousness. “Talk to me.”
I lost my smile. “I don’t want to, Bronagh. I just wanna be on me own for a while and forget ...”
“And forget what?”
I looked down at the pillow, and ran my fingertips over it.
“And forget Damien exists.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, and spluttered, “You don’t mean that.”
I looked her dead in the eye. “Trust me, I do.”
Her lips parted slightly.
“Alannah.”
I hurt her with my words, and my chest tightened because of it.
“I’m sorry,” I said sincerely. “I know you’re really close with ’im, but I’m cuttin’ ’im out, Bronagh.”
“Cuttin’ ’im out of what?”
“Me life.”
Bronagh reared back as if I had slapped her. “What happened ... it was just a misunderstandin’.”
“It wasn’t. It was an argument based on years’ worth of tension that finally erupted.”
My friend shook her head. “Nothin’ would have erupted if you didn’t randomly drop the I’m-shaggin’-Dante bomb in the middle of Branna’s kitchen,” she countered. “I mean, fuckin’ hell, Alannah. Did you really have to out that you’ve been seein’ someone in front of everyone when you were tellin’ Damien? It was a cold thing to do.”
My stomach churned.
“I didn’t mean to say it then,” I stressed. “I didn’t plan to say it at all. I just ... I just felt like I owed it to Damien to be honest with ’im after he asked me out for lunch.”
“Well.” Bronagh frowned. “You were honest. Brutally honest.”
“I know.”
“I still can’t wrap me head around this, though,” Bronagh said with furrowed brows. “You’re sleepin’ with Dante Collins? He is so not your type and a lot older than you are. How the hell did it even happen?”
I gritted my teeth to stop myself from calling Bronagh on her shock that someone as hot as Dante would sleep with someone as homely as me, but I held back and exhaled a deep breath.
“It’s only been goin’ on a few months.” I shrugged. “D’ye remember when I got that flat tyre a while back? Aideen told me to go to ’er da’s garage, so I went, and Dante was the one who dealt with it for me. We chatted, and I don’t know, we just clicked.”
“I can buy that.” She nodded. “I can buy that you both clicked and became friends, but fuck buddies? That is not you at all, Lana.”
Alannah.
I shrugged once more. “He sent me a text one night to see what I was doin’. I was watchin’ Netflix and invited ’im over. He accepted, and we—”
“Netflix and chilled?”
“Precisely.”
She stared at me, and I knew exactly what she was thinking.
“You think I’m not actin’ like meself, don’t you?”
A blush stained her cheeks as she nodded.
I gnawed on my lower lip. “If I tell you this, please don’t tell Aideen.”
Bronagh crossed her finger over her heart. “Not a word.”
“Dante started out as an experiment,” I said in a rushed breath.
The admission took a huge weight I didn’t realise I was carrying off my shoulders.
Bronagh’s jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”
“It’s not as bad as it sounds.”
“Please.” Bronagh waved her hand. “Explain yourself.”
Where to begin?
“Okay.” I exhaled. “So, Dante has a long list of women he has bedded, he doesn’t do long-term relationships, he is outgoin’, charmin’, ridiculously attractive, carin’, loyal to his family ... who does that remind you of?”
Bronagh blinked. “Any one of the brothers before they settled, but I’m goin’ to go with Damien since he is your centre.”
I ignored her observation of him being my centre, and focused on the mention of him.
“Bingo.”
My friend furrowed her brows. “You’re sleepin’ with Dante because he is like Damien?”
“Exactly.”
“I know there is a point to this,” Bronagh said as she rubbed her temples, “but I have pregnancy brain, so go ahead and break it down for me, babe.”
My lips twitched.
“I always blamed me age, cluelessness, and stupid hormones for gettin’ tangled up with Damien, and I wanted to prove to meself that those trivial things really were the cause for how much I liked ’im. So, when the opportunity to bed Dante arose, I jumped at it, and him, and put me theory to the test.”
“And your theory was?”
“That I could have casual no-strings-attached sex with someone like Damien and not be affected like I once was.”
Bronagh raised a brow. “And how is that workin’ out for you?”
“Quite well,” I said proudly. “I have no romantic interest in Dante; it’s purely physical.”
“Your theory won’t exactly prove anythin’, though.” Bronagh paused then said, “Well, not unless ...”
“Unless what?” I asked.
“Unless Damien is the person you bed and then walk away from.”
I froze. “That’s stupid, Bee.”
She was suggesting I have sex with the man it took me years to get over?
Are you really over him, though?
I gritted my teeth at my thoughts as my friend deadpanned.
“You just told me you’re havin’ sex with Dante Collins because he is like Damien, and you want to prove you could lay ’im and leave ’im. It’s great that you can have casual sex with Dante, but it proves nothin’ unless you lay and leave the man who is behind this theory of yours in the first place, and that, me dear friend, is Damien Slater.”
I refused to allow myself to process any of what Bronagh said.
I scowled. “I thought you said you had pregnancy brain?”
She grinned. “I have me moments.”
Have them somewhere else.
“Can we not talk about Damien?” I almost pleaded. “I really don’t want to think about ’im right now.”
Bronagh watched me. “You hurt ’im, ye’know?”
The hurt that dwelled in his eyes when I told him about Dante flashed across my mind, and I tensed.
“What are you talkin’ ’bout?” I asked, my tone clipped.
Bronagh didn’t back down. “Damien’s being tryin’ with you, Lana. Ye’know he has.”
Alannah.
“I don’t know anythin’ of the sort—”
“Keela has you drunk off your arse on video acknowledgin’ that ye’know exactly what I’m talkin’ ’bout.”
I hugged the pillow in my grasp tighter. I knew damn well that Damien was tryin’ to build something with me; I just didn’t need everyone else telling me about something I already knew. It made staying angry with him extremely hard.
“I thought you were supposed to be my friend?” I demanded of Bronagh, my gaze hard.
“I am your friend, ye’eejit,” she bit back, her own eyes narrowing. “But I’m Damien’s friend too, and instead of hidin’ out ’ere and feelin’ sorry for yourself, you should get your arse ’round to Branna and Ryder’s place and talk to Damien. You both got yourselves into this situation, and only the two of you can get yourselves out of it.”
I shoved my pillow off my lap and angrily got to my feet.
“Maybe you should leave,” I told Bronagh. “I have work to do.”
“Lana—”
“Alannah,” I snapped. “Me name is Alannah.”
“What is your problem?” Bronagh demanded. “Why do you correct everyone when they call you Lana?”
“Because Damien called me it first, and every single time someone else says it, it reminds me of ’im! Now, like I said, I have work to do.”
She stood up. “Don’t toss me aside ’cause ye’don’t like hearin’ the truth, ye’gobshite. Seven days ago, you told Damien you were ready to deal with everythin’ between you two, so what’s changed since then?”
Everything.
“Nothin’.”
“Don’t bullshit me.” Bronagh glared. “I know you better than ye’know yourself, so cut this act and talk to me.”
It was impossible to win an argument against her!
“You were there,” I said, willing myself not to get upset. “You heard ’im sayin’ he was goin’ out to ‘move on’,” I said using my fingers as air quotes around the words. “We both know what he meant by that. Don’t pretend like ye’don’t.”
He was going to “move on” between the thighs of another woman. I shouldn’t have cared about it, but I did, and I hated that.
“The farthest he got was to the Jobey where he was joined by his brothers and drank ’imself into oblivion.”
My heart slammed into my chest, and I suddenly felt sick.
“He ... he didn’t have sex with a random woman?”
Bronagh shook her head, and my heart leaped with the action.
“He drank ’imself sick and only got over his hangover three days ago. He’s ... in a bad way, and that has nothin’ to do with bein’ sick from drinkin’. He got into a fight with Dante at work as well, so that hasn’t helped matters.”
I refused to allow myself to feel any guilt, but it was difficult.
“And everyone blames me?”
She had the decency to blush. “We’re not blamin’ you; you both are the reason for your problems.”
“The only problem I have is the situation with me da. Other than that, I am perfectly—”
“Don’t you bloody dare say you’re fine,” Bronagh cut me off. “Because you’re not. Stop denyin’ shite that’s starin’ you in the face. It makes you look thick.”
I looked away from her.
“I was never in a relationship with ’im, Bronagh. It was just sex; sex that took place over six years ago. It’s not a big deal.”
“Who are you tryin’ to convince, me or yourself?”
I remained mute.
“I know you’ve a lot goin’ on with your parents and your job, but Damien is a huge part of why you’re feelin’ out of sorts.”
I sighed. “What do you want me to do, Bronagh?”
“Talk to Damien,” she replied. “That’s all I ask. Just talk to each other.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then I’ll respect your decision, but I will also tell you how dopey you would be to refuse. You can say ye’don’t care about Damien as much as you like, but your actions say differently. Look at you, you’re almost cryin’ because I’m sayin’ this.”
I hated that my eyes stung with unshed tears.
“This is so stupid,” I grumbled, and wiped my eyes before my tears had a chance to fall.
“Look,” Bronagh said, coming over and squatting before me when I sat back down. “I love you, and I want to see you happy. Whether it’s with Damien in or out of your life, but trust me, you will be plagued with what-ifs if you don’t clear the air with ’im.”
I swallowed. “I’ll ... consider speakin’ to ’im.”
Bronagh winked. “Atta girl.”
“That bein’ said,” I continued, “he couldn’t get away from me quick enough last week, so he’ll probably run when he sees me comin’ his way.”
“Probably.” She grinned. “You’ll just have to bide your time, pick your moment, and corner ’im when he least expects it.”
“He always seems to see me before I see ’im. I won’t be able to pull the wool over his watchful eyes.”
“If that happens, I’ll just text you when he is in me house, and I’ll lock the doors so he can’t leave. Simple.”
That was such a Bronagh thing to say.
I shook my head. “You’re crazy.”
“Ye’know it,” she replied and gave me a hug before she stood upright. “I’ve to get goin’. Dominic is downstairs in the car with Georgie. I told him if I couldn’t talk sense into you in fifteen minutes, then he could come up and have a turn.”
“Go.” I tittered. “Before the good lookin’ fucker appears, and I get arrested for attempted murder.”
Bronagh left my apartment, laughing as she went. When she closed the door behind her, my smile remained on my face but only for a few moments. As much as I hated to admit it, Bronagh was right. I did need to talk to Damien. I had no clue what to say to him, but a conversation had to take place, and the thought made me extremely nervous.
I stood, then went into my bedroom and changed into black leggings, a black tank top, and a blue plaid, oversized, buttoned up shirt that I rolled up to the elbows. Each item of clothing had a stain of paint, charcoal, or ink of some kind on them, and the outfit was my go-to whenever I wanted to sketch and paint. Right now, I needed to do both.
I took my easel out of my storage press and set it up. Usually, whenever I painted, it was on paper, but today, something told me I needed to paint on canvas. I didn’t have many of them. In fact, I only had six remaining from the bundle of ten that Bronagh and Nico got me for my birthday a few months ago, so I was selective about what I used them for because I didn’t have the money to replace them just yet. I grabbed the biggest one, placed it on the coffee table next to my easel, and stared at it for a little while. I mulled over what paints I wanted to use, and whether I wanted it to be in colour.
I settled on dark colours to reflect my mood.
I grabbed my pencils, then settling on my settee, I crossed my legs, placed my canvas on my lap, and got to work. I hadn’t decided on what to sketch until the second I touched the sharpened lead to the canvas. And when my hand automatically curved and drew the same pair of eyes I saw in my dreams every night, I realised I wasn’t drawing a what.
It was a who.