“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.
When I woke up the following morning, I had a plan. I decided to take Bronagh’s advice from yesterday and put it to the test. I wanted to talk ... but not to Damien. I had to build up to that. The person who I wanted to speak to lived eight floors above me, and as I stood outside her apartment door, I prayed she was in a good mood. I had sent her a text to let her know I wanted to speak to her, and she acknowledged the text and told me to come up to her apartment whenever I was ready.
That was five hours ago, and I was just now finding myself in front of her door. Before I could chicken out, I lifted my arm and knocked firmly on the dark wood. Dropping my arm back to my side, I began to sweat bullets.
“I’ve got it.”
The hollering voice belonged to none other than Kane Slater.
Out of all the Slater brothers, Kane was the one who I was least close to. We didn’t do a lot of talking even though we were in each other’s company a lot. It wasn’t awkward because I knew how reserved he was, but my silence wasn’t because I was reserved; it was because of a conversation I had with him when I was eighteen. He had asked me a bunch of questions about my friendship with Bronagh that didn’t sit well with me, so I called him out on it. He had since apologised, but I never forgot that conversation, and thus remained very aware whenever I was in Kane’s presence, which resulted in my silence.
I smiled politely when the door opened, and Kane gave me a welcoming nod in response.
“Alannah.”
“Kane.”
I could’ve sworn I saw his lips twitch, but I wasn’t sure, so I didn’t mention it. Instead, I scanned his face and focused on his bruised jaw, the one that Dante had mentioned he had when I spoke to him on the phone two nights ago. It looked worse than I thought it would have.
“Let me guess,” I drawled. “The other lad looks worse?”
That earned me a grin.
“They both do,” he replied, “but I can’t take credit. Date and Damien can hold their own, which resulted in them both looking worse for wear.”
I stepped inside the apartment when Kane shuffled back and gestured for me to enter.
“Just what I need,” I grumbled. “Two eejits fightin’ over somethin’ stupid.”
Kane closed the door. “You think you’re something stupid?”
I turned away from him.
“They weren’t fightin’ over me. They were fightin’ over bruised egos.” He didn’t reply, so I asked, “Where’s Aideen? I want to get this conversation over and done with as soon as possible.”
“She’s in the bedroom.”
I hesitated. “Is she decent?”
I had to ask. Aideen was engaged to a Slater brother, after all, and that meant if you didn’t announce your presence whenever you entered a house, you were sure to get an eyeful of sweaty bodies humping one another. I’d learned that the hard way a few too many times before.
Kane snorted. “She is.”
“Thanks,” I said, and without another word, I walked away from Kane and in the direction of his and Aideen’s bedroom.
I knocked on the door when I was close enough to do so.
“It’s me,” I said, though I wasn’t sure why I was announcing myself. She knew it was me because Kane sure as hell wouldn’t knock on his own bedroom door and sound his name.
“Come in,” Aideen called.
I took a breath, exhaled, then opened the door. I jumped with fright when a scream sounded, then I laughed. Jax, who was lying on the bed, looked up when he heard the door open and screamed with delight when he saw me.
“Hey, little man,” I beamed.
I stepped into the room and held my arms out to him as he was already reaching for me, his baby language in full swing. Picking him up when I was close enough to do so, I busied myself with him for a few moments. When I peeked up at Aideen, she was staring at me as Locke slept in her arms.
“How long?”
I didn’t even try to play dumb about what she was asking.
“Four months.”
Aideen absorbed this. “Not since Damien came home then?”
I shook my head. “Just the past four months.”
“Are you both together?”
“No,” I answered. “We decided we’re better at bein’ friends. I love your brother but not in a romantic way. He has been me rock these past few months, and to be honest, without the relationship we shared, I may have had a meltdown sooner than a week ago. Damien bein’ back has messed with me head this past year and a half, and Dante kept me sane just when I thought I might implode.”