“I actually work as an assistant for an event planner. She’s a highly desired planner, so I stay busy with whatever she needs. I had to plan a full year in advance to take time off for this trip.”
I think back to the look on Stacy’s face when I quietly coughed into my hand near her desk. She lifted one perfectly shaped eyebrow at me and batted her fake lashes until I spoke up and asked. She acted like I was asking her for the money to take the trip as well. In three years, I had never taken a single vacation.
“And that’s what makes you happy?” Alma’s voice pitches just a little, but I feel the question as if she had yelled it into a quiet room.
Am I happy?
Alma swallows and continues. I must have looked confused because she clarifies.
“You know… as in… does it satisfy you? It’s what you’ve always wanted to do?”
What I’ve always wanted to do? No, not even close. I wanted to be an artist, but for that, I needed the ability to actually create art, which I didn’t have. Photography was the next best thing. It was what pushed me in college and what drove me to find jobs, but after a while, I needed something to pay the bills. Photography in Los Angeles wasn’t doing it. So, I applied as Stacy’s assistant, and I’ve been stuck there ever since.
I smile and try to hide the avalanche of panic happening behind my forehead. I dip my neck a bit, letting my bangs fall over my eyes. Damnit. I haven’t been this reflective since I was a camp counselor for an eighth-grade field trip. I needed air and space and time to think about the fact I had new people in my life—Mason and Alma. Stacy was like a buzzing firefly in the back of my mind—visible but not keeping my attention enough to care or worry about her existence.
Alma’s worried stare is enough to push me over the edge. She gently drops her spoon and leans in close to whisper.
“If it’s not what you love, then it isn’t worth the time it takes from your life. You must follow your mind, not your heart, it will lead you to a swampy creek. Not your gut because it’s likely just stomach acid. Not your feet because they’ll stumble into a shuck. But your head… it will guide you with sense. It will lead you to the right place.”
Mason
SYNCHRONICITY.
I’m not sure why the word pops into my head at this particular moment, but it does, in fact, perfectly explain how I’m feeling. When I was in my last year of University, I had taken a psychology class. Having completed all the necessary courses to achieve my accounting degree, psychology was one of the last courses I was required to take to graduate.
I’m sitting on a large, grey rock in Alma’s front yard. Taking a deep breath, I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees, staring at the bright green grass beneath my feet. It’s funny because as I keep my focus on the blades beneath my feet, I think about how it looks like my mother’s grass. The thing is, I know it isn’t my mother’s grass, but how could you really tell the difference unless you took a step back and looked at the whole picture?
As I study each blade, I’m reminded of synchronicity and the psychologist, Carl Jung, who had come up with this theory. He believed life was not a series of random events, rather an expression of a deeper order. This order was the culmination of more than just mere coincidences, but the universe showing you its greater plan. Almost as if these series of coincidental events was the plan all along.
I flex my hand, feeling the tense, bruised muscle retract beneath my skin. I laugh to myself, thinking back to all the moments that have led up to this one right now. The one where I’m sitting on a giant rock in front of Alma’s house. Fucking Carl Jung and his theories.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Sitting up, I look over my shoulder to find Charlotte walking toward me across Alma‘s small yard.
“Hey,” I sigh.
She gives me a closed-mouth smile in response as her feet brush against the green grass with every step. The warm breeze blows against her long, chestnut hair, exposing the creamy skin of her shoulders. I stare at her skin and the all too familiar twinge in the bottom of my stomach flutters as I’m reminded of last night… and this morning. How my mouth has explored every inch of that creamy smooth skin she so proudly displays. It’s as if she does it to tease me—like the tank top and shorts she wore to bed last night.
It’s now dark out, but the small lantern on Alma’s front porch shines just bright enough, I can make out Charlotte’s features. I scoot over and allow her space to sit beside me on the rock. She smiles and slides her arm under mine, gripping my bicep with her slim, delicate fingers. Turning her face toward me, she gives me a small smile before dropping her head on my shoulder with a happy sigh. We sit together, staring at the rolling green hills in front of us, the starry night sky hanging heavily above us.
“Actually,” I say, answering her question, “I was thinking about you.”
“Really?” she drags out, amused.
Planting a kiss on top of her head, I smile.
“I was. I was thinking about all that’s happened since I met you.”
“It’s weird, right?”
“It is,” I smile although I know she can’t see me.
“You weren’t supposed to agree with me, Mase.” She playfully taps my arm.
“Mase?” I chuckle. “I don’t think you’ve ever called me that before. Come to think of it, no one ever has.”
“Well, you call me Char,” she shrugs. Resting her chin on my shoulder, she looks up at me with hooded, lazy eyes. The corner of her mouth curls into a small smile, and I melt all over again.
“I heard Sam call you that the day we got here,” I tell her. “I liked it.”
“I like hearing you say it,” she grins. “And those other words you call me.”
“Other words?”
“Yeah.” Her eyebrows furrow, and her eyes narrow in thought. “Aw…” Her jaw drops as she tries to say the word in Irish. “Aw-win?”
“Álainn.”
Her eyes spread wide open. “That’s it. Álainn. And what was the other one?”
“Mianach.”
“Yes, that’s the one. What do they mean?”
I close my eyes and sigh. It’s not that I don’t want to tell her, or they’re bad words, I just feel, until now, they’ve been a secret I’ve kept for myself. Something only I knew. But as her gorgeous sleepy eyes stay focused on me, I decide to tell her.
“Álainn means beautiful.” I think back to the first time I said it to her. Back when we had spent our first day together. The day when I realized she didn’t annoy me as much as I thought.
Her face warms and her eyes shine against the stars hanging above us. I can tell sleep is slowly overtaking her.
“Really?” she whispers. “And the other word? Mianach.”
Smirking, I shake my head and look up at the stars. I close my eyes. My heart thrums beneath my chest. I’ve never once used the word for another woman before. Only Charlotte.
Only. Charlotte.
“Mine,” I breathe out, barely above a whisper.
Charlotte sits up and pulls away from me, tipping her head with her hair brushed to the side, resting against her shoulder.
“What did you say?”
Her eyes are now wide spread and glassy. From what I’m able to tell in the shadows, her eyes are hesitant, unsure whether she heard me correctly.
I clear my throat and lean back on my hands, my damp fingers digging into the rough surface of the rock. I pause, attempting to calm my nerves.
“Mine,” I repeat. My heart beats faster if it’s possible.
Her eyes dance across my face, studying me. I study her back—from her near frightened eyes to the way her throat dips as she swallows.
I tilt my head to the side. “Char, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“No,” she shakes her head. She reaches for my hand and holds it between us. “It’s not that, Mase. I just...” Her eyes dart to the side, away from me.
“It’s fine.” I stand up, unsure of what just hap
pened. Now it’s awkward. Did I just fuck everything up? I shouldn’t have told her. I should have just made something up. I could have told her it meant sweet or honey. I don’t know any other word that would have prevented the reaction she’s giving me now.
I rake my fingers through my hair and slowly take a few steps forward, away from Charlotte and the rock. I can sense she hasn’t moved. She hasn’t come after me, and she hasn’t pushed me any further. She hasn’t said a word.
Turning around, I plant my hands on my hips and look at Charlotte. She’s still sitting on Alma’s gigantic rock, one leg crossed over the other, smoothing the fabric of her sundress over her thigh, unwilling to glance in my direction.
“Alma said I could stay with her tonight and for the rest of my trip.”
I feel my heart drop and splash into the pit of my stomach. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to remain calm. It makes sense. For one, Alma is Charlotte’s great aunt. They’re family, and from what I’ve learned from Charlotte in the days I’ve known her, she’s wanted nothing more. Hell, that’s the whole reason she came to Ireland, in the first place. I have to remind myself she didn’t come here for vacation like every other tourist. And she sure as shit didn’t come here for me. What kind of man would that make me if I were to argue with her?
“Okay,” I nod. “I’ll go home. I can bring you your stuff tomorrow.”
“Huh?” Standing up, she walks toward me. She stops in front of me and tips her head up, her eyes searching mine. “What do you mean? Don’t you want me to stay with you anymore?”
“Now, I’m confused,” I smirk.
“Alma offered for me to stay with her, but I told her I already had a place to stay.” She shrugs then raises her hand, pressing her palm against my cheek. “You can’t get rid of me that easily, Mason McConnell.”
“Oh, yeah?” Wrapping my arms around her waist, I pull her against me.
Draping her arms around my neck, she runs her fingers through my hair. Standing on her toes, she brushes her nose against mine.
“Yeah.”
Pressing my fingers into her lower back, I urge her closer when she presses her lips to mine. Her lips mold against mine, and my stomach dips once again, not like before, but because of the feeling she gives me when her body presses against mine. I slide my hands farther down her back to the top of her round bottom, pressing my fingers into her soft flesh. Moaning against me, she parts her lips, allowing my tongue to slide against hers, the taste of Peppermint tea lingering on her mouth.
Pulling away, she keeps her hands wrapped around the back of my head, her fingers woven through my hair.
“Mase,” she whispers into the dark. I can tell sleep is beginning to overtake her as it had earlier. Her eyes roam over me lazily.
“We can stay here tonight, if you like,” I offer.
Grinning, she places another kiss on my lips.
“Are you sure? We can go back home if you don’t feel comfortable.”
I ignore the way she referred to my parents’ place as home.
“Alma is your family. You should stay with her at least one night.”
“Okay,” she says. “But one more thing before we go back in.”
I keep one hand pressed to her back, my other hand running my fingers through the hair at the side of her face, feeling the silky strands dance across my fingertips.
“What is it?”
“Say that word in Irish again. The one you called me before.”
“Álainn,” I say, my chest warming as the word passes my lips.
“No,” she smirks. “The other one.”
My pulse races as she stands on her toes, bringing her mouth just in front of my ear.
“Mianach, was it?”
Her hot breath dances against my ear, and I grow hard for her. Something about the combination of her American accent mingled with the delicate sound of her voice stirs excitement within me. I’ve never heard Irish sound sexier.
Bending slightly, I reach one arm around her legs and the other around her waist, lifting her into my arms. She wraps her arms around my neck, resting her head against my chest. I make my way through Alma’s front yard, leaving the gigantic rock and bright stars behind.
“Let’s go to bed, álainn, mianach.”
***
I wake up the next morning in Alma’s guest bedroom. Charlotte isn’t lying beside me, but I can hear her voice coming from the hallway. After putting on my jeans and t-shirt from yesterday, I saunter out to the living room to find Charlotte and Alma in the kitchen. Charlotte’s leaning against the counter, dressed in the same dress as yesterday and looks just as beautiful. Her hair is braided off to the side, the same way it was the day we met. She smiles the moment she sees me emerging from the hallway as does Alma.
“Good morning, ladies.” I plant a kiss on Alma’s cheek before giving Charlotte a quick peck on her lips.
“Good morning, lad,” Alma beams. “I trust you slept well.”
“Yes,” I laugh. “Much better than the small bed in my parents’ attic.”
“Aye,” Alma replies, turning to pour me a cup of tea. She hands me the steaming cup, and I bring the hot liquid to my lips, relishing its warmth.
“What kind of adventures do you both have planned for today?” Alma asks, slowly walking across the kitchen, opening her small white refrigerator. She pulls out a carton of cream and pours some into her empty cup before adding the hot tea.
I turn to Charlotte, and motion toward her, leaving her the opportunity to answer.
“Whatever this one would like.”
Charlotte takes a deep breath, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Actually, I’m leaving that up to you, Mase. I haven’t seen too many sights since I got here, just the Cliffs, of course, but I was hoping you could show me around.”
“Really?” I ask, arching an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” she giggles. “Is that so hard to believe? I am an American after all. I want to see all the sights.”
“Oh, Charlotte, my dear.” Alma walks past us, stopping just long enough to cup Charlotte’s cheek. “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”
Charlotte smiles at her great-aunt in response.
I shake my head and smile. “Okay, whatever you want.”
Alma leaves Charlotte and me standing in the kitchen, sitting at the small white breakfast table, eyeing us over her cup of tea.
“Spend some time with your laddie, my dear. I’m not going anywhere. Just be sure to set aside a wee bit of time for your old great-aunt over here.”
“Alma,” Charlotte replies, laughing under her breath. “I wouldn’t dream of not spending another moment of my trip with you. Of course, I’ll come back.”
“Perfect,” Alma grins. “Now, you both get out of here and have your fun.”
Four hours later, we’re sitting outside the Ennis Friary, an abandoned church dating back to the sixteenth century. Our stomachs are filled with the best fish and chips and whiskey Ennis has to offer. After taking her to my favorite pub in town, I almost took her back to the Cliffs. Charlotte had requested I take her to my favorite places I felt she must see during her time here in Ireland, and despite having gone there before, I couldn’t argue the Cliffs were definitely my favorite place. But seeing as we had been there only two days before, I felt I should take her to my second favorite spot, Ennis Friary. We’re walking through the abandoned hallways of the church, Charlotte continually looking around in fascination.
“Thank you for taking me here, Mase,” she beams.
I clutch onto her hand, her fingers threaded through mine.
“Next to the Cliffs, this is my favorite place. It’s so peaceful. I love its history.”
We reach the courtyard, and Charlotte slowly releases my hand. She spots a statue carved into one of the stone walls and walks over, studying it from several feet away.
I stay back, allowing her the time she needs to take it all in. This is what Ireland is all about, and deep inside, I can
feel myself missing this place. The feeling soon passes when Charlotte’s voice fills the wide, open space between us.
“I can’t get over the beauty of this place.” She continues to circle the courtyard, stopping to read and examine each plaque lining the yard.
I watch her in silence, thinking about the kind of person she is—strong, resilient, and irritatingly stubborn. Ever since the moment I met her, I’ve seen the fire in her spirit. She carries it with her, wearing her heart on her sleeve.
These thoughts lead me to Kyle. Fucking Kyle, again. There are still so many unanswered questions, and it makes me realize I never asked her how the break-up with him went, only asked if she still loved him. The longer I watch Charlotte circle the courtyard, the more I realize how much it’s bothering me. It’s as if I can feel it rising in my throat like acid boiling up, searing the lining of my esophagus. It’s a nagging, irritating pain I can no longer ignore. If we’re going to take steps toward figuring out whatever this is between us, I need to know.
“Charlotte?”
“Hmmm?” Breaking her eyes away from one of the plaques, she glances over her shoulder before turning completely around.
“I need to ask you about something that’s been on my mind.”
“Okay.” Briskly crossing the space between us, she plants a kiss on my lips, then takes a step back.
I hold on to her hand and squeeze it.
“This is probably not the time to ask, but I have to know.” I release a heavy, resolving sigh and rake my fingers through my hair.
“What is it?” Her expectant waiting face stares up at me with worry.
“Well,” I sigh again, forcing myself to speak the words. “You never told me how the conversation went with Kyle.”
“What?”
“I know you told me you don’t love him anymore, but I just wanted to know how he took you leaving him. How did he take you breaking up with him?” I think back to the picture Sam sent me, the image still burned and etched into my brain like a tattoo. I know I haven’t told Charlotte about it, keeping my word to Sam I wouldn’t, but I can’t bring myself to tell her he was seeing the same woman as before. I guess I’m a glutton for punishment.
What are the Chances Page 13