What are the Chances

by Brittany Taylor

  “All this feckin time.” He’s still shaking his head, and I’m still laughing into my hand. He looks over at me with those green eyes lit up in amusement.

  “You think this is funny, do ya?” he asks, reaching over to grab my thigh.

  I let out a loud laugh and throw my head back.

  “Mason don’t pinch me!” I scream as his hand moves up my thigh. I’m grabbing hold of his arm like it’s a life preserver in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

  “No pinching, what about tickling? Are you ticklish anywhere, Charlotte Kelley?” His voice is dripping with sex and insinuation, and it’s all I need to encourage his roaming hands.

  “Do you think I’m going to count those two questions as part of your total? Because I’m not,” I say around a husky breath that shouldn’t be as husky as it is, but Mason’s fingers have traveled further north.

  The headlights bounce off the small side garage door at Mason’s parents’ house as we pull into the driveway. He releases my leg to downshift and pull up the e-brake. I open my door and meet him at the front door.

  “You ready for this?” he gently asks as he traces my bottom lip with his finger. I let out a little sigh at his proximity.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be.” I had no idea what ‘big’ question he might have for me, but I was ready to answer it and be vulnerable with him. I just hoped he was as well.

  ***

  Mason has his laptop set up with a movie loaded and our pillows arranged comfortably behind us. I’ve showered and changed into sleep shorts and a tank top. Before climbing into bed, he sees to the guests, making sure there aren’t any issues, then follows suit.

  The idea is, once we finish our big questions, we’ll settle in for a movie. I was still stuck on the idea of a ‘ride’ after we were done with our game but wasn’t going to say anything. I wasn’t going to push him, simply enjoy my time with him.

  Mason rests next to me, barechested, wearing a pair of sleep shorts. It’s making this whole big conversation thing a little hard to focus on.

  “So, which of us is going first?” His question comes out with a lilt of nervousness.

  That’s right. He’s nervous.

  I let out a sigh and turn to face him more directly, crossing my legs and resting my hands in my lap.

  “Me,” I breathe out, holding his gaze steady. Thankfully, he doesn’t wince or shutter away, simply releases a sigh and leans further into his pillows.

  “Right, my question,” he says, staring into my eyes. “Why I left Ireland.”

  I nod, hoping to encourage his side of this discussion. Once he seems comfortable with the pillows, he looks up at the ceiling and lets out a heavy sigh.

  “After I was done with secondary school, I was on the fence about my future. I was good with numbers and planned to help my da out a bit with some business things here and there, but nothing was concrete. I was seein’ a girl named Claire at the time. We met when we were seventeen and had plans to marry and all that.” Mason shoves his hands behind his head and turns his face toward me.

  I hold my breath, waiting for him to get past this part. I hate the idea of him with another woman, hate it more than anything I’ve ever experienced. Regardless of the fact it was in the past, and they clearly are no longer together, I’m still irritational as fuck at the moment. And it has me horrifyingly aware of the fact I’m falling for Mason. Shit… maybe I’ve already fallen, and I’m face down in the mud of emotions and things I shouldn’t be feeling. I’m going to run out of air and possibly die and all I want to do is go deeper.

  “Anyway, I would work with my da while she lived at home with her parents. I tried to see her as often as I could. We talked about the future, and she knew I had plans to propose to her. I even took her ring shopping where she looked over all the gems and what not and got all excited about it. But then, once I actually got a job with my father’s company and I wasn’t just helpin’ out, things changed a bit.”

  I tied some random thread from the blanket around my finger a few times as I waited for him to continue. I hated the pain that was slowly surfacing in his eyes.

  “I wasn’t seein’ her as often as I should, I suppose. Things at home were a little off with some sickness my mum encountered, and I was staying here a lot more. I should have picked up on the fact she wasn’t comin’ round. We’d call each other, but our conversations were mostly one sided, me tryin’ to get her to talk. She was pleasant with me but distant. When I brought that up to her, she deflected and said it was just school stuff. She was doin’ online classes at University and helpin’ at a local store. So, I figured she was as busy as me.” He pauses, his eyes staring off at nothing in particular as if he’s replaying the moment so clearly in his mind, and I can nearly see it.

  “One night, I had some free time, so I snuck away. I surprised her and found her lyin’ in the arms of another.” He draws lazy circles on my knee as he opens his heart and shares all the broken pieces. Bits from this afternoon were slamming into me as I thread his story together.

  “She’d been seeing someone else for months. We’d been talkin’ about our wedding the night prior and everythin’. I remember shoutin’ and throwing things in her room, glad her family wasn’t home, totally broken inside. I loved her. Yet she couldn’t find the decency to end things with me. She was just stringing me along until she was sure her new bloke would work out.”

  Mason’s glare toward the window is severe. The pain is still there, buried deep down, and I had triggered it with my nonchalant break up with Kyle. I want to cry and shake myself for not handling this whole thing better. He likely thought there was still some string attaching me to Kyle, and that’s why he was so afraid of looking at me with anything but pain.

  I lean forward and press my lips to his, pushing into him with my apology. Still, I know it won’t be enough. Not that I knew about his past, but I wish I had. His warm hand grips my waist as he gently pushes at the fabric until he’s touching my skin. I end the kiss and press my forehead into his, ready to confess whatever he needs me to.

  “Your turn,” I whisper, wishing I had words for his painful past, but nothing I say would heal what happened to him. Nothing could break up the thick distrust he still holds toward relationships and possibly, toward women. No amount of words could change the past. I just needed to know what was in his head where I was concerned.

  Mason brushes my hair out of my face and leans up on his arm, facing me. His eyes search mine like he isn’t sure he wants to say the words resting on the tip of his tongue. Finally, he lowers his head and lets out a sigh.

  “For starters, how long is your trip?” His lazy circles continue as his expression softens a bit.

  I smile and run my fingers through his thick red strands.

  “Two weeks was how long everything was scheduled for.” I wince at my loose tongue, letting my insecurity leak through. Mason catches the slip and sits up further, gearing up for something.

  “Was?” he asks, breathless. “Are you planning on staying in Ireland?”

  His soft laugh washes over me, and I close my eyes, trying to find the words.

  “I don’t know yet. Something about this place makes me want to stay. I feel like I was meant to be here. I know that sounds crazy… but I don’t have anything waiting for me back in L.A.” I let my voice drift off a bit, not sure what I was hoping for, but some small part of me wants him to want to stay here too. It feels like a middle school crush, wanting a forever that could never be and endless amount of time that could never exist.

  He doesn’t respond, just keeps drawing invisible circles on my knee cap. My fingers tangle in his hair, and my heart beats frantically as I wait for the next portion of his question.

  “If I were to tell you I was falling for you, would it scare you away?” Mason whispers as he stares into my eyes. The soft lilt of his accent and the quietness of his question has me melting from the inside out. On instinct, without thinking about it or getting lost in my own head, I
shake my head.

  “You can’t scare me away Mason. That thing I feel here,”—I hold my hands against my chest, feeling the erratic beat beneath it—“the feeling that stirs my soul and beckons my heart, you’re a part of it. I might not be brave enough to admit everything I feel for you yet, but you doing it won’t push me away.”

  Mason’s gaze doesn’t waver as he watches me.

  Suddenly, I need more from him. I need something to seal this moment, to show him I feel it too—I’m falling but too scared to say the words or to admit the heady feeling I know is love. Instead, I creep forward and straighten my legs until I’m pushing them under the covers, my face inches from Mason’s.

  I lift my fingers to trace the bridge of his nose and the shape of his eyebrows. I want to know him, to memorize him—to keep him. I lean forward and kiss him until his hand drifts under my shirt, along my back, and pulls me closer. I push his shorts down and eagerly claim that ride he promised me.

  Mason

  IT’S FUNNY THE THINGS you remember. More importantly, it’s funny the things you forget. I don’t remember my first day of school. I don’t remember when I learned to tie my shoe. I don’t even remember when Sam and I had our first brotherly fight.

  I do, however, remember the night I found my fiancé, Claire, in bed with another man. I remember it so clearly. I remember every detail as if it’s been engrained in my mind forever, much like the picture of Kyle and his secret girlfriend.

  How is it so easy to forget the good memories, but the bad ones tend to stick around? Clinging to you like gum on the bottom of your shoe.

  For years, I picked and pried at that grotesque wad of gum stuck on the bottom of my shoe, learning to live with it every day of my life. Sometimes, I’d be reminded of that wad of gum, hearing the sound it would make as it clung to the ground, like the memories in my head resurfacing. But then, with one good yank, I’d break it free and continue on with my life, hoping it would somehow disappear.

  That’s what Claire had become—Claire and her affair.

  “You have gum on your...” Charlotte’s voice drifts off as she drags her index finger down the page. Her finger stops as she looks up at me with a smile. “Brog.”

  Smirking, I scoff and continue scraping the bottom of my converse shoe against a flat rock. I literally have a chunk of pink gum glued to the bottom of my shoe. To make my situation worse, I happened to step on the gum on the sidewalk on an unusually hot day. So, the gum is extra stringy, and for the past thirty minutes, I’ve sat with Charlotte under the tree in my mother’s garden, scraping away at the mess on the sole of my favorite shoe.

  I stop scraping long enough to look up at Charlotte who still has her nose buried in her book. I notice how the corner of her mouth curls as she reads the words, and it never fades.

  “What are ye grinnin’ about?”

  “I just,” she says, unable to tear her eyes away from her book. “I just want to learn as much as I can.”

  It’s been a perfect six days since Charlotte and I found Alma and had our day of questions. Every one of those days, we’ve driven the short distance to Alma’s for lunch. There are only three days left until Charlotte’s flight back to L.A. is scheduled to leave. I find myself, and perhaps even Charlotte, living in a state of sublime ignorance. I don’t want to face the reality of her leaving. She seems so perfectly happy here.

  She mentioned possibly staying in Ireland, turning her vacation into one of permanent residence, but she hasn’t spoken of it since, and I haven’t asked, in fear of both answers. If she chooses to go back to the States, I’m not sure where we stand. Would I ever see her again? Would we try to make our relationship work in our everyday lives? Even though I know we live in the same city, and it’s possible for us to be together, I’m not sure how much Charlotte is willing to make it work. How different will we be?

  If she chooses to stay in Ireland, I’ll undeniably never see her again. I have a life in Los Angeles. I fled the troubles of my homeland and my past, leaving it all behind, giving myself a life I could call all my own. It’s something I’m not sure I can so easily turn my back on.

  My stomach turns, thinking of the unknown. Either way, whichever Charlotte decided, I don’t know where I stand. I know, regardless of the outcome, there are still a million unanswered questions. The only thing I do know is the way I’m feeling now with her beside me, under my ma’s tree.

  My eyes dance across her still smiling face and take in the book resting in her lap. Instead of what I’ve come to learn were romance novels, she’s now switched to a book on learning Gaelic, one she found hidden buried among the seas of books on Alma’s shelves. I find it endearing and absolutely fucking sexy she wants to learn another language, especially one associated with me. She always practices the words on me, checking to make sure she’s pronouncing them right.

  “You know, we actually don’t speak Gaelic on a regular basis, Charlotte.” I grunt in frustration, my fingers growing sore from the force I’m using against the gum. I look down at my shoe once again, dropping it between my outstretched legs with a sigh. “I give up.”

  “I know,” she shrugs. “Alma said the same thing, but I want to learn everything I can.” She breaks her eyes away from her book. “I think you got most of it off.” Looking at my shoe briefly, she goes back to her book. “Glan.” She then looks back up to me, her expectant, hopeful eyes stare into mine. “Did I say that right?”

  “Yes,” I laugh. “You said it right.” My chest warms and my pulse races. She’s so undeniably fucking sexy. “But I wouldn’t say it’s really clean, more like tolerable.” Picking up my shoe, I slide it back on my foot.

  When she doesn’t respond and looks back down at her book, I think about the lingering gum still on my shoe. I begin to wonder if that shite gum is somehow a metaphor for my life and the memories still lingering in my head.

  I would be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted to tell Charlotte about the picture of Kyle. I could have told her the night we asked each other questions. I could have told her when I explained my history with Claire and my distrust of women.

  Everything is willing me to tell her. I know it’s wrong, but every time the words sit on the tip of my tongue, ready to spill out like water from a broken dam, something happens, stopping me from telling her the truth. I don’t consider my secret a lie. I consider it just that—a secret, an omission of the truth. Not that secrets are much better than lies, but considering it as such makes it a pill a bit easier to swallow.

  As the days pass, it’s become increasingly more difficult to conceal the truth. When I wake up with her in my arms, I think of that picture. When the sun catches her chestnut hair and a subtle shade of deep red peeks through her silky strands, the words lodge in my throat, choking me. And when she stands outside of Alma’s house, her feet planted on the bright green grass, I stop, unwilling to ruin her happiness.

  So, just like the remnants of gum still glued to the bottom of my shoe, I ignore them with each step I make, waiting for the next time I hear the sticky sound it makes, forcing me to remember it’s still there.

  “Oh, there they are.” Turning toward the patio door, I see Danny walking through my ma’s garden. Walking alongside him, holding his hand, is Richard.

  “Did you ever have any doubt, my darling?” Richard says. “If they aren’t out and about, they’re back here, sitting under this atrocious tree.”

  “Aye,” Danny laughs. “Or up in that room, makin’ a ruckus and tossin’ about.”

  “Ah, quit your snickerin’,” I chuckle.

  Charlotte’s cheeks blush a pale red as she closes her book, smiling at the couple as they finally meet us under the tree.

  “What are you two up to?”

  “Oh,” Richard says, releasing Danny’s hand. He crosses his arms over his chest as he looks down at us. “Danny and I just finished packing the car, so we came out here to say goodbye to ye both.”

  “What?” Charlotte stands up, brushing the dirt
off the back of her pants, then opens her arms and brings Danny in for a hug.

  I stand up too, waiting for her to pull away. Charlotte still has her arms wrapped around Danny when I turn to Richard.

  “You know you guys are paid up until tomorrow, right? Was something wrong? Did you not enjoy your stay here?”

  “No, laddie, it’s not that,” Richard frowns and shakes his head. “We had a wonderful time. But this gentleman here,” he nods toward Danny who is still wrapped up in Charlotte’s embrace, “wants to get a head start heading home. We miss our dog, Bonnie.”

  Charlotte pulls away from Danny and steps back to stand beside me. Her warm hand wraps around my bicep as she grabs my hand with her other and weaves her fingers through mine.

  “Alright. Well, I’ll speak to Sam and we can refund you the last night,” I offer.

  “No,” Danny waves me off. “Don’t worry about the money. We aren’t. Every cent we paid was worth it.”

  “It’s been a pleasure having you both stay here,” Charlotte says with a smile. “We’re sad to see you go.”

  “We are,” I agree, pulling Charlotte toward me.

  “Ah,” Danny waves us off again. “You can’t be that sad. We’ve put you out long enough. With the other couple leaving, as well as us, you get the entire house to yourselves.”

  Laughing, I wrap my arm around Charlotte and pull her into me. kiss her on the top of her head, then turn to Danny and Richard.

  “I won’t deny you’re right on that one.”

  Pulling away, Charlotte rolls her eyes. “Oh, please.” With an outstretched arm, she points toward the house. “Come on, we’ll walk you to your car.”

  ***

  After we say our final goodbyes to Danny and Richard, I take a quick shower, leaving Charlotte in the kitchen, starting a pot of tea. After stepping out of the bathroom in only a towel wrapped around my waist, I don’t find Char in our room like I had expected. Stepping into the hallway, I bypass the entry to the stairs and head toward my old room and my parents’ room. The door to my room is half open, my old Boondock Saints poster pinned to the wall visible from where I am.