“Hey mate,” he mumbles through a big bite. “This is really nice.”
“It’s nothing, no big deal.”
“You’re upping your game.”
“Trying, brother,” I say and rub a hand down my cheek.
“So, I haven’t seen you much since Halloween. Can I assume that things are going well?”
“With Juliana?”
“Yeah,” he answers, but his question made me think of my family, too. And that is the opposite of well, in my opinion.
I give him a quick nod.
“That’s all you’ve got for me?”
“Would you say more?”
“You know I wouldn’t, but you’re not me.”
That makes me laugh. “Yeah, man. It’s grand. She’s…”
“Yes?”
“Perfect. Completely perfect.”
“You’re not going to mess this up, are you?”
“God, I hope not. So far, it doesn’t seem too weird with the roommate thing. She mentioned it this morning, but only in passing.” I hope she’s not freaking out. This is the first time we’ve been apart in days, so I’m kind of worried that she’ll start to panic now that she’s away from me and this place.
“She’s got a good head on her shoulders.”
“That she does,” I say, and smile as I think of my lass.
“Have you told her that you love her?”
“Love who?” my dad asks as he joins Dylan at the doorway.
I jump to my feet. “Dad, what are you doing here?”
“You haven’t been returning my calls,” he says, and that’s a true statement. Since our confrontation, he’s been calling me every day. I haven’t been interested in hearing what he has to say.
Dylan’s eyes go wide as he looks between us and he makes his exit without saying a word.
“Can we talk?” my dad asks. He’s looking pretty good. Dressed fairly nice, clean-shaven, a haircut, even. Mam must have patched him back together.
My hands are planted on my hips. “I don’t know if I have anything more to say.”
“Hear me out, lad.”
“Fine. Come in and shut the feckin’ door.”
“Haven’t been in here in a long time,” he muses as he looks around the place.
The comment makes me cringe. It was the right decision, Grandda passing up my dad to give me the pub, but I still feel guilty about it, like I’ve stolen it from under him.
“How’s business?” he asks.
“Fair enough.”
“Saw the lunch menu. Is that you?”
“Yeah.”
“You always were a good cook.”
I don’t respond.
“Ever think about remodeling that kitchen?”
Of course I do. I think about it every day. We’re not set up to be a proper restaurant. If I ever want to achieve my dream to turn this place into a gastropub, it’s the first item on the to-do list. But he doesn’t need to know that. He doesn’t need to know anything about this place.
“You know,” he continues when I don’t respond, “I could help you with that. I could invest some of my winnings.”
I scoff at that. If I were a betting man—which I most definitely am not—I’d take the worst odds that the money would be gone before the day is over.
He goes on, “I want to do right for the Murrough legacy.”
“Right, huh?”
“Yes, lad.”
“It’s a miracle that we’ve been able to keep this pub afloat with all the times we’ve had to bail you out.”
The words have their intended effect, because everything about him sags. He looks utterly defeated.
“I’m sorry about that,” he says quietly.
“Did they teach you that apology at the Gamblers Anonymous group you most definitely don’t attend?”
“Eoghan, I’m sorry that I hit you,” he says more forcefully.
I shake my head and sit back down. I’m not going to be able to take much more of this, so I tell him that. “I’m not ready to have this conversation yet.”
“I understand. I’ll let you be for a bit. But hopefully we can talk again. I want to learn more about this woman that you love.”
Fat chance of that. If I have my way, Juliana will never come face-to-face with him.
“Mind if I nosh?” he asks.
“Shouldn’t you be working the taxi?”
“I’ll start tomorrow.”
“Whatever,” I tell him and then head for the door. “Excuse me.”
I leave my dad and the pub behind, grab my motorcycle helmet, and hit the road. I’ve got a couple hours to kill before picking up Juliana, so I decide to do some car shopping. If we’re going to go exploring properly, I think we need a car of our own, because I’m sure as hell not going to use the taxi again.
Julie
Aiden Fucking Kelly.
I was twenty minutes late to work today and he sent me an email, in the most official lingo I’ve ever seen him use, telling me that I needed to “improve my professional accountability.” He also copied HR. He actually did that. I’ve never seen anything like this at CloudSoft Solutions. It’s not in our culture to be clock watchers.
All morning long, through every conference call, and even through lunch at my desk, I glared at him. I was willing him to look my way so I could give him one of my “are you fucking kidding me” looks. This particular look would have had a perked-up eyebrow and a bunched-up mouth, but I never got to use it. Not even once.
I’m taking a little pleasure in the fact that it’s time for our one-on-one meeting and he’ll have no choice but to face me.
At three o’clock on the dot, I head to his office and plant myself at his doorway. He doesn’t acknowledge me. He just types and types and keeps on typing. I clear my throat, but that doesn’t make him react. Finally…finally he says, without looking up, “Miss Rodriguez, have a seat.”
There it is again, his formal use of my name. A very eerie feeling oozes between my ribs.
I take a seat and open my laptop, my hand shaking just a little bit as I navigate to my notes app. He’s still typing something and I just wait.
“Would you like to reschedule, Aiden?”
He types more. “No, our meeting should be brief.”
And then he types more. Unbelievable.
I’m sick of staring at him. I feel like that’s all I’ve done today and in that time, I can’t quite remember why I ever considered him attractive. He’s got a rather rough receding hairline, a soft chin, and pretty bad crow’s feet. And I never noticed just how dull his eyes are, although that might be because he’s staring endlessly at his laptop.
Finally, he clicks forcefully on his mouse and looks my way. “Update me on the Collins Group issue.”
“Everything is stable. Backups are working again and we’ve solved the IP issue.”
“Did Ops explain what happened with the IP issue?”
“Yeah, apparently they released duplicate IP addresses and it created a loop.”
His mouth goes into a crazy tight line and he barely registers a nod. I can’t tell if his irritation is aimed at me or at Ops, or at everybody. “Update me on the support center merger.”
“It’s going well. I’ve been meeting daily with Thompson to assess responsibilities and develop requirements. We’ve started on—”
He cuts me off, “I’d like you to bring Deidre in.”
“Bring Deidre in?”
“Yes. I want her there every step of the way.”
“But I’ve got a handle on it. Everything is going well.”
“She provides great value and experience. You don’t have experience,” he says so plainly, as if he’s just told me that the sky is blue.
“I’ve got enough,” I retort, a little too emotionally, because damn that hurts. I know I’m young, especially for a manager, but I’m good at this job and I’ve already got some great experience under my belt.
He glares at me with those dull eyes
. “Bring Deidre in,” he repeats.
“Well, that’s just great. In case you haven’t noticed, I get along with Deidre about as well as I do with rattlesnakes.”
He slaps his hand on his desk and I jump in my seat. “Miss Rodriguez, I expect you to be a professional in this workplace.”
“Stop calling me Miss Rodriguez.”
He leans forward and says in a tight, rushed tone, “I will call you what I want to call you. I will manage you as I want to manage you. I’m the one in charge here. I make the rules. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” and my throat tightens. “Anything else?”
“Yes.”
My eyes involuntarily blink a few times as my heart is about to pound out of my chest. I don’t think I’ve ever had a workplace argument like this, and especially not with a boss.
“I need you to pull stats going back to our archived ticketing system to find patterns of first-call resolution.”
“What? Why?”
“Are you not up to the task, Miss Rodriguez?”
“I can do it, but what’s the point of doing that?”
He nibbles on his too-thin lips. “Because I said so.”
I’ve never been treated like a child at work before, but I guess there’s a first time for everything. I suck it up because I have to. I have to keep this job to pay my student loans and I feel like I’m on the thinnest of ice.
And why?
Because I called in sick yesterday?
Or is it because of Halloween?
Because of Eoghan?
Because of my pretty obvious rejection of Aiden’s advances?
It’s total bullshit, whatever it is.
“When do you need the report?” I grind out.
“Close of business, Friday.”
“Friday?” I say, disbelievingly, because there’s no way a report like that, along with all my other responsibilities, can be properly done in three days. I would have to sacrifice the weekend. “How about Monday morning?”
“I thought we covered this. I’m the boss, you’re the employee. You don’t get to negotiate. Friday, close of business.”
“So, you’re punishing me?”
He opens his laptop again and starts clicking through his email. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You know exactly what I mean, Aiden.”
“I certainly do not, Miss Rodriguez. Now, please go back to work. I have things to do.”
“Right,” I say and get up to go.
“Julie,” he says, using my first name for the first time today. I turn to face him from the doorway. “Don’t forget that I brought you to Ireland. I promoted you. I made this happen. And I have the ability to undo all of it. Remember that,” he says so cold it burns.
I get it. He has all the power here and what do I have? A case of he-said, she-said. I have no proof that he’s been a total slime and to his credit, he’s started the process of documenting my work performance. What an absolute asshole. I don’t say a word in return and bolt. I usually don’t rattle that easily and I’ve always been proud of how much I’ve got my shit together, but this is different. I feel weak and vulnerable in this situation with Aiden, and that may be what’s bothering me the most.
Back at my desk, I shove my laptop back into the dock and pull my chair out the way I would imagine the Hulk to do. Javier wheels back from his desk and asks, “¿Estás bien?”
“Sí,” I answer back, even though I’m anything but okay.
He looks at me a little puzzled.
“I didn’t mean to assault my office chair,” I say in English, because those are words I’ve never put together in Spanish before. I’m not sure anyone has ever said it in English, either.
Adrenaline is pumping through me and it’s causing me to fat finger my search for sexual harassment policies in our company portal. I can barely read any of the search results. I’m trying my best here, but my brain isn’t processing any of it.
My phone chimes and it’s a text from Eoghan. I’m somewhat soothed, even before I read it.
Eoghan Murrough: Missing you.
A big breath leaves me and I realize that I need this. I need to calm down before I can figure out my next step.
Julie Rodriguez: I miss you, too. Whatcha up to?
Eoghan Murrough: You’ll never believe it, lass.
Julie Rodriguez: Tell me.
Eoghan Murrough: You’ll have to wait and see. I’m picking you up tonight.
And now I’m actually smiling, because I can’t wait to see him and I can’t wait to get out of this hellhole.
Julie Rodriguez: Can’t come soon enough.
Eoghan Murrough: Everything all right?
I blink back tears. No, it’s not all right, but I can’t share that with Eoghan. I need to handle this work situation on my own because the last thing I need to have happen is Eoghan storming into this place to pummel Aiden. That just needs to remain a daydream. Plus, he’s got enough on his plate with his family problems.
I quickly tell him that I’m good and that I need to get back to work. Then I proceed directly to the ladies room so I can cry properly.
“Eoghan?”
“Yes, lass?”
“What exactly am I sitting in?”
“This? This is called a motorcar.”
I swat his arm as he pulls onto the main road out of Ballycoom. “I know what it’s called, although we don’t really call it that back in the States.”
“Damn Yanks,” he says and winks at me.
His arm receives another one of my swats. “Why are you driving a new car?”
“Because I bought it.”
What the…
“And why did you buy this new motorcar?”
“Because we need it.”
We. It’s all I hear.
“We need it?”
“Yes, we do.”
“And why is that?”
“So many feckin’ questions,” he says, half-serious.
“I told you pretty much day one that I do this,” I remind him.
“Technically it was day two, the first time I drove you to Ballycoom.”
I can’t believe he remembers. It’s these little things that make my heart grow wider for him.
“Your memory is crazy,” I tell him.
“Only about you.”
He glances over at me, just in time to catch my slight smile, and then we drive in peace for a bit. Just a bit, though, because as much as I love that he remembers everything, I’m feeling troubled about this new car thing—that he did it for us, which means he partially did it for me. I need to understand this better. “Wait, you sidetracked me,” I start to back up.
“You did that all on your own,” he replies and bites his lip.
“Eoghan! What’s up with the new car?”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “We need a car, so I bought us a car.”
There’s that we word and that us word.
“And the taxi?” I ask, because that car was just fine. However, the moment I finish asking the question, I wish I could pull it back in. This isn’t altogether about us. “Does this have to do with your dad?”
He nods, but doesn’t answer more than that.
Still, this seems extreme and it’s stressing me out. If I wasn’t in the picture, he’d be just fine with his motorcycle. But I am in the picture, for now, and he bought a car. That can’t be cheap. Maybe he can still return it? “Well the bike is fine, isn’t? You don’t have to drive me all the time, if that’s the problem. I hope you didn’t do this for me, because—”
“Juliana, stop. I’ve needed my own car for ages, okay?”
I’m not sure I believe him and as a result, guilt bubbles up within me. He’s already done so much for me and what have I contributed back? I pay him a measly amount of rent. He feeds me, drives me, entertains me. And then there’s the photography studio. Jesus. I grab my purse from the floor and starting digging in it for my wallet. “I should really give you gas money,” I tell him as
I pull euros out. It’s a small start, but it begins to ease me.
“Stop. Stop. I don’t need petrol money,” he says with a little laugh.
He’s trying to bait me with his European vocabulary. He wants me to laugh with him, but I can’t. “Eoghan, I don’t want to take advantage. I know I owe you more money.”
“You help out in the pub all the time,” he tells me gently.
“But sometimes I get busy. Like tonight, there’s no way I can help out. I have this horrible work assignment that I have to start on,” I say, and I can’t hide the bitterness in my voice.
“Lass, what’s going on?”
I can’t go there with him. I don’t want to. The last thing I need to do is make him worry or stress out about me. “Nothing. I just have to work. I have to focus on work.”
“Did something happen?” He’s gripping on to the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles might just break the skin. “Is it that boss of yours?”
“No,” I quickly answer.
“Is it? Did he do something to you?”
He checks the mirrors and looks over his shoulders, as if he might just turn the car around. I cannot have that. It would only make everything so much worse.
“No, Eoghan, it’s not that. I just…have a lot of work. I’m behind.”
“You only missed a bleedin’ day. How far behind could you be?”
“It’s not just yesterday, it’s all this time. I mean, most of my colleagues work nights and weekends. I’ve been slacking, having too much fun.” There is some truth to that. Not that I’ve regretted even a single night that I’ve had down in the pub.
That doesn’t sit well with him. Not at all. “Juliana—”
“Stop, okay. It’s not your fault or anything. I just need to put my head down and work,” I tell him, but I can’t control my breathing. I sound as if I’m having an anxiety attack. Maybe I am. I’m definitely rattled and my mind starts circling around the worst-case scenario. Aiden could send me back to California, away from this life I’ve been building, away from Eoghan.
He’s no dummy, and he knows me pretty much better than anyone, save for Cara. He pulls the car over to the side of the road and turns on the hazard lights.
“What are you doing?” I ask between shallow breaths.
“Lass, what’s wrong?”
Pull At My Heart Page 25