Troubles (Beekman Hills Book 1)

by K. C. Enders

  More than beautiful—far beyond gorgeous. She is devastating in her navy dress hugging every one of her luscious curves like they’re a fucking gift just for me. With her hair pinned up, I trace the line of her neck to her bared shoulders and suck in a lungful of air. The dress wraps around her—caressing her chest, accentuating her narrow waist, molding to her hips. Just her calves peek out from below, but her shoes. Sexy-as-fuck dark red heels that I want to feel on my back with her legs wrapped tightly around my hips. Dear God.

  Before I can find appropriate words to compliment Lisbeth, Gracyn pops her head around the corner.

  “That’s the reaction I was going for.” She hands Lis a small purse and whispers in her ear. Her smile and the blush that runs up her neck is almost too much for me. “Have fun, kids. Make good choices.”

  I hope. I hope she chooses Yes.

  Chapter 24

  Aidan

  The candlelight plays with the few tendrils of auburn curls that have escaped her pins. I can’t take my eyes off the exposed slope of her neck. It’s absolute poetry. As she studies the menu, I take my time studying her. Her eyes look brighter than usual against the dark makeup; her lips are a bold red, the bottom one caught between her teeth as if this is her biggest decision of the night.

  Maybe it is.

  Maybe she won’t have to think about the answer at all when I ask her to live with me.

  She lowers her menu and takes a sip of her wine. I reach for her free hand and pull it closer to me. My thumb over her knuckles, finger rubbing light circles on her wrist. “You look truly beautiful, Lisbeth.”

  She smiles sweetly over the rim of her wine glass. “Thank you.” The waiter comes, takes our orders, and clears the menus, granting me the space to grasp both of her hands between us. “Is everything okay?” Her brows pinch together when she asks.

  Jesus, I’m nervous. “It is. Just about perfect, yeah. Your classes went well so you’re set to graduate and be done after this term?” It’s taking everything I have in me not to blurt it out, and to wait for after dinner. I want to do this right—make sure she knows how much she means to me. Because she means so much.

  “God, yeah. I can’t believe I’m almost there, almost done. It finally feels real, you know? Thank you for everything you’ve done to help me. I know we got side-tracked a couple times, but in all seriousness, I would never have made it through these two classes without you.” The flickering candle dances in her eyes. I could get lost in their depths. Jesus, they’re beautiful.

  “Anything you need, love. I told you that.” The words want to spill off my tongue. “Lisbeth, I—”

  The waiter brings our food just then and the interruption gives me the break I need to find the strength, the resolve to hold off from acting a fool. I want to ask when we’re alone—in case she says no.

  Lis thanks the waiter and waits a beat. Just a moment until he’s clear of our table. “You what? What were you going to say?” I’ve lost all ability to focus on my answer as I watch the fork slide through her lips. My God, this woman. “Aidan? What were you saying?”

  “Tell me. Which was your favorite flat of the ones we looked at?” I know I’m stalling, but I have to know that I made the right decision.

  “Uh…not the cat place.” She wrinkles her nose adorably.

  “No,” I chuckle. “Not that bloody flat. Not at all.” I’m fidgety, and I know it. I want her in my life, every single day. “Tell me your favorite. The one you liked best.”

  “Why do you want to know, Aidan?” I love that she’s asking. I love the challenge that bleeds through her question. She sets her fork down and clasps her hands together on the edge of the table, leaning toward me, and I decide this is the moment.

  “Lisbeth, love. I want you to like where I live. I want you to want to be there. With me.” I don’t put my fork down. Instead, I turn it toward her and watch as she parts her lips for me. I watch as she wraps them around what I’ve offered her.

  Locking my gaze on her, I wait. Wait for the questions, the answers—wait for what will either make my heart sing or weep.

  I had a speech prepared—flowery, lovely words—but patience is not in my arsenal tonight. The small box in my pocket becomes an unbearable weight. And knowing full and well that she’s going to freak out, I pull it out and take the ring from its velvet nest.

  Her eyes go wide and her fingers shake as she lifts them to her lips. Those lips that I want to capture. “Aidan…I…we…” Pink is tingeing her cheeks; her pulse looks like it’s beating frantically at her throat.

  “Lisbeth, I would love nothing more than to wake up to you every day. I want you to help me choose a place to live because I want you there with me.” Her gaze bounces between mine and the ring in my hand.

  “Aidan, I…”

  “Do you know what this is? Do you know the significance of the Claddagh?” Slowly, she shakes her head. “Love, loyalty, and friendship. ‘With these hands, I give you my heart, and crown it with love.’” My words whisper their way out, quietly enough that she leans closer to me. I reach my left hand across the table with my palm facing up.

  “Where and how it’s worn shows the true significance. Can I have your hand?” So slowly, she places her right hand in my palm. “On your right hand, with the point of the heart pointing toward your own means you’re in a relationship—a committed relationship. It lets the world know that your heart belongs to someone. Will you wear it that way?”

  She swallows and nods her head with a barely audible yes. “Are you…does this mean you’re staying?” The fact that she questions that kills me.

  “I plan to, yes. Lisbeth, I would love nothing more than to move you in with me and switch that ring to your other hand.” I place a kiss over the ring where it sits on her right hand, and then press my lips to the empty ring finger of her left hand. “I know that this is big. I know that I’m asking a lot of you and I’m asking it quickly. It scares the shite out of me that we’ve only known each other four months, but I love you, Lis. I don’t want to let you go. I want you with me.”

  I hold my breath, waiting.

  I can’t let the silence be. She hasn’t said anything yet, hasn’t responded, hasn’t made a noise at all.

  “It’s down to two places. The smaller flat that overlooks the river is plenty big for me. But I feel like you were drawn to the townhouse closer to town—with the funky kitchen and the garden in the back. There’s room for a hammock.”

  I glance up at her hoping for a sign, some indication of what she’s thinking.

  “The one with the claw foot tub? The brick walls and wood floors?” Is it a good thing that her eyes are shining like that? I want to believe that it is.

  “Yes, that one. Both are available right away. I can move next week, as soon as I get back from the city. The townhouse is just a three-month lease, but the flat is available for longer.”

  “Which one do you want?” she asks.

  “Lis, I don’t know how to say it any clearer. It doesn’t matter to me. I’ll have space, separation from the boys in either place. They’re good guys, I appreciate them letting me crash with them, but I’m ready to get out of there. The only thing that matters to me is that you want to be there.”

  Her breath comes out in a trembling whoosh. Not at all what I was hoping for. “Can—can I think on it?” Fuck.

  I clench my jaw, grinding my molars against each other. Nodding my head, accepting the utter disappointment at her reaction, I force a smile to my lips. It’s fake as shite, but I hope it at least comes across as something better than a grimace.

  “Of course.”

  “It’s not no. I just, this is big. It’s really big. I was with Rob for four years and living together never came up. It just…”

  “Lisbeth, don’t. Don’t put me in the same category as that—as him. That’s not fair or right.”

  Her gaze jumps to finally meet mine.

  “I’m not. I’m just, God this is—I don’t know.” My hear
t has done its time on the amusement park rides tonight—up and down. Slowed to almost stillness and then thumping through my chest. “Let me try again, I’m not explaining this well,” she starts. “I have stuck to a really strict, disciplined plan for the past three years. The only reason I’m here, within sight of graduating early is because of that plan. Focus and a handful of people who, for some reason, believe in me and support me when my own family can’t be bothered, have gotten me here.”

  I know all of these things. I do.

  “And I have to talk to Gracyn.”

  What the hell? I fight not to bristle at her rejection, devastated that she needs her friend to help her with this decision.

  “Surely, she likes me enough, yeah?” I huff out a small laugh as I push my hair away from my face. I lean back in my seat searching for some sign that this isn’t over.

  Did I read too much into this? Maybe.

  LIS

  “Aidan, I’m not looking for anyone’s approval or permission to do this. Yes, it’s a big deal and I guess I wasn’t sure about us.” The hurt pinches his face and mars his features.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed for this. It’s too soon.” His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are glistening as he looks away.

  “Please just listen to me. Please?” A slow nod lets me know he’s listening. I wait for him to turn back to me before continuing. “I wasn’t sure about you—about whether you would stay. I’ve been petrified, wanting to ask you, but so afraid of the answer. So afraid that this is more to me than it is to you.” My hand flutters back and forth between us, but settles over my heart.

  “Lisbeth, I will love you regardless of whether you choose to move in with me. That’s not going to change.”

  “You’re giving up a lot if you stay here, and…”

  “Lis, there is no place I’d rather be. I want to be here, with you. Or somewhere else, but only if you’re there too.” He leans across the table, reaching for my hand.

  “Your family is all in Dublin. What about them? What about your parents and siblings? What about your nieces and nephews? You’re willing to give up seeing them whenever you want? You’re willing to give that up for me?”

  “I’m not giving anyone up. I will see them plenty; every time I travel to the UK for an assignment, and I can’t wait for them to meet you, Lis. I want you in my life, and your life is here.” His voice drops to almost a whisper. “What else is holding you back? What does Gracyn have to do with this?”

  No matter how I say this now, it’s going to sound ridiculous. After that huge declaration, I feel completely foolish.

  “I can’t just leave her without a roommate. I need to give her time, help her find a new roommate or something. We’ve lived together for more than two years. I can’t just run off and dump the other half of our rent on her. She’s done too much for me to ever treat her like that. Can I say yes, soon?”

  He stares at me for what feels like an eternity. I’m not sure Aidan has any idea how much it just took for me to do that, to stand up for myself. To open myself up and argue—push for what I need.

  The relief is overwhelming as he nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do soon.” He settles our bill and we leave the restaurant hand in hand.

  I don’t think either of us expected the evening to end this way.

  Chapter 25

  Aidan

  The bed is far too big to be mine. The air is too cool and quiet to be my flat. And the throbbing in my head is far too severe to be just the drinks I had at dinner last night.

  The restaurant.

  I peel my eyes open and try to take stock. Not in my flat. I rub my hands down my face and reach deep for the memories. I know for sure I had not planned on waking here alone.

  Dinner.

  My phone pings somewhere nearby, and the sound rips through my head. I look around again and see it on the floor. It’s halfway across the room, past the jumbled pile of my clothes. Christ, what the fuck happened last night?

  Lisbeth.

  Maybe the whole fucking thing was nothing but a bad dream. Maybe she’s decided. Maybe she’s ready.

  My stomach churns as I push myself up and sit at the edge of the bed. With elbows on my knees, I take deep breaths until the waves calm. I stumble to the loo, not sure whether to pray that I purge this shit or not. I splash cold water on my face and then rest my hand on the back of my neck.

  I rifle through my clothes and pull on my briefs and trousers. Slow steady movements, nothing jerky to upset my tenuous hold on the situation. Hope crinkles at the edge of my heart as I grab my phone. The screen is cracked and there are glass chips on the carpet from an empty whiskey bottle. No wonder I feel like shite.

  Nausea and disappointment roll through me. My plan was to wake wrapped up in the woman I love. To finally have some true privacy with her. To celebrate taking our relationship to the next level, moving in together. To touch and talk and kiss and love her.

  I toss my fucked phone on the mattress and pull on the rest of my clothes. Throw the evidence of my misery away. I probably should have left the bottle on the floor with the shards of glass, but I can’t. Instead, I clean up as best as I can and leave.

  The air in the flat is enough to drive me back out into the world. I couldn’t stay at the hotel—that was to be with Lisbeth.

  I sure as shit can’t stand to be here. It’s just another reminder of how much I want to move out.

  I shed my clothes and step into the shower. I let the scorching spray rain down on me for as long as I can stand it. Sadly, it does little to improve my mood.

  The hell with this. I can’t hang around here. I need to move, do something. Be somewhere else. It’s not yet ten o’clock, but I throw on shorts and a t-shirt.

  As I pound on Finn’s door, I run a hand through my hair. “Hey, you awake?” I hear the faint sound of bed springs creaking and moans coming through the door. Jesus. “Right. I’ve got the bar today. You—you just carry on.” The words fade as they leave my mouth. That should be me. My reality this morning. Instead, my heart hurts, my head is pounding and I’m heading to work.

  It’s ridiculous that I’m actually glad the pub is a fucking mess from last night. I lock the door behind me and flip on lights, just illuminating the bar. Only the bare minimum I need to see. I’ve spent far too much time in my head this morning and need a fucking escape.

  As the mop bucket fills, I put all the chairs up on tables, stools up on the bar and crank the music. And pop some ibuprofen and pour myself a pint.

  To say I’m focused on the shit task of scrubbing the floor would be an understatement. Scrubbing, mopping, changing out the water. I’m washing up the last section when I see the back door open.

  “I thought Finn was openin’ today. Didn’t you switch wit’ him? Take today off?” Francie yells above the music as he takes in the state of the pub. “Jesus, would you turn that down, I can’t think wit’ it goin’ like that.”

  “That’s the point.” I reach past the taps and lower the volume to a workable level. I finish up the floor, ignoring the rest of the shite he’s asked me. “You wanna start putting the chairs down and I’ll get the tables wiped before you unlock the door.” I heft the bucket and head out back to dump it. I decide to wash the bucket and thoroughly clean the mop while I’m out there. Shite should be done right the first time.

  “Yeah, it should but why don’t you leave the poor mop alone and come inside. ’Ave a pint wit’ me and tell me what’s troubling you.” Again, I’m so far in my head, I never heard Francie come out. “Come on, Aidan.”

  He nods to a barstool and slides me a fresh pint. “You took Lissy out last night, yeah?”

  “Yeah.”

  He stands there, like the barman he is, folded arms resting on his belly, hip against the bar. He’s had years of practice and will wait me out. I plant my elbows on the bar and scrub my hands over my face. Somehow with the music at a normal volume, my head hurts worse than it did before.

  I take a l
ong pull from my glass and heave the breath I’m holding out my nose. The longer I keep my mouth shut, the better. I don’t want to deal with what I’m feeling, let alone talk about.

  “Out wit’ it, lad. Let’s go. Did you fuck things up wit’ my Lissy? I told you, you weren’t to get involved if you were just goin’ to mess around.” He’s all arsed up now.

  “I didn’t fuck it up. I don’t think.”

  It’s under his breath, but I catch something that sounds a lot like and that’s the fucking problem.

  “I can’t do this. I’m a cliché, sitting here.” I shove my barstool back catching it just before it hits the floor. “You sit, old man, and I’ll prep the bar.”

  I grab a clean rag and attack the bar top. I scrub at nothing, moving just for the sake of moving. Tension is thick in the air. Francie watching me, waiting for me to stop muttering to myself. He moves ’round the bar meticulously straightening all the barstools

  “Son, you’re going to wipe the varnish off the thing.” His voice is much softer this go around and that’s what does me in. Bracing myself against the bar, arms wide, I drop my head and suck in a big breath.

  “I don’t know where I went wrong.”

  “Did you have a row? Have things gone arseways wit’ the pair of you?”

  “No, we didn’t fight. I told her I loved her and asked her to move in with me.” The words physically hurt to speak. Hearing myself say them out loud makes it all too real. I grab my glass and drain it in one go. And because this day can’t go any further into the jacks, the keg blows as I’m refilling my pint, spraying the dark sticky beer all over me.

  “Fuck.” I slap the tap shut with a lot more force than it deserves. I rip the empty keg out like the whole thing is personal. And of course, the fresh keg I need is buried in the cooler under cases of bottled beer and other shite.