by Dori Lavelle
Copyright © 2019 by Dori Lavelle
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Created with Vellum
My stomach is in knots as I open the door to my suite at Glenkerry Castle.
Even though I’m a florist who loves nothing more than taking a stroll in nature, I can’t find it in me to enjoy the lush, well-manicured gardens that surround the castle.
I know why I'm in Ireland. It’s important for me to be here, but at the same time I feel like getting back on the next flight to New York.
What if I don't get what I want tomorrow night? What if I leave Ireland with my heart as heavy as it feels right now?
Another woman would probably have been excited to be invited to stay in this beautiful castle. This is certainly a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
I was not supposed to be here. The invitation was meant for someone else, a friend of mine who went to the same college as Janie Locke, the promoter and manager of the Blackthorn band.
My friend, Ava, was unable to accept the invitation from her Mi Alpha Alpha sorority sister because she's eight months pregnant and would rather stay home with her husband, Carter, a gorgeous pilot.
Since I have always been a big fan of the Blackthorn band, and Ava was aware of my history with one of the band members, she suggested that I come instead, and she paid for everything.
Since Janie Locke was okay with me replacing Ava, here I am, and tomorrow night could change everything for me.
A welcome basket from Janie sits on the dining table of the luxurious suite. The note on the basket is addressed to me.
Hello, darling! Welcome to Dublin! I hope you have the best time. Hope to catch up, but I'm busy as balls, so if we don't, there’s always a next time. Enjoy the castle, and the show!
Janie
I lower the note to the table and study the contents of the basket. There's a bottle of wine, two glasses, chocolate-covered strawberries, and a few other treats.
I pick up one of the glasses and the wine and head to the bedroom, where I sit on the edge of the huge bed and pour myself a drink. I need it.
I must have consumed too much wine, because the next thing I know, I'm waking up disoriented from a deep sleep and it's dark outside. I arrived at the castle just after 3:00 p.m.
Instead of going on the search for a restaurant, I order in from one of the ones listed in the folder Janie left by the welcome basket. My Irish stew and fresh bread is delivered only fifteen minutes later.
I eat only because I have to. I had been too nervous to eat on the flight.
I'm sure the meal is delicious, but I don't taste it. In a way, I feel guilty for not being able to enjoy my stay as someone else would have.
I blow out a breath, reminding myself that I’m in Ireland for a special reason.
I'm surprised when I look down and my small bowl is empty. I didn’t think I had enough appetite to make it through one bowl.
It's 10:00 p.m. when I take a hot shower and finally climb into bed. The Blackthorns will be on stage tomorrow, St. Patrick’s Day, and I need as much sleep as I can get.
It feels like only five minutes from the moment I close my eyes and when I open them again. The sun is out and it's pouring through the large windows, brightening the white sheets on my bed. I had forgotten to close the curtains last night.
The rest of the day goes by in a blur and before I know it, I'm in the back of a taxi on my way to the concert, the Blackthorn flyer on my lap.
My eyes zoom in on the five band members, but my main focus is on Seamus Black, the drummer and also one of the vocalists. He looks different from the man I saw two years ago, when they were on tour in New York.
His bottle green eyes are still striking, but the beard makes him almost unrecognizable. I've never been a beard kind of girl, but Seamus is a drummer and the look kind of suits him.
When butterflies start to flutter in my stomach, I turn the flyer over on my lap so I don't see his face again, so I don't get nervous, so I don't change my mind about what I'm going to do.
The Dublin Arena, an indoor stadium, is vibrating with life, the sound of the music mingling in the air with the voices of cheer.
Happy people are bouncing up and down, gyrating and pumping their fists into the air. I’m not surprised at all. The Blackthorns have that kind of effect on their fans. I used to be one of them. I used to be one of those girls who would be trying to push through the crowds to get to the front, as close to the stage as possible.
I’m still a big fan, but I'm not here for the music. I'm here for one reason only— Seamus Black.
As one of the special guests, I'm lucky to be right in the front, next to some of Ava's sorority sisters.
“Are you having a good time?” one of them asks, a woman with straight black hair and flushed cheeks.
I nod and force my body to dance. “They’re amazing,” I say.
“Oh, yes. It’s always been a dream of mine to be at one of their concerts. This is a once-in-a-lifetime chance.” She pauses and stretches out her hand. “I'm Sarah, by the way. The Blackthorn manager invited me. We went to college together.”
“Nice to meet you, Sarah. I’m Piper Drews. The manager is the reason I’m here as well. You’re one of the Mi Alpha Alpha sorority sisters, right?”
“I sure am,” Sarah shouts over the music.
“I’m not, but I came in the place of my friend, Ava Starr. She was one of you.”
“I know her.” Sarah doesn’t stop dancing as she speaks. “She's married to a hunky rich guy, isn’t she?”
“Yes, and she’s pregnant with their first child. That’s why she couldn't make it.”
“Good for you. I hope you enjoy yourself.” She leans closer. “Later tonight, after the after-party, some of us are going to Mackey’s Public House. It’s a pub, I think. Would you like to join us?”
I shake my head. “I'd love to, but I'm jetlagged like crazy. I think the only thing I'd be able to do after this concert is crash.”
“I totally get that. Maybe another time. You’re also staying at Glenkerry Castle, right?”
The Blackthorns launch into one of their hit songs and the crowd goes crazy. Sarah instantly forgets our conversation to melt into the music.
It’s a good thing because I don’t have to tell her that I plan on leaving Ireland already tomorrow night. That’s all the time I need to do what I came here for.
My eyes return to Seamus. He’s the same man I remember, but at the same time he’s different. And he’s hitting the drums as though he’s pissed at them. His passion brings more life to the music, but I can't help wondering whether something is going on with him.
Even from a distance I can see that his shoulders are tense and his face is tight with tension.
He’s a different person just like I am. Time changes people. It changed me, with a little help from fate.
After several more songs, the Blackthorns exit the stage, waving at their fans as they go down the steps on one side.
This is my chance. I need to find a way to speak to Seamus. I could wait until the after-party, to which I’m invited, but I can’t wait that long. I’m done waiting.
Forgetting to say goodbye to Sarah, I run down the steps of the stadium and turn to the right, where I saw them go. I’m panting as I follow them out of the stadium.
My heart crashes when I see Seamus peel away from his team and get into a limousine. I’m near
enough to hear the others calling him, but he doesn’t turn back.
If I don’t do something, I won’t get the chance to speak to him.
Determined not to lose him, I run to one of the cabs waiting on one side of the road.
“Please, follow that limo,” I say to the driver as soon as I get in. My heart is thudding, my head is spinning, and the smell of cigarettes and sausages in the car makes my stomach turn.
“Your wish is my command,” the driver says, throwing me a smile. Then he starts the car and we chase Seamus into the darkness.
The limo pulls up in front of a brightly-lit luxury hotel, ten minutes from the stadium.
“Have we reached our final destination, love?” the driver asks.
“We have. Thank you.” I press the money I owe him and a huge tip into his hand, but I remain in the car for a few minutes, waiting for Seamus to get out of the limo first.
I need to catch my breath before I face him. I hold my breath when a door to the limo is thrown open and he gets out and takes long strides toward the red-carpeted entrance of the hotel.
I wipe my hands on my thighs and open the door. The night air is cool against my cheeks as I run after him. By the time I make it into the marble lobby, he’s ascending a sweeping staircase with a huge chandelier hanging from the roof above it. Why is he taking the stairs when there is a total of four elevators available?
Taking two steps at a time, he doesn’t even look behind him. He’s a distance away from me, but I’m determined to keep up. I could call his name, ask him to stop, but my lips refuse to speak just yet. Now that I finally have the chance to speak to him, I’m terrified. I still need time, even a few minutes more to gather up the courage.
By the time we get to the third floor, I’m out of breath and a stitch is piercing my side. But he’s not done climbing yet. Once we reach the fifth floor, which is the last, he turns a corner and heads to a door at the far end of the hall, and pushes open a plain white door that leads to another staircase. Where the hell is he going?
As soon as I make it into the stairwell, I bend forward to catch my breath, sweat dripping from my forehead and into my eyes. Above me, I can still hear his determined footsteps. Before he disappears, I straighten up again and climb the stairs, a hand pressed to my aching side, my legs shaking and my muscles burning.
I soon discover that the stairs lead to the rooftop of the hotel. It’s spacious and well-lit. As soon as the metal door closes behind me, my gaze sweeps the area until I find him.
A cold knot forms in my stomach when I catch sight of him standing on the ledge with his back turned to me. It doesn't take a genius to guess what he's about to do.
My breath feels like it has been cut off as I stumble toward him. I come to a stop at a safe distance so as not to scare him. The last thing I need is for him to slip and fall off the building the way it sometimes happens in the movies.
“Please,” I say, the word bursting from my lips in a rush. “Don't do it.”
He chuckles, still not looking behind him. The sound of him is just as beautiful as it once was, but this time it's dark. His laughter confirms to me that I’m right. He has come onto the roof to end his life.
“Don’t jump,” I say again, wringing my hands together.
“Why not?” There’s a noticeable crack to the sound of his voice. It’s clear to me that he has been planning this, maybe for a while.
When he was on stage, looking angry as he beat the drums, was this what was on his mind? Is it the reason why he looked so serious?
“If you do this, you’ll be letting down a lot of your fans.” My throat is slowly closing up with fear.
“And you’re one of them, I presume.”
I swallow hard and clench my hands into fists. “Yes, I'm one of them. And I’m begging you not to do this.” I wish I knew what people do in these kinds of situations. I'm afraid to approach him, afraid of doing something wrong.
Instead, I reach into my pocket for my phone, but it's not there. It must have fallen out when I was jumping up and down, pretending to be enjoying the concert. Or maybe someone stole it. Shit. I could really use it right now. If I had it, I could call someone to come and talk him out of his dark plans. I’m afraid to leave him up here to go and get someone from the lobby. What if I come back and it’s too late?
“Suicide is not a solution.” I've heard someone say those words before, but I don't know who. Or maybe I heard them in a movie. All I know is that I have to do everything to keep him from taking his life.
“Please, go away. I want to be alone.”
“I'm not going anywhere.” The tears in my throat wrap around my words. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping that when I open them again, he would have stepped away from danger. But he’s still on the ledge, still determined to die.
“You don't understand.” He shakes his head. “There's nothing for me to live for.”
“Of course, there is. You're living your dream,” I say, desperate. “You're a member of one of the best bands in the world.”
“I used to be. This was my last show.” He lets out a bitter laugh. “They're replacing me after tonight. I heard them. After all these years, they’re replacing me.”
A rush of fear and pain sweeps through me. I don't believe this. He must be wrong. He's been a member of Blackthorn from the beginning.
Now that I know why he’s doing this, what do I do? How could I possibly ease his pain? I cannot even imagine the kind of agony he must be going through right now.
“I'm sorry.” I take two very light steps forward so he doesn't freak out. “But that shouldn't be a reason for you to call it quits. There's still so much for you to live for. Please turn around and look at me.”
“I don't know you.” His shoulders are shaking as he says the words. Is he crying? “Go live your life and let me end mine my way.”
“I can't let you do that. I won’t be able to live my life knowing I watched you take yours.”
“Why the fuck do you care anyway?” He shifts and my heart stutters. “You’re just a fan. You don't know me. You don't know what I'm going through. The band was my life.”
“Actually, I do know you... kind of.” I didn't mean for our conversation to start this way, but I don't think I have a choice. “We... two years ago, when you and your band came to New York. You and I—”
Before I can finish my sentence, he turns around carefully. His eyes squint as he tilts his head to the side.
“It’s you?” His voice is still buried under several layers of pain and disappointment. “Red?”
I force a smile and wrap my arms around my body. “Well, not anymore. But back then, yes.” That’s what I had asked him to call me when we first met.
After their concert two years ago, I was so attracted to him that a few friends and I crashed their after-party. After a few rounds of tequila, and watching him from a distance, I finally found the courage to get close. Lucky for me, he was a little too drunk himself. I don't know how it happened, how we managed to get out of the hotel ballroom. All I remember is that I told him to call me Red. The next thing I knew, we were inside the ladies’ bathroom and his lips were on mine and he was inside me. I wasn’t thinking straight. I wasn’t thinking at all.
“I didn’t think I'll see you again,” he says without stepping away from danger. “You look different…nice.”
“You too. I kind of like the beard.” It’s best to keep him talking so he doesn’t do anything stupid. What happened between us was meant to be a one-night stand, nothing more than sex. There were no expectations, and no promises made. I knew the kind of life he led, that he was constantly surrounded by attractive women wanting a piece of him. Just like I did. I took what I craved that night and went on with my life.
Unfortunately, things don’t always work out the way we expect them to. When Seamus walked out of the bathroom that night, leaving me behind to clean myself up, he had left something behind.
“Why are you here, in Ireland?” His vo
ice is thick and unsteady.
I fold my arms across my chest and lift my chin. “I won’t tell you until you get off that ledge.”
He turns to glance behind him, probably wondering whether he should still go ahead and carry out his plan. Then to my surprise and relief, he takes a step toward safety, distancing himself from death.
He doesn't come to me. Instead, he sinks to the ground, his back against the wall nearest to him. He drops his head into his hands.
Overcome with so many conflicting emotions, I cross the space between us and sit down next to him, my arms around my legs. “Seamus, I came to Ireland because I wanted to tell you that the night we…that night changed me.”
He raises his head, blinks, then focuses his gaze on my face. “It changed me too. I've had my share of one-night stands, but you were different. I actually remember who you are.” He breaks our eye contact and leans his head back. “But if you came here asking for more, I don't have anything to give.”
“I'm not.” I shake my head, but my pulse has quickened in response to his confession. “I just... I wanted to tell you something that I should have told you a long time ago.” My chin hits my chest. “That night we slept together, I got pregnant.”
“You were pregnant?” He buries his hand in his hair. His eyes are hooded like those of a hawk. “Why didn't you—why didn't you tell me?” He grinds the words out between his teeth.
“I wanted to.” A hot tear rolls down my cheek. “I really did, but I didn't want to stand in the way of your music career.”
“Don’t give me that.” He jumps to his feet and glares at me. “That's not an excuse. You can’t just keep something that important from me. You had no right.”
“I'm sorry.” I bite down on my trembling lip and close my eyes to avoid seeing the hurt on his face. “I did want to tell you. And after the baby was born, I decided that I would.”
“But instead you waited this long to do it?” He charges back to the ledge and I cringe inside.
“Please, don't do it.”
“Don't worry about me snuffing out my life.” He comes to a screeching halt, but doesn’t turn to face me. “I'm too pissed off right now to jump to my death.”