“Sure I do,” I mumble. “There’s ‘fuck’, ‘fucker’, ‘fuckity’, ‘fucked’.”
She turns in her seat, narrowing her eyes.
“What?” I scoff. “Does my language offend you?”
“No,” she scoffs back. “But ‘fuckity’? Don’t tell me that’s an Irish word too.”
“You’re so annoying,” I mumble, shaking my head.
“Speak for yourself.” Her voice is flat and obviously unamused. She turns back around in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Jesus, Mason, quit being an eegit.” Sam eyes me in his rearview mirror, shooting me a look of warning. I can tell how protective he is of Charlotte, and it makes me wonder how long he’s known her. If Sam is so protective, it also makes me curious how long Charlotte’s been with her boyfriend.
“You’re the one who’s the eegit, you arse,” I mutter, banging my knee against the back of his seat.
Sam dramatically jerks forward, gripping the steering wheel. “What the hell, Mason?” Without breaking his eyes away from the road, he reaches around his seat and blindly punches my leg.
“Ow. You fucking arsehole!” Unfortunately, I wasn’t quick enough to pull away from Sam’s strike. I wrap my hands around my knee, rubbing away the pain.
Sam laughs, tilting his head back against his head rest. The pain in my knee quickly dwindles away, and I start to laugh with him. Once his laughing subsides, Sam turns his head against the headrest and faces Charlotte.
“Eegit.” He taps her knee, grabbing her attention. “Now that’s an Irish word.”
“Eegit,” she repeats slowly. She pauses and tilts her head to the side in thought. “Eegit. Sounds close to idiot. Am I right?” She turns around again and faces me, waiting for me to tell her whether she’s right.
She’s smiling at me as if she somehow knows she’s guessed it right. Like she’s now part of an exclusive club and is about to receive a special prize. Something about her enthusiasm makes my stomach twist. She’s cute and sexy at the same time. She’s still looking at me, waiting for me to give her the answer she’s looking for.
“Yes,” I sigh.
“Sam’s right then,” she laughs, turning back around, adjusting herself in her seat. “You are an eegit.”
The ride to my family home in Ennis is a short drive from the airport. It’s been forty-five minutes since our flight landed and twenty-five minutes since Sam picked us up outside the airport. Finally making it to Ennis, Sam drives us through the busiest part of the town, taking us the scenic route, obviously for Charlotte’s benefit.
“Mason and I used to come down here all the time when we were kids.” Sam points to several of his favorite shops and pubs.
Charlotte follows Sam’s finger, shifting in her seat to get a better view. When we make it to the edge of the market, we head in the direction of my parents’ house.
“What’s the age difference between you two?” Charlotte asks.
“Nine months,” Sam says. “I’m older.”
“Nine months?” Stunned, Charlotte trades glances between me and Sam and giggles. “So, you’re telling me as soon as your mom had you, she got pregnant with Mason?”
“Yep,” Sam grins and looks in the rearview mirror. “And you know what they say? The best ones always come first.”
“That’s not even a thing.” I roll my eyes. “No one says that.”
Sam shrugs. “I do, and that’s what matters here.”
“You guys are literally Irish twins,” Charlotte says with a grin.
I roll my eyes and groan at the same time Sam does. “Not like we haven’t heard that one before,” I mutter sarcastically.
“You never told me you had a brother, Sam,” Charlotte says, ignoring me. “This is quite entertaining.”
Leaning forward, I smack Sam’s shoulder. I fall back in my seat with a huff and relax against the passenger door.
“Sam never told you about me? Shows how much of a dick he really is.” From behind his headrest, I can see Sam shaking his head.
“I’m sorry, Charlotte. My brother seems to be in an unusually extra shitty mood today.”
“I don’t mind your bickering,” Charlotte says, turning away from me and Sam, focusing on the landscape out her window. Her voice is small and quiet, a stark contrast to the way she spoke earlier. “I’m an only child so I’ve never really known what it was like to have siblings.”
Silence fills the small space of Sam’s four-door sedan. I’m tempted to speak up, come up with some clever retort, teasing Sam or Charlotte on the wishful thinking of being an only child. But when her shoulders fall, and she doesn’t offer a further explanation, I decide against it. I keep my mouth shut.
A few minutes later, Sam turns into our parents’ neighborhood. Tight stone houses line the streets, some clustered together. Luckily, my parents’ house is set near the edge of town, separated from the busier side of the village. A few moments later, Sam turns onto their street. Reaching the end, he pulls up along the curb and turns off the car.
Resting my hand on top of Noodge’s urn, I shift in my seat to get a better view of the house.
“Are we still in Ennis?” Charlotte asks.
I don’t give Sam the opportunity to answer. “Technically, yes.”
“Technically?” Her eyes move from her passenger window to the windshield, then across to Sam’s window. A small smile spreads across her face as she takes in our surroundings.
“Yes.” I clear my throat. “Technically, we’re on the eastern side of Ennis, but my parents live in Roslevan. This part of town is mostly residential.”
“It’s a beautiful house.” Her voice is near a whisper, and I find myself smiling.
Sam eyes me once again in the rearview mirror, catching me staring at Charlotte. He shakes his head in disapproval before stepping out of the car.
I step out of the door and walk around to the trunk. Sam grabs Charlotte’s larger suitcase while I grab the small, silver one she had when I first met her. Slinging my large duffle bag over my shoulder, I wrap my arm around Noodge’s urn and extend the handle on Charlotte’s carryon, dragging it behind me.
The small stone house is quiet, and I breathe in the cool air, smelling the rain coming off the freshly cut grass. Long, tangled green vines cover the wall to the right of the large wooden front door. The leaves are overgrown, snaking their way to the edge of the roof, and I mentally remind myself to trim them later.
Sam unlocks the door, and once we're in the entryway, I stand Charlotte’s suitcase against the wall and drop my duffle bag to the tile floor. The living room is bright and airy, the natural light of the midday sun pouring through the large glass windows lining the house.
Sam heads into the kitchen, returning with three water bottles, handing one to me and Charlotte.
Charlotte stands in the middle of the entryway, her face a mixture of curiosity and amazement. My parents’ house hasn’t changed much since Sam and I moved out more than ten years ago—the same knick-knacks line the walls, the same lace curtains frame the small window above the kitchen sink.
“Where are your mom and dad?”
“They went on one of those Viking River cruises. They won’t be back for another two weeks,” Sam explains.
“Sucks I won’t see them when I’m out here. Maybe next time,” I say to Sam.
Charlotte’s eyes fall to the opposite side of the house. She slowly walks down the hallway, stopping in front of the large white double doors leading to the back patio.
Carefully placing Noodge’s urn on the dining room table, I follow her, making sure to keep a considerable distance. Mimicking her, I stare out into the garden that makes up the backyard.
Nearly every square inch of the yard is covered with every kind of flower, plant, and vegetable known to man. Each plant is divided by short wooden planks, creating a methodical maze of sorts. The garden stretches all the way to the back fence, and the sun shines against the section of roses to the right side
of the backyard.
“This is seriously the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”
I take a step forward, moving beside her.
“My mom has always loved her gardening.” I point to the back left corner of the backyard. “Do you see that tree back there? I used to sit beneath it for hours when I was a kid, working on my homework while my mom planted her roses or picked her vegetables.”
Charlotte nods. She hasn’t spoken a word but when I turn and face her, her eyes are glassy, shining against the sunlight pouring in. Her eyelids are hooded over, and she releases a long, heavy yawn.
“You look tired,” I blurt out. The second the words the pass my lips, I regret saying them.
Turning toward me, Charlotte narrows her eyes. “Thanks, Mason,” she deadpans. “In other words, you think I look like shit.”
I tilt my head and squeeze my eyes shut. Reopening them, I stare back at her. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant.”
“Whatever.” She waves me off. “It’s not like I really care what you think of me, anyway. Is there somewhere I can lie down for a little while? I think the time change is messing with my sleep schedule.”
My throat seizes, and I lose all ability to speak. Something about her stab at me dug a little deeper than all the others. Is that really how she feels about me? What she thinks of me?
She still looks as beautiful as she did the first time I met her, not even fifteen hours ago. Her lipstick has faded from a bright crimson to a pale red and strands have broken free from her loose braid, but she still shines against the golden sun.
Sam emerges from the kitchen, walking over to us.
“Of course, Char.” He doesn’t bother looking at me as he reaches out, grabbing her elbow. “You can take a nap in my old room. I’ll give you a tour of the rest of the house later, after you’ve gotten some rest.”
“Thanks, Sam.” She sends him a closed-mouth smile of appreciation as she follows him toward the stairs near the entryway.
Five minutes later, I’m sitting on the couch in my parents’ living room. I haven’t turned on the TV or even glanced at my phone, sitting in utter silence when I hear Sam’s footsteps coming down the hallway. Walking into the kitchen, he opens the pantry, grabbing a cup of instant ramen. I watch him as he walks over to the sink, filling the paper cup with water before he pops it into the microwave. The microwave hums in the background when Sam finally decides to talk to me.
“I don’t know what your deal is with Charlotte, but the way you were treating her in the car was…” He stops, thinking of his next words. Sighing, he leans over the counter and looks up. “You were being a complete and utter arse to her.”
“I was not being an arse,” I scoff. “She’s just as much to blame as I am.”
Sam holds his hands up. “All I’m saying is, I can tell you aren’t simply strangers.”
The microwave dings, and Sam turns around, removing his steaming cup of noodles. He sets it down on the counter and stirs in his seasoning packet.
“I don’t even know where to start.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh. “I guess to make a long story short...” I take a deep breath and throw my hands in the air, starting from the moment Charlotte and I met to the moment she started groping me. I slide my hand down my face and groan.
“Everything suddenly became awkward. It became even more awkward when we stepped out of the airport to find you were there to pick us both up. What are the fucking chances?”
“Fuck,” Sam says.
I swallow, not realizing I had zoned out, replaying every single detail to Sam. Somehow, I was unable to break my eyes away from the vase of roses sitting in the middle of the coffee table. I look up to find Sam standing in the same spot he was before my rambling. Only now, he’s leaning on the counter, his arms flexed, palms pressed flat on the laminate.
“I know,” I groan. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
“No, Mason. Fuck.” His eyes widen, and he waves his hands around dramatically. “When you say you’re going to shorten a long story, you shorten the long story.”
“What?” I furrow my eyebrows in confusion. “Did you even hear any part of that story?”
“Of course, I did.”
Rolling his eyes, he picks up his now cooled cup of noodles and walks around the counter, joining me in the living room. Instead of sitting down on the couch, he leans against the wall, crossing his legs at the ankles.
“But you definitely didn’t need to go into that much detail. Although, regardless what you say about what happened between you two, you’re still the arse in this situation.”
Frustrated, I hold out my hand, pointing to the stairs. “But she’s not completely innocent in this situation. Now that I know she’s Kyle’s girlfriend, what am I supposed to do?”
“What do you mean?” he asks. “Do you think this somehow counts as cheating?” I can sense the anger laced in his voice. The protective Sam from earlier has returned.
“No,” I shake my head. I think back to when I accused Charlotte of cheating. I was lying. I couldn’t allow Charlotte to know how disappointed I was to hear she was dating someone. Ashamed, I had come up with the most hurtful thing I could think to say.
Now that I know Kyle is her boyfriend, I’m not only ashamed but confused as hell why Charlotte would be with such a man. Sam has always been closer to Kyle than I ever was. He first met him at one of the University’s parties. By the time I had met him, Sam had already spent enough time with him to call him his best friend.
Yet even as I grew to know Kyle, we considered ourselves more acquaintances than friends. There’s always been something I’ve never understood about him. On the surface he appeared to be a good guy—always managed to get good grades, more friends than I bothered to count, and always had a line of women waiting for him to give them the time of day.
But the way he treated women at University bothered me. He would date one, then sleep with another, always acting like he didn’t mean to hurt the other, or it was a misunderstanding. It was behavior Sam turned a blind eye to and enough of a deterrent for me to wash my hands of hanging around the guy.
“I only meant I don’t know what to do now that we’re going to be hanging around each other while we’re here.” I look at Sam, begging him to give me an answer. “You’ve seen how we are. Apparently, we can’t be around each other and civil. She manages to press all my buttons and seems to enjoy it.” Feeling the exhaustion of the last fifteen hours catching up with me, I lie back on the couch, stuffing a throw pillow under my head. The knitted fabric of the pillow grates against my skin, but I’m immediately comforted, breathing in the scent of my mother’s home.
Sam stands up, finished with his cup of noodles, tossing his empty cup into the trash, then walks back into the living room, placing his hands on hips.
“Actually, about that. I need to talk to you for a minute. Can you sit up?”
“Can’t you just talk to me like this?” I groan.
“No.” Nudging the couch with his foot, he says, “Come on, it’s important.”
“Fine.” Sitting up, I stare at Sam as he stands in front of me.
“Emily’s coming up here this week to visit.”
“Okay, what does that have to do with me? I won’t get in your way if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Wincing, he crosses the room, and sits on the arm of my dad’s recliner situated in front of the white stone fireplace.
“Well, when Kyle told me he wasn’t coming anymore, I booked the house as an Airbnb to a couple travelling from Dublin.”
“Man, why would you do that?” Sighing, I drop my shoulders. “It’s going to be all weird having strangers roaming the house. I never understood how people can rent out their house to random strangers. It’s not like this is a hotel or an inn.” Pausing, I think of the next issue with having strangers in the house. “Where is everyone going to sleep?”
Standing up, Sam avoids making eye contact. “
That’s not the only issue.”
“Out with it, Sam. I’m losing my patience.”
“Okay,” he sighs. “I booked this couple between the time I didn’t think Kyle and Charlotte were coming and when Emily told me she was coming out to visit. But Emily isn’t coming out here to stay, she’s coming to pick me up. Emily took time off work so we could go out to Dublin to check out possible wedding locations. This is the only time she was available.” He pauses, his eyebrows raised, waiting for me to understand what he’s trying to tell me.
Emily is Sam’s fiancé, and they’ve been engaged since New Year’s. Since University, Sam and Emily have maintained a long distance relationship with her living in London and him staying here with our parents. Despite knowing how special and rare their time together is, I can’t help but feel he’s abandoning me. I stand up, my anger quickly growing.
“No. Fuck, no. You aren’t leaving me here alone with Charlotte. The woman drives me crazy.”
Sam stands up, holding his hands out.
“It’s only for a few days,” he explains. “You don’t need to hang out with her all the time, just make sure she’s okay. I know there are some things she wants to do while she’s here, and I want you to go with her, make sure she doesn’t get lost or hurt.”
“No, Sam. She’s your friend, and this was all your doing. We couldn’t even manage to spend a thirteen hour flight together, what makes you think I could spend the week with her?”
Silence falls upon the living room, when Sam presses his hands together like he’s praying. “Please,” he begs.
“I don’t need a fucking babysitter.”
Turning my head quickly, I see Charlotte standing in the hallway. The sun has now begun to set, the orange rays lighting her body. She’s wearing the same clothes as earlier, but her hair is now tied up in a high messy bun.
“That’s not what I meant, Charlotte,” Sam explains. “I just don’t want you roaming Ireland by yourself. Kyle and I can’t go with you, so I want to make sure you’re with someone I trust. You’ve never been here before.”
What are the Chances Page 4
