What are the Chances

by Brittany Taylor

  His voice has grown louder with every word, and I thank the Lord over and over, all the Airbnb guests have checked out. Only I’m not sure whether it would have mattered if they were here. We’d still be fighting just the same, yelling just the same.

  “I care about her, too, you arse!” I yell back. “I wanted to tell her about it, but every time I got close, even the tiniest bit, I heard your obnoxious little voice in my head. You don’t get to make decisions for people, Sam. You just don’t. The truth is the truth, whether people want to hear it. You don’t make that decision for them. You let them decide and hope to all fecking hope, you can simply be there for them.”

  “Right,” Sam nods. “You’re right, brother. I shouldn’t have told you to keep it a secret, but you didn’t have to listen to me. You could have told her. Apparently, you’ve had ample time. For fucks sake, you were sleeping with her!” The sarcasm laced in his voice grows.

  Sam and I are close enough I can tell the difference between his emotions. Right now, with him standing in this room with me, he isn’t really angry with me for sleeping with Charlotte. He’s hurt because I didn’t tell him I was falling for Charlotte. He feels left out of the loop. Like the kid who was picked last in gym class. The last to know. So, I don’t take offense of what he says. Mostly, because his points are valid and hold truth.

  “I should have told her,” I repeat. My voice is softer now and disappointment washes over me. It doesn’t matter if I yell at Sam or go fecking cry in a corner. I wouldn’t do that, anyway, but that’s beside the point. I can repeat those same words until I’m blue in the face, but it doesn’t change the fact I didn’t tell her. It doesn’t change the fact when Charlotte looks at me now, she knows I kept a secret from her. And I know she looked at me the same way she had Kyle.

  “I should have told her,” I whisper again.

  “Mason, I’m really sorry.”

  I hold my hand up, telling my brother to stop. I need a break. I need to get away from Sam.

  “It’s my fault too,” I manage to choke out. “I fucked up like I always do.”

  The orange, setting sun fills the room. I want to leave, not just this room or this house. I want to go home, back to my life in America. I love Ireland, but I want to run. I want to leave this place far behind me and never look back. I tried once before, and it worked, but now, I find myself in the same position, feeling the same way.

  Leaving my brother standing in the living room, I walk upstairs, ready to climb into bed, every step difficult. My feet stomp and slide against each of the steps up the staircase. I’m falling apart the higher I go. I’m walking down the hallway, ready to go back to the tiny room Charlotte and I once shared, but when I pass my old bedroom, the door still propped wide open, I stop.

  I’m standing in the doorway, staring into the space where Charlotte once was. My eyes move to my old bed. The sheets are still ruffled and pushed off to the side. I can still feel her here, and the longer I stare, the more I feel her slowly disappearing. My eyes roam across the bed, then to my nightside table before landing on my old Boondock Saints poster.

  With hooded eyes, I stare into Norman Reedus’ eyes. Like me, he’s an imposter. He was pretending to be a person he wasn’t. I feel betrayed, lied to. I hear Charlotte’s voice ringing in my head like a melody, telling me Norman was from Florida. Fucking Florida.

  I clench my fists and stomp through the threshold into my room. I step up onto my bed, the mattress dipping under the weight of my feet. Reaching for the top of the poster, I stare into Norman Reedus’ eyes. I think about Claire. I think about Charlotte. And I think about how Norman is a fecking liar. Just like me.

  Without another thought, I rip the poster from the wall.

  Charlotte

  THE FADED BLACK-AND-white picture feels rough under my fingertips as I scan my grandmother’s face with my finger. I never knew her, but seeing her dark hair pulled back into a tight bun, standing next to her sister has me feeling even more emotional than I did when I knocked on Alma’s door.

  My chest is tight with how much anger is rippling through me. I’m so angry. Angry I fell so hard, so fast. Angry I trusted so easily. Angry this happened again. I fell for a man who easily kept secrets from me and broke my trust.

  A soft knock on my door has me lifting my head from the small portrait in my hand.

  “I put on some tea.” Alma’s calm face appears in the small doorway, but the way her lips are turned down confirms she’s worried about me. When I showed up on her doorstep in tears, she was quick to pull me into a hug and shower me with hot tea and breaded treats.

  “Okay,” I softly agree, getting up from the warm bed Alma made up for me last night. I follow her through the door and down the short hallway until we’re met with brilliant sunlight. I blink, wishing the weather would cooperate and match my melancholy mood today. I carefully scoot onto one of Alma’s kitchen stools and grip the mug of tea she poured for me.

  “Let’s get to it then. Are ye goin to tell me what’s goin on?” Alma huffs in her thick accent, worrying over a breakfast dish that has meat and something else I’m not familiar with. I hadn’t felt like talking last night, just crying, so Alma was kept in the dark about why I’d mysteriously shown up on her stoop. Although, since I was without Mason, I’m sure she’s made an educated guess.

  “It’s a long story,” I begin and wince. It sounds like I don’t want to include her in my life, so I backpedal. “What I mean is, it’s a little petty, but I’ll explain.” I flick my eyes to Alma’s back as she busies over the food.

  “Mason saw a picture of my boyfriend kissing another woman. He saw it over a week ago, right when we started acting like friends, then continued to keep it a secret from me after we became more than friends.” I take a small sip of the hot tea and adjust the wrap around my shoulders. It’s bright outside but chilly in Alma’s house.

  Alma stirs the pot in front of her, then turns to cut a few vegetables. She focuses on her project but gives me a slight nod to encourage me to continue.

  “I kissed Mason before I officially broke up with Kyle. I had told Mason about how Kyle had cheated on me last year and how much I was struggling. He knew we hadn’t been in a good place. But the day we spread his cats’ ashes, he kissed me, and I kissed him back. I felt so horrible, Alma. I never wanted to repay Kyle for what he did to me. I never wanted to be that person in a relationship. Mason made me feel so guilty about it.”

  Alma stops stirring and pins me with a curious look.

  “So, this picture he saw was of your boyfriend recently cheating?” Alma’s eyebrow raises, just slightly.

  “Yes, right after I landed in Ireland. Kyle was supposed to come with me but said he couldn’t get time off work. Turns out, he traveled to Spain instead.”

  I sip my tea again, trying to push the hurt back. Oddly enough, the hurt doesn’t surround Kyle at all. No, it revolved solely around Mason knowing and not telling me.

  “So, Mason knew and made you feel guilty about kissing him?” Alma clarifies as she minces an onion. What on earth is she making?

  “Yes, and after I broke up with Kyle via voicemail, Mason still wasn’t satisfied and said some harsh things to me about not finalizing it with Kyle.” A fresh batch of hurt makes its way into my voice as I finish my story.

  “I feel like such an idiot, Alma. I felt so terrible about how I ended things with Kyle as though I didn’t do enough to properly end it, so I was free and clear to start something with Mason.” I point at my chest as tears fill my eyes again.

  “I felt terrible. All the while Mason knew. He knew and could have made me feel better about being with him. About kissing him and sleeping with him—about falling in love with him. But he chose to keep me in the dark, chose his secrets over me, just like Kyle.” I swipe at my tears as my chin wobbles. A sob is stuck inside my lungs, and I ache to let it loose. I hate this. I hate how emotional I am over a man I just met, but this hurt he left me with stings and burns in ways I’d never
experienced with anyone else.

  “Oh, my sweet girl, let it free. Ya have to let the hurt out, or it will fester inside your bones and break you,” Alma whispers, wrapping her warm arms around me, rocking me in place. I cry into her shoulder, letting the hurt and confusion pour out of me.

  “Now, did Mason say there was a reason he kept it from ya?” Alma has a firm hold of my arms as she stands back to examine me, looking for some clue in my tears.

  I look down at my white coffee mug and wrinkle my eyebrows as I consider her question.

  “He said Sam had asked him not to say anything. That Sam wanted me to hear it from someone who cared about me.” I let out an ugly sniff, reaching for a napkin to clean up my meltdown.

  “Let me ask you this, dear.” Alma turns me until we’re eye level, and her light blue gaze devours my blotchy face.

  “What would have happened with you and Mason if this big hiccup didn’t occur?”

  I let my thoughts flit over the idea I’d had of us together, but in the end, no matter what I wanted with Mason, there was always something I wanted more.

  “I would have told him I was moving here and hoped he’d move with me.”

  “You can’t start a new chapter without finishing the old one.” Alma leans forward and kisses my forehead. “Go to him, try to hear his heart without your anger in place and see if peace can be made. You owe it to your heart to give it another try. If nothing can be done, then get on your flight tomorrow, pack your things and come home.”

  My heart swells at the word ‘home.’ I know this is right. Regardless of the condition of my heart and where things are with Mason, Ireland is right. Family is right. It’s home.

  I lean forward until Alma’s hugging me again. I know I need to try to talk with Mason one more time. It didn’t hurt any less, but the idea of going back to California and leaving without him hurt even more.

  ***

  The ride back to Mason’s was faster than I was prepared for. My heart thunders in my chest as I exit the Uber and stand in front of his house. I want Mason in my life. I want him in my future and to help me move on from my past. I cling to everything I know I love about him as I walk to his door. Before I’m even able to knock, it swings open, revealing an exhausted Mason.

  His red hair is disheveled and matted on one side. His eyes are red and dark bags lie underneath them. His green eyes search my face frantically before he takes two steps forward and wraps me in his long arms.

  Crushing me to his chest, I can feel his firm jaw resting on top of my head. I close my eyes and hold back the urge to cry as I inhale his cedar scent, the smell that laces my memories and holds all the things I want in my future. A warning bell shoots off in my head as the events from yesterday come crashing back to me. I take a step back, forcing him to let me go. His eyes narrow, making him look worried.

  “You’re back,” Mason says softly like he doesn’t want to scare me away.

  I nod, wetting my dry lips. “We need to talk.”

  His lips form a firm line as he nods in agreement, a look of concern not leaving his face for a second. He turns and heads toward the garden, and I take a tentative step forward and follow him.

  Mason sits under the tree I have favored over the last several days. He’s in wrinkled jeans that straighten as his legs bend, and his black t-shirt stretches as he leans forward. He must have gotten as much sleep last night as I did. Without his arms around me, I couldn’t nod off. At some point, my emotional turmoil wasn’t even an issue, just missing the warmth and security from him. I move closer and bring my legs under me as I crouch next to him.

  I let out a heavy sigh and grab for Mason’s hand. We need to be touching for this conversation. I need to touch him and know I still have him.

  “Mason, I need you to know why I was so hurt over the picture thing.” I swallow thickly and start in, not looking at his face. I tug his hand until it rests over my heart.

  “Okay,” he whispers. I can tell he’s giving me the floor to tell him everything I couldn’t yesterday.

  “I felt guilty, Mase. Horrible for kissing you while I was still with Kyle. Then when I did break up with him, it wasn’t good enough for you. You said things that tore me open and made me feel like a cheater, like a horrible human—all the while knowing he cheated again. You could have shown me, you could have given me the freedom to fall for you in peace, rather than shame.” I push my eyes closed as a few tears slip free.

  “Mason, you chose to keep that secret between us and still chose to tear me down for kissing you when you could have easily liberated us both. That hurts on so many levels. You’ve been cheated on before, you know how much it hurts to be lied to.”

  I open my eyes to find Mason’s red eyes brim with tears. He looks away, swiping his large hand over them quickly.

  “Dammit Char, I’m so fucking sorry. I thought…” He trails off, tipping his head back, looking at the sky. He tugs his hand free and uses it to run his fingers through his hair. The wind shifts and caresses us with warmth, stirring the leaves above us. I can hear nothing else as the trees respond to the current of air.

  “I thought this was about Kyle cheating on you… and you being hurt he did it again.” Mason slowly turns his gaze until its locked on me.

  “This has nothing to do with Kyle. Nothing at all, Mase. This is about how guilty you allowed me to feel, knowing the entire time my boyfriend had already ended our relationship by cheating.” My voice is softer than I want it to be. I want to be loud and roar through his misunderstandings, but my heart feels weak, exhausted.

  “I don’t know what to say to that, Char. I was just doing what Sam asked,” Mason softly justifies.

  I nod, understanding what he’s trying to do but frustrated just the same.

  “Sam wanted to tell me when he knew I’d be around someone who cared for me…” I trail off, hating that my mind is going down the dusty, ugly road of self-deprecation.

  Mason gets where I’m emotionally headed and rushes to correct it.

  “No, Char. Fucking don’t do that. I cared for you, I care for you… fuck, I’m in love with you. I just didn’t know how to show it.” Mason looks frantic, his entire body turned toward me, his hands at my waist.

  “Charlotte, let me fix this. I have to fix this because you belong with me, I feel it here.” Mason presses his head to mine and places my hand over his heart.

  “I love you Charlotte, I will never, ever keep anything from you again. I swear,” he whispers, then brushes a soft kiss across my lips. My heart leaps and begs for more kisses, more confessions, for wild abandon with him, but my pride has me pulling back.

  Mason’s eyebrows draw together in confusion, and the look is too much. My heart can’t handle losing him, so I push forward and press my lips to his, just as we hear...

  “What the fuck is this?” Cuts through the air from the back door.

  Mason and I quickly turn our heads at the interruption.

  Blonde hair styled nicely with his tan face and square jaw, his sharp, furious blue eyes glare dangerously at Mason and where his hands are on my hips.

  I look between Mason and the oddly timed interruption and stand to my feet.

  “Kyle? What are you doing here?” I ask, moving forward, curious why my ex is here in Ireland, seething and clenching his fists.

  “I came here to talk to you, Charlotte. I came here because I’m your fucking boyfriend.” Kyle glares over my shoulder at Mason.

  I bring my hand to my forehead and rub away the confusion as if it was that simple. I was so close to patching things with Mason. I’m furious with Kyle and his terrible timing, but I’m also curious.

  “Kyle, we broke up. I left you several messages, and there’s the little issue of you cheating on me… again.”

  Kyle’s expression softens, and his eyes flick from Mason to me. He steps forward and tugs my hand into his.

  “Baby, it’s all a big misunderstanding. I can explain it all if you give me a chance. But you ca
n’t just end us… not after everything we’ve been through.” Kyle’s voice wobbles, and I resist the urge to roll my eyes. I can feel Mason moving closer to us, and I see him clenching his fists from the corner of my eye.

  I pull my hand free and take a step back, ready to tear into Kyle, but Mason steps impossibly closer and pulls me to his side, and I can feel the tension radiating from his body as though he’s barely holding it together.

  “Fuck off, Kyle. You interrupted a very important conversation.” Mason’s tone is lethal. I don’t want this to escalate. I want to finish my last night in Ireland wrapped in Mason’s arms, and if he gets into it with Kyle, that isn’t going to happen. So, I wrap my arm around Mason’s waist, confirming the message I’ve moved on—with Mason.

  Kyle’s eyes move from my face to where my hand is wrapped, a sheen of red coloring overwhelming his face and neck as he steps closer.

  “Get the fuck out of here, Mason, before I smash your fucking face in. This is between Charlotte and me,” Kyle says, deadly calm, then wraps his fingers around my upper arm and pulls hard until I’m out of Mason’s grasp.

  Oh hell, no.

  “What the hell?”

  My words fall on deaf ears as Mason steps forward and punches Kyle in the face. Kyle releases me as he brings his thumb up to his bleeding lip. He isn’t concerned with me anymore, his focus solely on Mason, and he looks furious.

  Kyle lunges at Mason, shoving him to the ground. Mason throws another punch, wrestling against Kyle’s weight. Kyle leans back and throws down a heavy fist against Mason’s face in return. I cringe at how hard it hits.

  “Kyle stop it. Get off him!” I yell, now panicked he might have broken Mason’s nose. He ignores me, just as I knew he would and always had.

  “Mason, please stop. Come on, you’re better than this. He isn’t worth it,” I beg, but Mason ignores me too as he throws another punch at Kyles face.