Damien (Slater Brothers #5)(19)

It was impossible to win an argument against her!

“You were there,” I said, willing myself not to get upset. “You heard ’im sayin’ he was goin’ out to ‘move on’,” I said using my fingers as air quotes around the words. “We both know what he meant by that. Don’t pretend like ye’don’t.”

He was going to “move on” between the thighs of another woman. I shouldn’t have cared about it, but I did, and I hated that.

“The farthest he got was to the Jobey where he was joined by his brothers and drank ’imself into oblivion.”

My heart slammed into my chest, and I suddenly felt sick.

“He ... he didn’t have sex with a random woman?”

Bronagh shook her head, and my heart leaped with the action.

“He drank ’imself sick and only got over his hangover three days ago. He’s ... in a bad way, and that has nothin’ to do with bein’ sick from drinkin’. He got into a fight with Dante at work as well, so that hasn’t helped matters.”

I refused to allow myself to feel any guilt, but it was difficult.

“And everyone blames me?”

She had the decency to blush. “We’re not blamin’ you; you both are the reason for your problems.”

“The only problem I have is the situation with me da. Other than that, I am perfectly—”

“Don’t you bloody dare say you’re fine,” Bronagh cut me off. “Because you’re not. Stop denyin’ shite that’s starin’ you in the face. It makes you look thick.”

I looked away from her.

“I was never in a relationship with ’im, Bronagh. It was just sex; sex that took place over six years ago. It’s not a big deal.”

“Who are you tryin’ to convince, me or yourself?”

I remained mute.

“I know you’ve a lot goin’ on with your parents and your job, but Damien is a huge part of why you’re feelin’ out of sorts.”

I sighed. “What do you want me to do, Bronagh?”

“Talk to Damien,” she replied. “That’s all I ask. Just talk to each other.”

“And if I refuse?”

“Then I’ll respect your decision, but I will also tell you how dopey you would be to refuse. You can say ye’don’t care about Damien as much as you like, but your actions say differently. Look at you, you’re almost cryin’ because I’m sayin’ this.”

I hated that my eyes stung with unshed tears.

“This is so stupid,” I grumbled, and wiped my eyes before my tears had a chance to fall.

“Look,” Bronagh said, coming over and squatting before me when I sat back down. “I love you, and I want to see you happy. Whether it’s with Damien in or out of your life, but trust me, you will be plagued with what-ifs if you don’t clear the air with ’im.”

I swallowed. “I’ll ... consider speakin’ to ’im.”

Bronagh winked. “Atta girl.”

“That bein’ said,” I continued, “he couldn’t get away from me quick enough last week, so he’ll probably run when he sees me comin’ his way.”

“Probably.” She grinned. “You’ll just have to bide your time, pick your moment, and corner ’im when he least expects it.”

“He always seems to see me before I see ’im. I won’t be able to pull the wool over his watchful eyes.”

“If that happens, I’ll just text you when he is in me house, and I’ll lock the doors so he can’t leave. Simple.”

That was such a Bronagh thing to say.

I shook my head. “You’re crazy.”

“Ye’know it,” she replied and gave me a hug before she stood upright. “I’ve to get goin’. Dominic is downstairs in the car with Georgie. I told him if I couldn’t talk sense into you in fifteen minutes, then he could come up and have a turn.”

“Go.” I tittered. “Before the good lookin’ fucker appears, and I get arrested for attempted murder.”

Bronagh left my apartment, laughing as she went. When she closed the door behind her, my smile remained on my face but only for a few moments. As much as I hated to admit it, Bronagh was right. I did need to talk to Damien. I had no clue what to say to him, but a conversation had to take place, and the thought made me extremely nervous.

I stood, then went into my bedroom and changed into black leggings, a black tank top, and a blue plaid, oversized, buttoned up shirt that I rolled up to the elbows. Each item of clothing had a stain of paint, charcoal, or ink of some kind on them, and the outfit was my go-to whenever I wanted to sketch and paint. Right now, I needed to do both.

I took my easel out of my storage press and set it up. Usually, whenever I painted, it was on paper, but today, something told me I needed to paint on canvas. I didn’t have many of them. In fact, I only had six remaining from the bundle of ten that Bronagh and Nico got me for my birthday a few months ago, so I was selective about what I used them for because I didn’t have the money to replace them just yet. I grabbed the biggest one, placed it on the coffee table next to my easel, and stared at it for a little while. I mulled over what paints I wanted to use, and whether I wanted it to be in colour.