I press my palms to my cheeks. “Is this stupid?” I ask her seriously, “Am I asking to get hurt?”
“Niamh,” Ashley wraps her fingers around my wrist and drags my hands away from my face, “Do you have feelings for him?”
“I shouldn’t,” I rush out, “I shouldn’t, should I?”
“Breathe, babe,” Ashley orders. “Why shouldn’t you?”
“He paid me.” My shoulders sag as I let the door take my weight before I slide down it to land on my ass on the floor.
“In the beginning,” Ashley joins me and crosses her legs under herself, “But it’s not like either of you saw this coming. So what if that’s how you started? You deserve to be happy, Niamh.”
“What if being happy is the thing that makes me forget?”
It’s already started happening. I don’t think about my dad as often throughout the day, especially when I’m with Roman. He takes all my focus, pushes all that sad away, and I don’t know if I’m ready to let it go.
“You and I both know your dad would be so pissed if he heard you talking like that,” Ashley pins me with her dark eyes. “You don’t forget people, Niamh, it just gets a little easier to be without them. If Roman is giving that to you, I say let yourself have it.”
“And then what happens when he hurts me?” I fire back with a shrug, “How many blows do I have to take?”
“But what if he doesn’t hurt you, Niamh?”
When I don’t answer, she reaches forward and grasps my hand, holding onto it tight.
“It’s okay to be afraid, but what’s not okay is letting fear control you. You were afraid of opening this bar, and look what you made.”
“I knew what to expect with the bar,” I huff.
She laughs, “No, you didn’t. Stop being stubborn.”
“You’re supposed to be on my side,” I remind her.
“I amon your side.” She rises to her feet. “I will always root for your happiness; this is no different.”
I hate that she’s right, and I hate that I’m a fucking coward.
“Come on.” She jerks her head toward the door. “They’ll all be having a meltdown out there.”
I take her hand and let her pull me off the floor. “We were supposed to have a date tonight.”
“What!?” She shrieks. “Then why are you here?”
“I lied.” I wince.
“Wait, that actually makes sense in why you’re wearingthat.”
Looking down at the dress I picked out for the night, I smooth my hands down the soft skirts. I don’t wear things like this often, I don’t have time to, and the bar is hardly the place. I’d felt pretty after I put it on, but thenI chickened out and lied about the staff sickness and call.
“I told him we had a staff shortage, and you needed me.”
Her eyes roll so hard I’m surprised she doesn’t see the back of her own head. “You’re leaving.”
“Wait, no.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.No take-backs.”
