I remained seated.
“Fine.” She sighed dramatically. “Leave your pregnant best friend out in the corridor where any Tom, Dick, or Harry could get a piece of ’er.”
I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the corners of my lips from twitching.
“The landlord only has four tenants in the entire buildin’,” I called out. “Me and Aideen are two of them, and the other two are elderly couples on the lower floors. I’m the only person on this entire floor. The landlord isn’t in a rush to fill the apartments while most of them are still bein’ furnished, so no one is around to hear you, let alone harass you.”
My attention returned to the door when a thud sounded followed by the door rattling a little, which told me Bronagh gave it a little kick, and that action made me smile. She never had much patience, and it was beginning to show.
“Can you let me use the jacks at least?” she asked, her tone hopeful. “I won’t even look at you. I’ll go to the jacks, then I’ll come back out ’ere, close the door behind me, and we can start this argument all over again. Promise.”
At that, I laughed.
“You’re a pain in me arse, Murphy,” I grouched as I got up and walked over to the door, unlocked it, and opened it wide.
Bronagh instantly rushed by me and fled down the hallway.
“I wasn’t jokin’ about needin’ the jacks!”
With a smile still on my face, I closed the door, and walked back over to my settee. I sat down, tucked my feet under my behind, and waited for hurricane Bronagh to roll on in. Two minutes later, she returned and went off on me like clockwork.
“You’re a selfish bitch,” she said as she sat across from me. “D’ye know that?”
“I’m not makin’ you any tea for that remark.”
Bronagh snorted. “Drinkin’ tea isn’t on me to-do list, but roastin’ your arse is.”
I decided to play dumb.
“What’d I do?”
“What’d you do?” She threw me an incredulous look. “You’ve been MIA for seven days!”
“I’ve been right ’ere, and ye’know that.”
“That’s beside the point ’cause I couldn’t get in to see you no matter how much I threatened the day and night guards,” she quipped. “You haven’t answered or returned any of our calls since that shitstorm with Damien last week. We’ve all been worried sick about you. I literally puke at the thought of you now.”
I cackled. “Thanks a lot.”
“I’m not jokin’. Everythin’ with Damien was so serious. Are you okay, babe?”
I clenched my teeth at the mention of him.
“I just needed some space, Bee.”
Seven days’ worth of it, and it still wasn’t enough.
Bronagh folded her arms across her chest and stared at me. I resisted the urge to tease her because I knew she wasn’t even close to finished with roasting my arse. If I poked the bear when she was angry, I’d most definitely lose a finger or two.
“So,” I said, “is Branna still pregnant?”
“Yeah, but if she wasn’t, you’d have missed the birth of the twins.”
I licked my lower lip. “I’d have come out of hibernation if she was in labour.”
“Sure you would.”
I ignored her tone.
“I thought she was meant to be induced by now?”
“The doctor made a change in plans.”
Her abrupt answers told me she was annoyed.
“Go on,” I said with a wave of my hand. “Spit out whatever else you came all this way to say.”
She inhaled deeply, and in one huge breath, she said, “You’re shaggin’ Dante Collins, and you never once thought to enlighten me with that juicy bit of information? You’re the worst best friend anyone on planet Earth has ever had, and ye’don’t even care.”
I tried and failed not to laugh, which prompted Bronagh to grab a throw pillow and lob it at me. I caught it with a smile and snuggled it against my stomach.
“Alannah,” Bronagh said, her face the picture of seriousness. “Talk to me.”
I lost my smile. “I don’t want to, Bronagh. I just wanna be on me own for a while and forget ...”
“And forget what?”
I looked down at the pillow, and ran my fingertips over it.
“And forget Damien exists.”
She sucked in a sharp breath, and spluttered, “You don’t mean that.”
I looked her dead in the eye. “Trust me, I do.”
Her lips parted slightly.
“Alannah.”
I hurt her with my words, and my chest tightened because of it.
“I’m sorry,” I said sincerely. “I know you’re really close with ’im, but I’m cuttin’ ’im out, Bronagh.”
“Cuttin’ ’im out of what?”
“Me life.”
Bronagh reared back as if I had slapped her. “What happened ... it was just a misunderstandin’.”
“It wasn’t. It was an argument based on years’ worth of tension that finally erupted.”
My friend shook her head. “Nothin’ would have erupted if you didn’t randomly drop the I’m-shaggin’-Dante bomb in the middle of Branna’s kitchen,” she countered. “I mean, fuckin’ hell, Alannah. Did you really have to out that you’ve been seein’ someone in front of everyone when you were tellin’ Damien? It was a cold thing to do.”