Saving 6 (Boys of Tommen, #3)

“What? It’s true.” Laughing, I waved a hand idly in the air. “That’s how fleeting boys’ feelings are – and I don’t just mean Paul, either. That’s all boys. Sure, he might be pride-hurt, but he would forget about me pretty quickly.”
“But—“

“Come on, Mam, it’s like you’ve just said; you’ve been married to Dad for twenty years, and that hasn’t stopped him from forgetting about you every time he strays.”
“So, this way of thinking is because of our marriage?”
“Maybe?” I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“I hope not.”
“But even if it is, I’m glad because it prepared me for the inevitable. Don’t catch feelings and you won’t get hurt.” I smiled. “Simple.”
“So, you’re saying that you never want to fall in love and get married?”
“It’s not like I’m one hundred million percent opposed to the idea of marriage and motherhood. If the right guy came along and proved me wrong, then sure, I could do it,” I admitted. “But I could never cope with the crap you’ve had to deal with. I could never do that, Mam. And certainly not with your grace. If I loved a man, and I mean truly, madly, deeply loved him, then I could never handle knowing that he was with another woman. It would destroy me. I would go insane. I could never forgive that level of betrayal. Hence why taking that chance seems too risky to me. So yeah, I’m probably going remain ring-free for the foreseeable forty plus years.”
“So, you wouldn’t care if say Paul went off with another girl?” Mam questioned. “You know, since you don’t love him and all?”
“Honestly, I’d probably be pissed off, but mostly relieved.”
Mam gaped. “Relieved?”
“Yeah,” I replied. “Because he would have proven what I’ve known all along; that no man can be trusted.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Aoife, love,” Mam said, worrying her lip. “That’s an awfully cynical way of thinking.”
“Practical.” I winked. “It’s a practical way of thinking – and clearly the right way of thinking, considering the rumors I’ve heard.”
Mam gave me a disconcerting look. “What kind of rumors?”
I arched a brow and gave her a what do you think look.
“He cheated on you?” she demanded, immediately catching my drift. “Then what are you doing with him?”
“Ha!” I folded my arms across my chest. “Pot, meet kettle.”
She sighed heavily. “Aoife, love, you don’t have to put up with that sort of thing.”
“I know that I don’t,” I agreed. “And don’t worry, I’ve confronted Paul about the rumors.”
“And?”
I shrugged. “He says it’s all a pack of lies.”
“But you don’t believe him?”
“Would you?”
Mam gave me a sympathetic look.
“I don’t believe a single word that comes out of a single boy’s mouth,” I told her.
That’s not technically true.
You believe one boy.
“And how long have these rumors been circling?”
Longer than I cared to admit to my mother. “A while.”
“Do you know for sure that he hasn’t cheated on you?”
“Can anyone know that for sure?”
“No, I suppose not.”
“Exactly.”
“Then why would you stay with him, Aoife?”
“Why do you stay with Dad?”
“That’s not a fair comparison,” she replied. “We’re married.”
“Exactly,” I agreed. “You’re married, committed, in love, invested in one another, and it still happens. He still fucks you over repeatedly. So, if I’ve learned anything from you and Dad, it’s that no man, no matter how perfect he seems, can be trusted.”
“You shouldn’t be afraid to love a boy, Aoife.” Sadness filled her voice as she spoke. “Please don’t let our mistakes hold you back in life. It would break my heart to think that our relationship affected you to the point where you struggle to commit your heart to someone.”
“I’m not afraid of loving a boy,” I told her honestly. “I’m afraid of losing myself in one.”
“I hate to tell you this, but more often than not, the two go hand in hand.”
“I know.” That’s what scares me.
“Aoife.”
“Enough of the heavy.” Patting my mother’s shoulder, I gave her a bright smile before heading for the door. “I’m hot and sticky and in dire need of a shower.”
“Don’t you dare use that shower before I do,” Mam called after me. “I mean it, young lady, I’m having the first go of it.”
“Understood,” I replied as I hurried up the staircase, with every intention of doing just that.
Whipping off my t-shirt, I snatched a towel out of the hot-press, and legged it into the bathroom, cackling mischievously to myself.
“I mean it, Aoife Molloy, don’t even think about it!”
“I won’t,” I laughed, closing and locking the door shut before my mother could finish her threat.
Feeling smug, I stripped off the rest of my clothes and rubbed my hands together in gleeful anticipation, as I stepped into the fancy new shower and switched it on.
The motor roared to life, but nothing came out.
Not so much as a drop of water.
“What the hell?” I growled, twisting and turning the knobs in front of me. “Work, dammit, work.“
A knock sounded on the bathroom door then, and I blew out a frustrated breath.
Stomping over to my towel, I quickly wrapped it around my body, and unlocked the door before swinging it open. “I know what it looks like, but I swear I wasn’t going to use it before you…”
My words trailed off when my eyes landed on Joey.
“You’re back.”
“I’m back.”
“Well good.” Tightening my hold on my towel, I gripped the door and tried to play it cool. “Because you’ve done a crappy job installing this shower. The stupid thing doesn’t even work.”
“I know,” he replied, as he stepped around me and walked over the toilet. “That’s why I’m back.” Crouching down in front of the toilet, he reached behind the cistern. “Forgot to switch the stopcock back on.”
“The stopcock?” I laughed. “What the hell is that?”
Twisting the knob on a valve, Joey reached up and flushed the toilet and then hovered over the bowl, watching the water circle. Seemingly satisfied with that, Joey stood up and walked over to the shower and switched it on. This time, when the motor roared to life, it was accompanied by a steady spray of water coming from the jets. “Ta-da.”
“Yay!!” I clapped in delight. “My hero.”
“Easy to please you, Molloy.”
“That’s impressive, Joe.”
He snorted. “I turned the water back on.”
“I wouldn’t have known how to do that.”
He shrugged and moved for the sink, turning on the tap to wash his hands. “Well, enjoy your shower.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I plan to. Thanks again, Joe.”
“Anytime.”
Switching the tap off, he looked around for a towel, and when he couldn’t find one, he walked over to where I was standing and dried his hands on the bottom of my towel.

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