There's an old adage that says, "Fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me."

But what happens when you're fooled beyond that?

Like, four times beyond it...

I was beyond being scared.

As I stared down at the inverted Three of Swords in the spread's Outcome position, I was no longer fearful of the card's presence.

I was outright pissed.

But at whom was I so mad?

Mac, for daring to come into my store and disrupting my otherwise peaceful existence?

Nick, for taking me out last night, in turn causing Mac to all but fall into my lap?

Fate, for showing me the damned card in the first place?

It didn't matter. Not anymore.

"Get out," I said, my words barely above a whisper.

Mac blinked in confusion. "You said we could talk-"

"That was before. This is now," I countered, raising my voice. "Now get out."

"Siobhan-"

I stood so fast the table shook between us. "GET OUT!"

I heard swearing, a scramble, and not a moment later, Nick was at the screen, pulling it aside and looking in with panicked eyes.

"Siobhan, what's wrong?"

"Nothing now," I snapped. "He was just leaving."

"I don't even know what I did wrong," Mac protested, but Nick stepped next to the table.

"If she says the reading is over, it's over," Nick said levelly, but I could tell by the way he held himself that he was working his way into his manager mode.

"Is it over?" Mac asked me with a glance over Nick's shoulder.

I glared at him, crossing my arms over my chest. "It's over."

"See?" Nick chimed in. "Now, if you don't leave my store, I'll be more than happy to call the police and have them remove you on my behalf."

Mention of the cops made Mac pause, and his gaze fell heavily on Nick. Something dark crossed his gaze as if he was silently challenging Nick to call his bluff. Nick, to his credit, held his ground, even though I knew Mac could have knocked him out with a single, well-placed punch if he wanted to.

Nick's resilience held out, and Mac grabbed his coat off the back of his chair. "Fine."

"Fine," Nick echoed, squaring his shoulders with newfound confidence.

Mac only shook his head, but gave me one final glance before he trudged away from my space. My stare burned a hole through the screen until I heard the bells of the front door jingle. Only then did I collapse into my chair, letting loose an uneasy breath.

Nick took the seat across from me, but his attention was on the spread between us. "It doesn't look that bad," he mused as he assessed the cards.

"He has this tattoo, Nick," I informed him as I pointed to the Three of Swords.

"I'm going to assume you can't chalk it up as a coincidence."

"You know as well as I do that we don't believe in coincidences."

"I know." He sighed and ran a hand through his short, spiked blond hair. "If I had known, I wouldn't have allowed him to stay."

"If I didn't need my jacket, I wouldn't have let him stay."

He watched me for a moment before speaking. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

I shook my head. "Nothing like that. In fact, everything was going great-"

"Until you saw the tattoo."

I nodded, frowning. It sounded almost foolish when Nick laid it out like that, but the unease in my gut wouldn't dissipate.

"Did you ask him?"

"Ask him what?"

"Why he has a tattoo of the card that seems to be haunting you?"

I blinked. "No."

Both of Nick's eyebrows rose to his hairline.

Letting loose a breath, I shook my head. Trying my best to avoid the damning card, I looked at the rest of the spread. "I promised him we would talk once I finished his reading."

"And we know how that turned out."

I groaned and held my head in my hands.

"Do you think he was the one?"

"What?" My head snapped up.

Nick's gaze fell to the Three of Swords. "The one who was supposed to break your heart."

I looked down at the three swords penetrating the bright red heart and almost felt my own heart skip a beat at the thought. "Something tells me I may have broken his first."

We sat in silence for a few minutes before Nick stood up. "Alright, go up front."

"Are you sending me home?"

"No, but I know when your intuition is going to be shit. Clean up, work the register, I'll take the rest of the clients."

"It's a Saturday," I reminded him. "Our schedule is full, and you know there will be walk-ins."

"And it's already half-over." He motioned to the table. "Clean up, work the front, go home, drink a bottle of whiskey, and sleep it off tomorrow."

I hated to admit how amazing all of that sounded. It may have put a little more spring in my step as I packed away my cards, cleansed my workspace with a smudge stick of smoking sage, and covered my table.

I couldn't help but still feel Mac's presence, though he was nowhere to be seen; kudos to him for taking Nick seriously. But his residual essence was enough to make my skin crawl, and not necessarily in a bad way.

As I leaned against the glass counter, idly doodling trefoils and infinity symbols on a blank notepad, the unfortunate circumstances made me realize that I didn't mind Mac. Even accepting that I visited his hotel room after a drunken night at a bar, there was something about him that felt... comfortable. And if I hadn't seen that tattoo, if I hadn't pulled that card, maybe something could have come from it.

Maybe... but not now.

The rest of the day was uneventful, and my blood pressure was appreciative of slower traffic through the store. Nick handled the remaining clientele, which was steady enough, and I manned the register until it was time to close up shop.

"Let me walk you home?" Nick offered as we threw our jackets on and I turned off the lights.

"Are you asking because it's the chivalrous thing to do? Or do you truly feel the need to protect me just in case some big bad Scotsman jumps out of a nearby alleyway?" The thought made the corner of my lip twitch.

"Can it not be both?" he asked as he held the jingling door open for me.

"My apartment is in the opposite direction."

"But not in the opposite direction of Leo's," he admitted.

I shouldn't have been surprised. "A second date for you? Nicholas, I'm impressed."

"Shush," he muttered as he locked the door behind us. "He offered to make dinner, and I couldn't help but accept."

"Can he cook?"

"Hell if I know, but if he can make drinks like he does at Ned Devine's, I don't care what the food tastes like."

I chuckled as I stuffed my hands in my coat pockets, grateful to have the warm woolen garment back. Our conversation idled as we walked down the street, and my mind began to wander to thoughts of Mac. "Do you think I'm overreacting?"

"About what, exactly?"

"This whole... card... situation."

Nick glanced at me as we walked side by side. "I don't think you're wrong for being cautious."

"But?"

"But you wouldn't be asking me if you already thought you were."

"Thanks for the reassurance."

Nick shrugged. "Just calling it like I see it. We're very similar, you and I."

"Because we both like men?"

"We both trust our intuition." He smirked. "And like men."

"There's just too much falling in place with this one, intuition be damned."

"Remember, it was your intuition that landed you in his hotel bed in the first place."

"I didn't tell you that," I said with a raised brow.

"Well, I know you weren't stripping him in the middle of the dance floor, unless things got really crazy after I left."

"Fine," I conceded.

"And things were fine until he happened to have that tattoo, right?"

"Maybe."

"Then maybe things are fine and you need to stop worrying about it."

"It doesn't matter anymore. He's only visiting on business anyway."

"All the more reason."

I looked up to him, but something over my head had caught his eye. I followed his gaze, only to realize we were already in front of my apartment. But not only that, there was a bouquet of colorful and out-of-season flowers sitting in a glass vase on the front stoop.

"I didn't think Mr. Johnson was a fan of roses," Nick mused as we walked up together. Climbing the stairs, I crouched down and looked for a card, and sure enough...

Siobhan.

With a sigh, I opened the envelope and pulled out the small card inside.

Tá brón orm.

My throat went dry.

"Well?" Nick asked from where he had stopped at the bottom of the stairs.

"Mac says he's sorry," I said hoarsely, picking up the vase between my cold hands before standing.

"How did he know where you lived?" Nick asked suspiciously.

"Probably the same way he knew where I worked. He seems quite resourceful."

"Siobhan," he said, voice stern. "I'll come up with you."

"No." I tried the handle. "He knows the address, but he doesn't have a key."

"That you know of."

"It's fine, Nick." I pulled out my keys from my bag. "Isn't Leo is waiting for you?"

"Just like Mac could be waiting for you?"

"Mr. Johnson would never allow it." I unlocked the door and took a step inside before turning to face him. "I'll see you on Monday, okay?"

Nick watched me in silence for a moment before his shoulders slumped. "Why do you always have to be so stubborn?"

"Irish," I reminded him with a wink before I kicked the door shut and walked up the narrow stairs to my apartment.

One thing I'd never admit to Nick, I realized as I opened the door to my apartment and carefully looked around as I moved to the kitchen and placed the flower arrangement at the center of the table, was that I almost wished Mac had forced himself in and made himself comfortable.

At least then I'd have a reason to be angry at him.

It would be easier than missing him.