Single Mom’s Guide to Love (Guide to Love #2)

17. Maeve

17

maeve

There are some things I gave up willingly when I became a mom. Dating and sex were the top two. I mean, who has time for likely disappointing outings when you have to raise a human? Another was going out for drinks on a whim. My mindset was that I had plenty of fun in my twenties. Probably too much fun. I took the shots and had the hookups and danced until the sun came up. I filled my quota.

But sometimes you just need the burn of whiskey going down your throat, songs you haven’t heard in twenty years, and your siblings surrounding you at your hometown bar on a holiday.

Lucky for me, all of my sisters are in town and the bar in Rolling Hills—our small hometown about forty minutes from Nashville—happens to throw quite the party on Thanksgiving night.

Yes, Porter, the owner of The Joint, knows that typically Thanksgiving Eve is the party night. His theory, however, is that people need a drink even more after spending all day with their families.

Or in my case, having the most weird, confusing, sad, and infuriating day known to man.

“Is no one going to ask the question?”

I look over to Quinn as I finish a sip of my whiskey and Diet Coke, as do Ainsley and Stella. “What question?”

“The one where I ask why you, out of all the sisters, requested we meet at The Joint—a bar you haven’t frequented in years, mind you—on Thanksgiving night, arguably it’s busiest night of the year?”

“It is a bit suspicious,” Ainsley adds, sipping on her club soda.

“What? Can’t a girl want to hang out with her sisters?” I protest. “I mean, how often do we all go out like this?”

That part is true. Between Quinn living in Arizona, Ainsley’s job, and Stella now happily in love with Emmett, it’s a rare occurrence when even three of us can hang out together, let alone all four.

So that’s the story we’re sticking with. Because I might not want to be alone with my thoughts, but I also don’t want to talk about them.

Stella leans forward on her elbows, staring at me so hard I feel like I’m about to be interrogated. “There’s something you’re not telling us. And…I’m going to go out on a limb and say that it has something to do with a certain sexy billionaire.”

I know my cheeks are turning red. I just hope they can’t see them in the dark bar. “It’s not Logan.”

Well, it’s not just Logan…

“The lady doth protest too much,” Quinn replies.

“I said one thing! How is that too much?”

“You could have said nothing,” Quinn says. “Now spill. How is it working for one of the world’s most eligible bachelors?”

I know Quinn isn’t asking about the design and the progress on the house. She might want to know some details about if he’s really like who the tabloids and blogs say he is. But all I keep thinking about is today, and the broken boy who is living inside this powerful man.

How can a family treat their children like that? I know that Jayce will likely need therapy one day—hell, who doesn’t?—but even with Josh and Vivian randomly getting married, he still has a pretty normal home life.

And then there’s my crew. The Banks family is as traditional as it comes. Five kids. Two parents who are approaching forty years of marriage and still love each other like it’s year one. We’re loud, chaotic, and there’s nothing we wouldn’t do for each other.

Then there’s Logan, a kid who is now a man, who just wanted for everyone to get along and to love each other. A little boy who thought if he could make his parents proud they’d stop arguing for just a second. A brother who wanted to make sure his sibling was going to be okay. A man who, despite what he says, is probably still trying to make his parents proud, even though they’re selfish assholes who don’t deserve a second of his accomplishments.

In his own way, he wants to fix things. And I get that more than anyone.

Even with the news that he was in a dozen different PR relationships, his backstory is all I keep thinking about. But I can’t tell my sisters any of this. Neither are my stories to tell. And I have a feeling Logan hasn’t told many people what he told me today.

So I’ll deflect with my sisters and let the whiskey wash away the hurt I’m feeling for Logan. And the urge to go back to his house, give him a hug, and tell him that everything’s going to be okay.

“It’s good,” I say to her question. “He’s pretty much given me free rein.”

“And he’s easy to look at.”

“Stella!” I scold. “You’re a taken woman.”

She smiles and does a little dance in her chair. “I am. I love Emmett and everything about him. But you have to admit, Maeve, he’s the kind of man that women add to their hall pass lists and men would put in the category of, ‘Yeah, I’d probably try it.’”

“That’s ridiculous,” I say. “He’s not that hot.”

I mean, he is, but I feel like I have to protest. If I don’t, my sisters will be playing matchmaker in a heartbeat. And that’s not going to happen. Ever.

Well, ever again…

“He is,” Quinn says. “I’ll prove it.”

She grabs her phone, types in something and stops a woman walking past our table.

“Excuse me. Sorry to interrupt, but can you settle a bet for us?” Quinn holds up her phone. “Scale of one to ten…one being I wouldn’t fuck him with someone else’s vagina to ten being I’d let him do that thing I said I’d never do?”

She looks at the phone then back to Quinn. “Twelve. That thing I’d never do and contemplate leaving my husband.”

“Thank you, you’ve been a huge help.”

Ainsley and Stella are in keeled-over laughter while I’m rolling my eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m just proving a point.”

At that moment, Porter comes over with a tray of drinks we didn’t order.

“What are these?” Ainsley asks.

Porter looks over to Quinn before adjusting his eyes back to Ainsley. “It’s not often the fourth Banks sister graces Rolling Hills with her presence. I figured the least I could do was a round on the house.”

Stella and Ainsley echo thank-yous to Porter, but I can’t help but notice that he looks over to Quinn again. She doesn’t realize it as she’s reaching over for a bottle of beer, but I can clearly see that this man could be getting robbed right now and wouldn’t notice.

What is he doing? Does he even know Quinn? He and I graduated together, and she was a few years younger.

Did they ever—no. She would’ve told me.

Right?

“Oh Porter!” Quinn says, finally taking notice that he’s still here. “Can you settle a bet for us?”

“Didn’t we already do this?” I groan.

“On the women's side, yes. But I’d like a male point of view.” She shows him the phone. “How many shots would it take?”

He looks at the picture then back to her. “One, just for the nerves. And that’s because he’s Daredevil level hot.”

“Exactly!” she says, fist pumping in the air claiming victory. “Your participation is appreciated.”

The two look at each other a little too long for normal before he heads back to the bar. But before I can ask too many other questions, a booming voice comes through the front doors.

“Seriously? What the fuck!” my brother Simon shouts as he stomps over to our table. “Where was my invitation?”

I try not to make eye contact with my big brother, who I intentionally didn’t invite. Don’t get me wrong, I love him. We’ve had each other’s backs for multiple things over the years. But sometimes, conversations are meant just for your sisters. And since I didn’t know how far Logan talk would go tonight—because of them, not me—I decided against inviting the oldest Banks.

“Can’t we just have a girls’ night?” I ask as he pulls up a chair.

“You can, but it’s rude,” he says. “I never get to hang out with all of my sisters, and I have FOMO.”

“How did you know we were here?” Stella asks. “Did Emmett tattle?”

He taps his nose. “This is what you get for dating one of my best friends, little sister. No secret is safe.”

We all chuckle at that one. Oh, if Simon only knew some of the things that Stella and Emmett have done in the office they share with him, I guarantee he wouldn’t be saying that sentence.

“Fine, you can stay,” I say. “But when we get to conversations you don’t like, your choices are to suffer and listen or go to the bar and come back when we’re done. Deal?”

He holds up his right hand. “I solemnly swear to not freak out over girl talk.”

“We all heard that, right?” The three others nod their heads. “So, where were we?”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth I regret saying them. Because I remember where we were, and I wasn’t about to like it. And judging by the Joker-type smile on Quinn’s face, I’m right.

“We were rating how hot your client is. I was then going to ask the table to place bets on how big his dick is.”

“Whoa!” Simon yells. “This is girl talk?”

“It is,” Ainsley says with an eyebrow wag. “Can you handle it?”

Coming from any other person in this town, that sentence would only be mildly funny. But coming from the sister who is the angel of our clan, who I’ve never seen drunk, and is by far the purest of us all, it’s fucking hysterical.

“Oh my God, Ainsley!” Stella says between laughter so hard she might fall out of her seat. “I fucking love you.”

The smile that grows on my Ainsley’s face is priceless. “He wanted girl talk. So he’s getting it.”

“Well played.” I didn’t want to talk about Logan tonight, but something about the topic bothering my brother makes it enjoyable. “And we’re not guessing.”

“What the hell!” Simon is now downright confused. “What am I missing?”

“Sorry, we’ll catch you up,” Stella says as she proceeds to fill Simon in on everything. And since I clearly know the story, I take the opportunity to pull Quinn in closer.

“Care to tell me what’s going on with you and Porter?”

Quinn takes a pull of her beer and shrugs her shoulders. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t play dumb. There were looks, Quinn. Looks you don’t give someone you used to go to high school with and see a few times of the year. So spill.”

Here’s the problem with Quinn: Her poker face is stellar. She doesn’t get my red cheeks. Or Stella’s drifty eyes. And she’s the opposite of Ainsley, who has never been able to tell a lie. Quinn could look you dead in the face and tell you the sky is green and you’d believe it while looking at blue as far as the eye can see.

“Nothing to spill,” she deadpans. “I don’t know what you think you saw, but I can assure you it was nothing.”

She turns away from me, which is as much of a tell as she’ll give.

I don’t know what, but something is up. And I don’t know when my schedule will allow for me to dig into it, but it needs to be added to the list. Or I’ll sic Stella on her. My baby sister has a doctorate in social media stalking.

“Wow,” Simon says, indicating he’s thoroughly brought to speed. “Look at my sister, banging a billionaire.”

“I’m not banging a billionaire.” I snap.

“But you want to.”

I whip my head to Quinn. “Why do you say that?”

“Because five years ago, when you and Josh got divorced, you sat with us at this very bar and declared to the town with your full chest and both titties that not only were you never getting married again, but you were done with dating and sex was off the table. That you were a mother first, a business woman second, followed by sister and daughter. And that’s all you had room for in your life.”

“You did,” Ainsley says. “You were very adamant about it.”

“Thanks for the reminder. But what does this have to do with Logan?”

“I’m just saying, you held on to that mantra for five years and didn’t budge an inch. And now you’re trying to tell me it only took one hot as fuck guy with an accent and a few martinis to make you throw that out the window? There had to be something more there, even if you don’t know it yet.”

I stay silent, because I’m pretty sure she’s on to something I don’t want to admit to myself.

“Plus,” Stella continues. “We all know why you took his commission. It was smart for your business. But you have to admit, it’s more than a job at this point. Like why were you at his house today?”

I wasn’t expecting that callout. “How did you know I was there?”

“We checked your location,” Ainsley says. “We were worried about you spending the day alone.”

“And I only know one place in that area of town that would’ve kept you there for hours on end,” Stella says. “Did you really need to hang curtains on Thanksgiving?”

I guess now is as good of a time as any to tell them the other breaking news in my life. “I went there because when I dropped Jayce off today, Josh informed me he and Vivian eloped last week. And I didn’t want to sit around all day alone, so I went to work.”

The table goes quiet until Simon’s bark breaks the silence. “He did fucking what ?”

I wave him off. “Yup. Eloped. And don’t ask for more details, because that’s all I have.”

“Holy shit,” Stella mutters. “That’s fucking huge.”

“It is,” Quinn says. “Which then brings us back to the original question—why did this major life thing happen and you went to him, and not to us?”

“I—” Shit…I never even thought of that. In my mind, everyone had things going on today. But in reality, that was just Simon and Stella. I could’ve called Quinn or Ainsley. But I didn’t. On the surface, I wanted to work and keep my hands busy. But in the back of my mind, did I want to see Logan?

“Listen, at the end of the day, and between the teasing, all we’re saying is if this man is different, it’s okay to change your mind,” Quinn says. “At the time of your divorce, you did what you thought was best for you and Jayce. And no one will ever tell you that it wasn’t the right decision, because it was the right decision for you.”

“But,” Stella chimes in. “If Logan’s different, if he brings out something in you that you didn’t think existed, or had been pushed down so far that you forgot about it, don’t run from it. Embrace it.”

“And don’t close yourself off,” Ainsley says. “Maybe he’s in front of you at this time because it’s the right time. But don’t be stubborn and think that you have to die on a hill that you built for survival. Remember that.”

Damn. When did I get such smart sisters?

Because they’re right. I did and said what I needed to do when I got divorced for my survival and sanity. I was about to be a solo parent, and I went into the only mode I knew—do it all yourself. No distractions. No messiness. Leave the party days behind and focus on the future.

Be in total control.

But they’re right; if it only took Logan a few looks, a few drinks, and a few “Loves” to break those walls, even if just a little, doesn’t that mean something?

Fuck, now I’m more confused than I was coming in here.

I look over to Simon, who is the only sibling who has yet to say anything. “Got anything to add, big brother?”

“I do,” he says, sitting up straight like he’s about to make a grand statement. “Is he an actual billionaire? Like, what kind of cars is he driving? Does he have a plane? And he’s British? Is he James Bond? Or like a British Batman?”

Ladies and gentlemen…my family.