Chapter 17
POV: Liam?
I slept like shit, tossing and turning and seeing the same thing as I did.
Her eyes.
Her deep blue eyes. They way they softened when she looked at me.
The way her freckles danced on her nose as she crinkled it.
The way her blonde hair had a wave to the ends of it, even when it was perfectly straight.
The way she said my name when I was inside her.
I dreamed of it all night long. Without end. Without a moment of ease.
Fuck.
Fucking shit, Liam. You don’t know what you’re doing. You have absolutely no clue at all. You don’t even want a relationship. You aren’t ready to trust someone—especially not a woman.
Yet, I can’t help but constantly think of her.
How I want to be inside of her again. How I want to hear the way she said my name again in the breath of a moan.
God, I was hard. It was hard just thinking about it.
I let out a groan as I hauled myself out of bed and tried to think of anything but the way it felt to be inside of her. I knew what I needed to do. I just had to bring myself to do it.
It took me until the afternoon to finally brave the reality of it all. I didn’t want to leave things with Maeve like I had and I felt like shit when I realized that she heard what I had said to Caitlin. It was a lie, I knew it now just as I knew it then, that there was in fact something going on between the two of us, and I was tired of denying it.
At about 3:00 pm, I decided what I must do.
Bring her some lamb stew.
I already prepped it for the pub for the next few days.
I ladled a heaping into a large glass container, along with some irish soda bread, fresh butter, and grabbed a bottle of red wine then tucked it into an insulated lunch bag and headed on my way.
With every step, towards her cottage at the outskirts of town, my steps felt weighted—-weighed down with the unknown.
Because in reality, though my demeanor was normally calm by nature and I had denied my feelings for Maeve from the very beginning, I couldn’t help but wonder how she’d respond.
The distant sound of humming caught my attention. She was in the backyard.
I opened the small wooden gate and noticed her sitting at a small wooden table, typing like a madman on her laptop. Then, she slammed the laptop touch, let out a breath, tilted her head up and closed her eyes.
Damned that stick I stepped on, because it gave away my approach, causing her eyes to snap open and look at me. She blinked a few times before her gaze finally settled on mine, then the lunch bag, then back onto me.
I waved, trying to keep my usual calm, confident demeanor and walked up to the table. “Hi.”
“Um, hi.”
“Well, uh, sorry for coming by unannounced,” I replied, lifting the bag into the air for show. “I just figured I’d bring you something.”
“For?” she asked, but I could see it in her eyes. She was glad that I had.
“To apologize,” I explained.
“For?”
I see what she’s doing now, she’s playing the long game.
“For what happened back at the pub, yesterday.”
I was still standing there, holding the dinner I had made, at her rented cottage, wondering if she’d actually invite me in and accept the olive branch I extended.
But she was making me work for it.
And it only made me like her more.
“Nothing happened,” she lied.
But she was a shitty liar.
“Maeve,” I smirked.
She narrowed her eyes.
“I’m sorry. I brought over some dinner and wine and I hoped we could…talk.”
“Talk?” she rolled her eyes halfway. “Talk or fuck?”
“Woah,” I laughed, not meaning to. “Talk.”
Though, I was also thinking about the latter.
“Liam,” she began, ready to argue.
“Just talk, Maeve.”
She let out a breath, as if her argument was weakening by the moment. “Fine. Just talk.”
We ate in mostly silence, neither of us pausing in between heaps of stew, bites of bread, and gulps of wine.
But eventually, I knew that sitting and eating in silence wasn’t what I came here for.
“Listen, Maeve. I’m sorry. I really am. I don’t know why I said it and I don’t know why I got so…angry about it. I shouldn’t have said it. I should’ve just ignored Caitlin, and realized she was trying to put her nose where it doesn’t belong.” I stared down at the stew as if it would talk to me back.
The clang of the sound of a metal spoon hitting the bowl, caused me to look up.
Maeve abandoned her spoon in the stew and was staring at me now with crossed arms.
“I’m just…” I paused, unable to get the words out.
She raised her eyebrows, waiting for me to go on.
“I like you, Maeve, and I…”
“You already said that,” she added for good measure, knocking my confidence a bit.
Though I didn’t quiver. Maeve didn’t want me to back down, not really, she liked that I was confident, she liked that I gave her back her own attitude.
“And I think I’m worried because I do.”
“Go on,” she replied, still making me work for it.
“I haven’t had the best experiences in romance.” I was about to do a tell all. “I was engaged before and I was in love and I thought things would work out. But it didn’t. It was hard and I was fucked up for awhile and I guess, feeling things for you, has awakened that fear inside me.” I stared at the table for a long moment before finally deciding to look up at her.
And there I saw it—-the emotion within her eyes. They were softer now.
She reached forward, offering her hand without offering it, but it was creeping towards me as if it was a sign of redemption itself.
“I don’t like to go into the details, so if you’ll spare me,” I joked, trying to ease the tension building inside me.
“Oh, I think talking about your ex is a great idea for a real first date,” she quipped.
“A real first date?” I cocked an eyebrow.
Her cheeks turned a shade of pink that made something inside me electrify. “Well, we can go back to where I was angry at you if you’d like.”
“No,” I said almost too quickly. “This is good. A real first date.”