Chapter 19
POV: Liam?
It’s been 3 days.
3 long days that I never wanted to end. 3 days spent underneath blankets and on carpets and against tables and even the bar back storage room. 3 days with her.
Things felt right…things felt comfortable.
And I would be lying if I didn’t say that it scared the shit out of me, especially after what happened with my ex, but I was willingly and eager to take the jump anyways.
Last night, she spent the night in my apartment right above the Crow’s Nest, and we got way too drunk off Guinness, which isn’t good in itself, and accounts for usually an awful hangover.
But this morning, Maeve practically jumped straight out of bed, wide eyed and energized.
I nearly had to beg her to stay for breakfast, which we both needed—lots of bread in the form of pancakes to help soak up the late night boozing.
Then without warning, she got on her shoes, grabbed her bag and nearly ran out of the door without even saying goodbye.
I had to nearly chase after her to ask her where the fire was.
And she said the fire was in her mind—that she had an idea that she needed to write down before she forgot about it and I chuckled, kissed her and let her go on her way.
But secretly, I wished she would stay in bed with me all day until I had to open up the pub.
Though, I still didn’t say the word I thought, the word she probably hoped for, too. The word I was fucking terrified of thinking of—let alone saying out loud.
Girlfriend.
I didn’t want to label what we were doing.
Instead, I wanted to keep myself from openly defining it—out of my own fears.
Maeve didn’t act like it bothered her but I knew deep down, the question was there—it was always there.
And the fact remained that this thing with Maeve had an expiration in sight. And without a clear definition of what the fuck we were doing here, I knew that defining things was the easier option.
But commitment doesn’t come easy, especially not for the broken-hearted, so I decided that I should avoid it for now.
Hours went by, and I drowned my hangover in electrolytes, a greasy burger, and even another Guinness before I walked downstairs to open up the pub.
It was 7:00 pm when Maeve strolled in and for a moment, our eyes locked and neither of us looked away.
Caitlin had to nudge me to bring me back to reality. “You’re drooling.”
I shot her a glare. “The draft was a bit cold.”
“Sure,” she laughed, giving me a side eye. “Stop playing games with the tourists.”
“I’m not playing games,” I shrugged and went back to cleaning a pint.
“Then what do you call that?” she asked.
I realized I was staring at her again.
“Exactly like I thought. Everyone knows, Liam. You aren’t being slick.” Then she walked away.
Maeve plopped into a seat across from me at the bar.
Caitlin was right because as of late, we’ve been making our…connection a bit more obvious. Talking, laughing, her sitting at the bar.
“Is he bothering you?” I heard Caitlin call out from across the bar.
“Every single day!” Maeve teased.
I leaned across the bar towards her, not caring who was looking, though I’m sure we had a spectacle of people by now.
Because Maeve…well Maeve just brought that out of me. A mixture of fear and excitement that I couldn’t quite put into words.
“I think you’ll want to take that back.” I shot her a cocky grin.
“Oh?” she laughed and shrugged. “Maybe after I have a Guinness or two.”
“Be right back.”
As I walked away, out of the corner of my eye I saw Caitlin approach Maeve, probably trying to coax details out of her.
But when I returned with the freshly poured Guinness, Maeve’s face was different. She wasn’t smiling. She quietly nodded towards me, thanking me for the Guinness and taking a long, slow sip, almost as if avoiding a conversation.
I let out a deep breath. “What did Caitlin say now?”
“Nothing.”
But I knew she was lying.
“Maeve.”
“It wasn’t really anything.”
“Don’t lie, Maeve.”
“She’s just trying to…”
I laughed but there was no humor to it. “She’s just trying to warn you about her asshole brother, aye?”
Silence.
I scoffed. “Unbelievable.”
I looked around the bar and Caitlin was at the edge, serving tables.
“She should mind her business.”
“She should,” Maeve added.
“But?” I asked, knowing there was more to her statement.
“But I wonder if some of it is true,” she whispered.
“And what’s some of it?” I asked in shock.
“About you—your relationships with women—” she shook her head, looking down at her beer.
“Don’t be like that, Maeve. We’re having fun, aren’t we?”
But I saw it all in her eyes.
“Yeah, fun,” she smiled weakly. “My hangover’s coming back, I think I’m going to walk myself home.” She got to her feet, turning around and shuffling her feet towards the doorway.
Fuck.
“Great job, Caitlin,” I replied as she passed me and I walked past her and towards Maeve.