Chapter 23
POV: Maeve?
It’s been a whole day since I saw Liam.
I’ve purposefully kept myself cooped up inside the house, wondering—-thinking—even contemplating what was going on between the two of us.
Because as right as it felt—-was it real? Did he feel the same? Was this practical?
And I for one wasn’t one to be practical, at all.
Authors usually aren’t, and neither are women who go to Ireland on their grandma’s whim.
So it was odd for me to consider anything practical. I usually just went with…feelings.
But I couldn’t help myself.
My writer brain just kept ticking on and on—thinking about the way he felt inside me, thinking about the way he made me so fucking angry that it drove me to lust him—thinking about the way he smiled—the way he opened up—thinking about the way the two of us just felt…right.
But Liam and I were like fire and gasoline. We were both the same in different ways.
And just like the doubts I was having, wondering if this could actually develop into anything…lasting, like true, genuine, storybook love, I’m sure he had the same reservations.
I stared at the blank document on my laptop screen.
Chapter 20.
I’ve written 19 chapters since I’ve been here and I felt like they were gold—pure gold. The characters were solid, believable, dreamy, even. The plot line created investment for the reader. The spicy scenes were extremely detailed and even had some humor to them. It was set to be a best-seller.
And I thought about why I came here in the first place.
I came here to write the best-seller novel that I almost finished, and I was doing the damn thing.
But whatever this was with Liam, had only made things more complicated for me.
And his hot and cold act was confusing.
But sadly, it wasn’t only that—it was the fact that neither one of us had said the word out loud—-love.
Even though I had felt it…I figured maybe just maybe, if he was serious, if this was serious, then maybe he’d realize I could leave any day now and never come back. And maybe just maybe, telling me that he loved me would help me make my choice…to stay.
Let’s be honest, every woman romantizes an overly dramatic scene happening in her life—-one where the boy chases after the girl, in the rain, or in the snow, or even through mud, to stop her from leaving and tells her that he loves her.
It’s what fairytales are made of—or good rom-com novels at least.
And I knew that’s the book I was writing.
I just didn’t know if that was the book I was living.
And the truth is that life is rarely often a fairytale. It’s far from it and with life comes heavy realities. Those realities being—money, employment status and security, fertility, death and all those dreary topics that can make or break a real relationship—no matter how much love there is between two people. Those things can kill love.
And that’s what I was thinking about now.
Reality. The reality of international love with a man who might not be even ready for commitment in the first place.
I let out a heavy sigh as I rested my forehead on the old wood desk.
I never thought I’d be in this position. I’d never thought I’d feel this way. I’d never thought I’d consider moving to Ireland for a…man.
But it was as my Gran warned, love comes when you least expect it. She knew—she probably felt in her old Irish bones that I would meet my match here and be in this exact predicament.
Yet, here I was, a lover of romance, doubting that I’d actually find a man worthy of it. I guess I spent so long dating frogs that I didn’t think I’d ever find my Prince Charming.
It seemed hilarious to compare Liam to Prince Charming. Of all people, he was far from a perfect gentleman, far from a wealthy prince, far from the usual description of love—but he was it for me.
So, I decided that I needed to be honest with Liam.
I needed to tell him how I felt. I knew that was the only way to see if this could work, and if we could be granted our real life happily ever after, after all.
So, I closed my laptop, took in a deep breath, forcing courage into me despite my nerves and headed towards the pub.
On my walk I thought of how I would say it.
Liam, I love you.
No, that’s not right. That’s boring and lame.
Liam, the first day I met you I absolutely loathed you, even though I thought you were hot, but now, I realized hate is the same thing as love.
No, that just sounds confusing.
Liam, I have something to tell you. Awkward pause. I’m in love with you.
A bit dramatic, aren’t we?
I let out a sigh and bit my lip as I walked along the sidewalk.
I didn’t know how to say it.
A writer, who didn’t know how to express love, ironic—figures.
As I entered the pub, my gaze immediately connected with Liam’s, and I gave him a nervous smile. His gaze connected with mine and in that moment I thought of the perfect thing to say.
I’ve fallen for you and I think you have, too. Remember when you told me to say it—to say I belong to you? Well, I do. I belong to you. And you belong to me.
Perfect, I thought, staring back at him, happily.