20
Allison Y.
Spokane, WA
8/10/23
Did anyone else see that?
So I’m standing outside the Moorings taking pictures with my sisters when this insanely gorgeous man comes racing down the street like his ass is on fire and he’s Jack Ryan about to save the earth from a bomb that’s been planted in the pub. And then I notice this isn’t just some random hottie superhero. This is Briggs Murphy. Ireland’s Most Wanted Potato. So I snap a pic of him because who doesn’t want that eye candy for later (winters are long in Spokane). Not that he notices. He’s all yelling some girl’s name like he’s Romeo trying to find Juliet. And then he just disappears into the pub.
And all I could think at that moment was ... Damn. I hope a man runs after me like that one day. #starcrossedloversofinishglass
Maryann and Keith are at O’Hare when Maeve arrives. Her suitcase may be heavy, but it’s nothing compared to her heart. She prepared herself throughout the entire flight for the disappointment on her parents’ faces, but when she comes through the arrival gate, Maryann exhales like she’s been holding her breath since Maeve told her she was coming home. No disappointment, only relief. Seeing that, Maeve cracks, breaks into a run, and falls into their arms.
“It’s OK. You’re home. We’ve got you,” Maryann says, her floral smell so familiar, it eases the ache in Maeve’s chest. She must think Maeve wants to be here. That this is her daughter’s home. That Maeve wants this.
Maeve doesn’t have the guts to tell her mother how she really feels, to break her heart after she caused so much anxiety. She’s too tired even to consider what will happen next.
“We missed you, kid,” Keith says as he takes her bag.
“I’m sorry I ruined your cruise.”
He waves away the apology. “You did your mom a favor. She wanted off that boat about two weeks into the trip. Turns out, Maryann Kaminski isn’t really a cruise person. You gave her the excuse she needed to cut the trip short.”
Maryann swats Keith’s arm, like he’s divulging a secret, but she doesn’t correct him. “I’m a doctor. I should have known traveling around on a floating cesspool wouldn’t be for me. No matter how nice it is.”
Maeve has missed her family’s banter and energy, her parents’ familiarity. But as soothing as it is, it’s not enough to fill the hole in her core. She clutches the elephant, trying to maintain an even keel when all she wants to do is fall apart.
Maryann notices the stuffed animal. “Reminds me of Bubbles. God, you loved elephants so much. Remember the petition you had people sign?” She laughs as Maeve tries not to cry. “Did you pick that up in Ireland?”
At that, the dam breaks, and Maeve crumbles. A single tear slides down her cheek.
“Oh, sweetie! What is it?” Maryann begs.
“There’s something I haven’t told you yet ...,” Maeve squeaks out. “About Liam.”
Maryann’s eyebrows rise, and the smallest flash of fear crosses her face. “Let’s get you home. And you can start at the beginning.”
When Maeve finished college, she and Maryann cleaned out her bedroom and packed up her childhood treasures for storage. All that’s left now is the string of fairy lights around the ceiling.
“Adults should have more twinkle in their rooms,” Maryann says. “Who doesn’t want to look up and feel like they’re sleeping under a night sky? I bet they’d be happier.”
Maeve curls up in her old bed, blaming two weeks’ lack of activity on her jet lag. She has no job. Sonya’s no longer at her apartment. Maeve literally has nothing in her datebook. There’s no reason to get up. She doesn’t check her phone. Physically can’t. If she touches it, she’ll go straight to her photos, and then to Instagram, and then she’ll be in a downward spiral she won’t come back from. So she focuses on the tiny silver lights overhead, waiting for them to work their magic and make her happier.
Maryann and Keith mostly leave her be. They bring food and check on her a few times a day. Maryann reminds Maeve to shower. But everything hurts, and when the pain does lessen for a time, it comes back eventually.
Maryann and Keith know everything: the pub, the list, the presents, the debt. They offer to pay off what Maeve owes, but she refuses. Spencer is Maeve’s problem, and she’ll fix it. She tells her parents about everything, except Briggs. She aches just thinking of his name.
On day fifteen of her seclusion, Maryann tells Maeve she needs to wash the sheets. She suggests that Maeve go for a walk, get some fresh air. So Maeve wanders down the street toward the lake and onto the bike path. Lake Shore Drive is packed with cars and buses. Maeve puts her feet in Lake Michigan, hoping that might ground her. Boats pepper the water, their occupants enjoying the late August sunshine. Chicago is never more alive than in the summer. Maeve waits for the heartbeat of the city to jumpstart her own, but a plastic water bottle washes ashore at her feet, and there’s broken glass everywhere, and graffiti mars the park bench behind her. The noise and exhaust make her head hurt. So she walks, eventually making it to Lincoln Park Zoo. She wanders the exhibits, hoping to see the elephants, but the zoo hasn’t had elephants since 09.
She walks again the next day, and the next. She walks like she’s on a scavenger hunt, searching for the love she once had for Chicago. She walks until her legs hurt and her eyes burn. But the city smells like rotting garbage and dog piss, and the pavement radiates heat up her legs, making them sticky with sweat. Every dirt particle clings to her skin.
On her fourth straight day of walking, Maeve comes home, showers, and is about to climb back into bed when Maryann enters the room carrying a shoe box. She sits at the end of the bed and says, “I saw your grandparents today.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t visited them yet.”
Maryann bats away the apology. “I was there looking for something.” She taps the box.
“What is it?”
“Pictures. Back in the day, you had to get them developed,” she jokes. Maeve tries to laugh. “This box is from when I traveled in Asia.” Maeve sits up. “A few days ago, I remembered something about Liam. We were sitting at the bar, and he said we should take a picture to document the night. He picked up my disposable camera and snapped a selfie of us. We didn’t call them selfies back then. I remember when I got it developed, I laughed. He captured only a small bit of my face and all of his. So I went through the box today and found him. Do you want to see? It’s a little blurry, but ... it’s him.”
Maeve feels her first jolt of energy in three weeks. Maryann opens the box and takes out the picture. And there he is, smiling. Liam is young, with dark hair and bright blue eyes. He seems so happy. Even through the fuzziness, he radiates, like he’s having the time of his life.
“His eyes were the first thing I noticed about him,” Maryann says, barely above a whisper. “They were so beautiful. I was so happy you got them.” Her voice shakes.
“Mom? What is it?”
“I hardly knew Liam, but I could tell, with just one night, how much life he had in him. He was someone you wanted in your orbit. Some people are just built with a gravitational pull.” She looks down at the picture. “It’s hard to believe that he’s gone. It doesn’t seem possible.”
“He talked to me when I was at his grave,” Maeve says quietly. “I know it doesn’t make any sense, since I never met him or heard his voice, but I know it was him.”
“What did he say?”
“‘Thank you.’”
Maryann rests back against the wall. “He told me about his family’s pub. He resented his father for forcing the place on him. I remember him saying that. He felt trapped in a future he had no say over. It’s one of the reasons I never pushed him to take responsibility for you. I let him off the hook because he was already on one. I didn’t want you to be another person he resented. I just can’t figure out why he would leave the pub to you when he never wanted it in the first place. Why pass that pressure on?”
Maeve shrugs, knowing there will always be questions about Liam that will never get answered. “Can I keep this picture?”
“Of course.” Maryann scoots off the bed and heads toward the door. She turns before she leaves. “But the island couldn’t have been that bad. You liked it, right?”
Maeve admits, “I loved it.”
“So maybe in the end, his life wasn’t so bad there. Maybe he ended up loving it more than he thought.”
“My friend Barb told me he had a motto at the end of his life,” Maeve says. “‘Enter laughing.’”
Maryann smiles. “I like that. He had a great laugh.” She lets that lie, but adds, “Maybe that’s the lesson here. Even in the bad times, if we search hard enough, there’s always a reason to laugh, and if we can just hold on to that, maybe it won’t hurt as bad.”
So the next day, three weeks after coming home, Maeve decides to go looking for laughter in a familiar place. The garden apartment, which she’s shared with Sonya since they graduated from college, is stuffy from being shut these past few months. Maeve opens a window, letting in a warm breeze. She plops herself on the couch where she and Sonya spent countless hours drinking wine, laughing, and planning their futures together. She waits to feel the slightest bit of joy from those memories, but all she registers is her best friend’s absence. Maeve is alone. Again.
She hasn’t contacted Sonya since she returned. There’s just so much tension between them right now that Maeve doesn’t even know where to start. But maybe it’s time she tries.
So she texts: Remember when we convinced Victor Beale that after a woman has a baby an umbilical cord grows out of her belly button and for the rest of her life she has to trim it every month?
Sonya replies right away with a laughing emoji. You told him when women breastfeed, they flip their nipples down and spouts come out for the baby to drink from. And he believed you because your mom’s a doctor. DYING.
Maeve laughs out loud for the first time in weeks. She sends three more laughter emojis. They go back and forth, rehashing old memories, Maeve giggling until her stomach hurts.
God, I missed you, Sonya finally texts.
Me too.
Maeve stares at her phone, wondering what will come next.
And then Sonya writes, Will you come over Saturday night?
Maeve doesn’t reply right away. Can she go to Melanie’s apartment, like nothing happened? Or is she so stubborn that she’s willing to give up Sonya? Then again, Maeve’s planner is dreadfully empty, and she needs to start filling her life up again.
Sure. What time?
Yay! 6 p.m. Sonya sends her the address in River North.
Maeve adds the details to her planner, and before she knows it, she’s flipped back three weeks to the day she was meant to meet with Briggs. The day he was going to ask her to marry him. Now she’ll never know if he would have gone through with it. She was prepared to say yes, even after the dinner-party nightmare. But when he never showed, she knew it was over. He would never be late.
She spends the rest of the day at the apartment and texts Maryann that she’s staying the night. She orders from her favorite Thai food place and binges Friends . It’s an improvement over staring at the ceiling in her childhood bedroom, at least. At some point, she’ll need to get another job and find a new roommate.
The next morning, Maeve decides to reorganize her closet. She takes everything out and lays it around the room, but as she stands in front of the empty closet, no vision comes to her. No structure. No plan. Worst of all, she feels no excitement. Not like she did when she fixed up Liam’s place. She looks at her bookshelf of rosewood-pink planners, shelved in chronological order with her initials on the spines. Her diaries of a control freak. The girl who wrote in them doesn’t exist anymore.
Maeve puts on her Cubs jersey and favorite cutoff shorts, thinking that might help put her in the mood. Nothing. She leaves the clothes strewn about and ends up back on the couch watching Grey’s Anatomy .
On her third day at the apartment, Maeve wakes up, still in her Cubs jersey and cutoffs. She emails her landlord, giving him a month’s notice. She may not know where she’s going right now, but she knows she can’t live here anymore. This place was hers and Sonya’s. Without Sonya, it’s too empty. Hopefully Maryann and Keith won’t mind if Maeve squats at their place for a bit longer.
And then right as Maeve is about to leave, there’s a knock on the apartment door. For just a second, she thinks maybe it’s Sonya, wanting to move back in. It’s ridiculous, Maeve knows, but a lot of unexpected things have happened over the past few months.
It’s not Sonya at the door. It’s the last person Maeve expects, and she almost launches herself on him. She can’t believe what she’s seeing. He’s actually here, standing in the doorway, sheepishly smiling, like he’s here to rectify the biggest mistake of his life. It takes all of Maeve’s strength not to wrap her hands around his neck ... and throttle him.
Fucking Spencer.
He looks the same: Midwestern gorgeous, preppy, well-built, his sandy blond hair shaggy but acceptable at a country club. He rubs the back of his neck as he stands there, waiting. “Hi, Maeve.”
For months Maeve has envisioned what she would say to Spencer if she saw him again, what she would do. Put him in a headlock. Break his nose. Spit in his face. Hold him hostage until he gives her every last dime to his name. Kick him in the balls. Or better yet, cut them off. But now, with the moment upon her, she’s frozen. No words come. She’s choking on them.
“Can I come in?” Spencer asks.
Maeve manages a nod, though her heart is screaming for her to poke his eyes out with a fork. Spencer enters hesitantly, like he’s waiting for the roof to fall on his head. Seeing him in here, time seems to jump back one year. Spencer sits on the couch, and it’s like a painting Maeve has looked at a million times. He fits in here, like the picture on the coffee table of Sonya and Maeve at a Cubs game. Like the ancient tea kettle in the kitchen. Like the Willis Tower magnet on the fridge.
Spencer rests back on the couch, his arms wide like he expects Maeve to fall into them. Like she might wipe clean what’s happened in exchange for good sex and an apology. She stands across the room, her arms crossed. Spencer takes the hint and leans forward, his elbows resting on his well-tanned knees. His whole body glows summer bronze. No doubt he spent most of it lounging on a boat or at the pool, not at a desk indoors, working.
“Where’s Sonya?” he asks.
“She doesn’t live here anymore.”
“Holy shit. I thought you two would live together forever.”
“Things change.” Maeve counts her words, promising herself to speak only the bare minimum.
Spencer runs his gaze up and down her body. “Yeah, they do. You look good. Really good.”
“What do you want, Spencer?”
He runs a hand through his hair and swallows hard. “You wore that same outfit the first night I met you. Are you going to a game?”
“None of your business,” she says curtly.
He raises his hands in surrender. “I get it. I wouldn’t want to see me either after what I did.”
“Then why are you here?”
He glances at her with a broken expression and sad brown eyes. “Because I’m sorry. I royally messed up. I hurt you and disappeared.”
“I know all of that. You didn’t have to come here to tell me.”
“I know ...” His jaw clenches. His hands do, too. “I’m here because I’m a coward, Maeve. OK? For the last nine months I’ve been living in my sister’s basement, working at her local country club to earn the money to pay off the debt.”
“You’re working at a country club?”
He nods. “Landscaping. Cutting the grass. Maintaining the greens. I’ve even been bussing in the restaurant at night. I’ll take out the garbage if it’ll earn me a few extra dollars. But I like the landscaping bit. I’m actually good at it. They just offered me a full-time job.”
Well, that explains the tan. “Good for you, Spencer. I’m glad you found your passion. I wish I cared, but it still doesn’t explain why you’re here.”
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a wad of cash. Hundred-dollar bills, a whole lot of them. “I’m here to pay you back. Every cent I spent on that credit card, plus interest.” He counts the money on the coffee table: ten thousand dollars. “I know it’s not everything I owe, but it’s what I’ve made so far. Consider it a down payment as I earn the rest.”
Maeve can’t believe it. It’s too good to be true. “Why should I believe there’s more coming?”
“After what I did, you shouldn’t, but maybe I could explain why I did it, and then, maybe, you’ll trust me enough to know I will pay you back.”
The coil around Maeve eases a bit. She sits in the chair across from Spencer, holding her posture strong. “I’m listening.”
“You were the first girl I ever loved,” he starts.
Maeve scoffs. “You had an odd way of showing it.”
“I know,” he says. “Just hear me out. I loved you. Like really loved you. From the first night I met you. You did something to me I’d never felt before. It was like ... I was pulled into your orbit, and I couldn’t get out. You had a hold on me like I’d never experienced with anyone else. And that scared the shit out of me.”
“I had an orbit?” Maeve says. Just like Maryann said about Liam ...
“You still do,” Spencer says, looking embarrassed. “And the fact that you don’t know it makes it even stronger.”
“So it was all my fault because I sucked you into my orbit and made you love me? And you decided to ruin what we had because you were frightened of your strong feelings? I’ve heard this story before, Spencer, and it’s bullshit. When you love someone, you don’t leave, no matter how scared you are.”
“No!” Spencer furrows his brow. “No, the opposite. I wanted you so badly I was scared you’d leave me . I wanted to impress you. I was afraid you’d leave when you found out what a loser I am. So I pretended not to be. Turns out, not being a loser takes a lot of money. I figured I’d just max out my credit cards, but I couldn’t keep up. And since your credit was good, I opened a card in your name, justifying that every penny would be spent on you. I know, my logic was fucked up, but at the time, it made sense. I was desperate. I reasoned that it wouldn’t be that big a deal when I eventually told you because I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. I thought you’d think it was ... sweet, actually.”
“Sweet?”
“I know ...” Spencer rubs his forehead. “Even well-intentioned lies are never justified. I know that now. I should have just told you the truth. We’d still be together if I had. Instead, I ruined us.”
“And you left me to deal with it alone.”
“By the time I realized how badly I screwed up, it was too late. I couldn’t pay my bills, the rent, let alone the credit cards. My roommates kicked me out. I knew you’d wonder why, and I had already lied so much. You’d dump me. Hate me. I couldn’t face that. I was ashamed and embarrassed, so I ran like a coward. I went back to Michigan and moved in with my sister. But I always planned to pay the debt back. I just needed to earn enough money to prove to you that I’m serious. I’ve been trying to see you for almost three months now. I’ve come here at least ten times, but you’re never home. And I knew if I texted, you might not believe me. You might think it was another scam. I needed to see you in person.”
Three months . . .
Maeve glances at the ten thousand dollars on the table. Is that enough money to forgive Spencer? Is there a price tag on forgiveness?
“I swear, I never meant to hurt you. I really did love you, Maeve. I just didn’t love you the way I should have. I’m sure these past few months have been hell, all because of me. You deserve better. I knew the first night I met you I was playing well above the rim.”
It would be so easy to let him off the hook. Maeve believes his confession. Why come back and lie to her now, after all these months? Everything he’s said—about taking the credit card out in her name so he could take her on an extravagant trip to Mexico—makes sense. The pieces fit. And these past few months haven’t been hell. They’ve actually been the best of her life. In the oddest way, if Spencer hadn’t left her in debt, she might not have gone to Ireland because she wouldn’t have needed Liam’s inheritance. In the most twisted way, Maeve found Briggs because she loved Spencer first. Maybe he deserves her thanks for that.
Or maybe he fucking doesn’t.
Maeve swipes the money off the table. “This is a start, but I expect more every month until it’s all paid off. No exceptions.”
Spencer nods. They come up with a system: He’ll Venmo her, and she’ll use the money to pay down the credit card. Any money she’s already paid to debt collectors, he’ll pay back, too. And all the interest. In the end, they shake on it. Spencer looks at their interlocked hands and smiles. He used to be so familiar to her. She knew the first sound he made in the morning and the last sigh before he fell asleep.
Maeve clasps her hands in her lap. “Well, that’s it.”
“That’s it,” Spencer agrees, his eyes downcast. Maeve ushers him to the door, but before he leaves, he says, “You might be dressed the same, but you’re different. You’re not the same girl I met at the bar.”
“Sorry to disappoint.”
“Disappoint?” Spencer says, his eyebrows raised. “I can’t believe I let a girl like you get away. Biggest mistake of my life. Just know, whoever you end up with, Maeve ... I fucking hate him.”
Later that night, back with her parents, Maeve gets an email from Eoin.
Kaminski—
Rumor is you’re back in Chicago. No goodbye kiss? You left before I could give you this (see attached). Also, I just received the offer from Henry for the Moorings. It’s generous. I’m forwarding it to you now. The decision, ultimately, is yours.
Please advise.
—Asshole
The attachment is a scanned letter. Maeve recognizes the handwriting immediately.
Dear Maeve,
If you’re reading this, you’ve completed the list, which means it’s high time I explain myself. Why would I make you do those foolish things before you could take ownership of the pub? You probably assumed it was my way of convincing you not to sell it. If I could hold you hostage on the island long enough, you’d fall in love with the place, right?
But the thing is—I don’t want that for you.
Why the hell did I make you do it then? The answer is simple. So you could walk away without any regrets. I wanted you to experience the island, the people, your family, so you could leave it behind and not wonder if you made the right choice. I know that kind of regret and it’s bloody awful. I don’t want that for my daughter.
So, I have one last request: Walk away. Go live your life somewhere else. Sell the pub knowing it was the right decision and I’m glad you did. I want a big life for my little girl. Go find it. Don’t limit yourself to our tiny island. You’ve experienced the best of it. Now put it in the past. It’ll always be there for you if you want to come back and visit.
Be bold, Maeve. Take risks. Life is shorter than you think. Don’t waste it. And when it’s finally time for us to meet in the afterlife, I’ll be waiting. I hope you enter laughing.
Love,
Da
Maeve reads and rereads the letter, sobbing in her bed, but this time Briggs isn’t here to hold her. She’s dreadfully alone, with no idea what to do next.
Sonya opens the door, shocked. “You’re late, Maeve.”
“Sorry.” Maeve lugs herself inside.
“You’re never late. I thought maybe you weren’t coming.”
“I lost track of time.”
Sonya notices Maeve’s poorly painted nails. “Oh my God.” Then she takes in the wrinkled outfit that Maeve slept in. “Oh. My. God.” She launches herself at Maeve and runs a hand up two weeks’ worth of hair growth on her unshaven leg. “ Oh. My. God. What the hell is happening?”
“Wine,” Maeve whimpers. “Don’t bother with a glass.”
“Melanie!” Sonya yells toward the kitchen. “We have an emergency!”
An hour later, Maeve is reclined on the couch like she’s in a therapy session. Half the bottle is gone, and the whole story’s out in the open.
“That Eoin sounds like a real dick,” Melanie says. “And I should know. Being a dick was my specialty.”
Melanie is different than Maeve remembers. Softer. And the way she looks at Sonya, like she’s gazing at the most precious piece of art in the whole wide world, tells Maeve everything she needs to know. She should have trusted her best friend. Sonya may be wilder than Maeve, more willing to take a chance, but she’s smart. She knows bullshit when she sees it.
“I can’t even blame Eoin,” Maeve says. “I’m the one who lied to Briggs. Eoin just capitalized on it.”
Sonya sits at the end of the couch, Maeve’s feet in her lap, and speaks for the first time since Maeve started into the story. “I’m confused. Why are you here?”
Maeve sits up a little, her brain light with alcohol. “Because you invited me.”
“No.” Sonya waves the words away. “I don’t mean here . I mean in Chicago.”
“Briggs didn’t come, Sonya! I waited, and he didn’t come. I got my answer.”
“Um, no, you didn’t,” Sonya says.
“How do you figure?”
“He never said he didn’t want you.”
“He was supposed to show up and propose ,” Maeve says forcefully. “He obviously changed his mind.”
“Or he got caught up with something. People are late all the time, Mae.”
“Caught up in what?” she counters.
“I don’t know ...” Sonya shrugs. “Traffic?”
Maeve is about to tell her how ridiculous that notion is when she remembers Eoin ... her first night on the island ... his excuse for being late. Traffic .
The sheep.
Maeve stands up in shock, her head spinning with wine and revelation, and immediately sits down again. “But he hasn’t contacted me at all.”
“So?” Sonya says. “Neither have you. And you left, Mae. I mean, what is he supposed to think?”
Maeve can’t believe what she’s hearing, and yet it makes perfect sense. Her words to Spencer come back to haunt her. When you love someone, you don’t leave, no matter how scared you are .
She did the very thing Spencer did to her. She left without a word. She abandoned Briggs without explanation. And here she is, sitting in Chicago, acting like it’s his fault.
“Fuck!” Maeve yells. “What do I do?”
“Are you seriously asking that question?” Sonya says. “Come on, Mae. Give yourself a little credit. You’re the girl with a plan. If there was ever a person who knows what to do with a mess, it’s you. Now go back to Ireland and clean this up.”
Maeve launches herself at Sonya and Melanie, hugging and thanking them both. “I need to buy a plane ticket,” she says, her mind swirling.
Melanie raises her hand. “I can help with that.” Within minutes, she has Maeve booked on the next flight out, tomorrow afternoon. Business class.
“Seriously?” Maeve asks.
“As a thank-you,” Melanie says. “For giving me a second chance.” She smiles at Sonya, and Maeve sees it again. Real, raw love.
Maeve opens her email and sends a response to Eoin.
Hey Asshole,
Tell Henry I’m not selling.
Maeve
PS. Don’t even think about walking into the Moorings ever again or I’ll tell the whole town what you did to Aoife.
When she gets back to her parents’ house, Maeve tells Maryann and Keith everything, including about Briggs.
“So the rumors are true?” Maryann teases. “You and Briggs Murphy. I was wondering when you were going to come to your senses.”
“How do you know about him?”
“After you told us everything, I did a little digging.” Maryann touches her daughter’s cheek. “Babcia’s pierogi. A culinary hit in Ireland! Who would have thought? I’m so proud of you, honey.”
“You’re seriously OK with this?”
“It doesn’t matter if I’m OK with it,” Maryann says. “It matters that you are. It’s cliché, but Keith and I just want you to be happy. Plus, now that I’ve read so much about him, I need to meet this Briggs. He’s quite the legend.”
“Don’t believe everything you read, Mom,” Maeve says. “But in Briggs’s case ... it’s true.”
The next morning, Maeve heads to O’Hare. She sits in the back seat, fidgeting, running her hands up and down her smooth legs. When her phone chimes with a text, she’s excited to see Barb’s name on the screen.
You need to come back, Maeve.
Barb only has one tone. She’s not reaching out because she misses Maeve. Something has happened.
Is it Niall???
No.
Maeve exhales some of the tension from her shoulders, but then another text comes through, and she gasps.
It’s Briggs.