Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
MAEVE
H umming to myself, I poured the last of the cider into the bottle and placed it beside the ale on the metal table in my distillery. Crouching down, I checked the color, smiling satisfactorily at the golden and amber-hued liquids.
Perfect.
If color was anything to go by, my first batches appeared to have been a success, which was just as well, seeing as we had our friends coming over this evening for a tasting session. Maureen had been cooking up a storm all morning while Callum and Donovan did the last of the painting in the bar, and I bottled up the new drinks. All that was left to do was fix the new light fixtures onto the walls, sand and revarnish the floors, then take delivery of the furniture and set it up, and we’d be all ready for the big night.
A tiny thrill went through my belly at the thought of reopening the bar.
Callum had missed the place being open for business. The Shamrock was in his blood and at the forefront of everything he did. Closing it down for the refurbishment had been hard on him, not just emotionally but financially, too. My husband was a proud man and had paid for everything from his savings and what money the bar had put by, so I knew he was feeling the financial pressure. Callum had invested tens of thousands, and I knew this revamp had to work.
The thought of my big, strong, protective husband sent a delicious shiver down my spine.
Our bedroom shenanigans were a couple of mornings ago, and we’d slept together ever since. The problem was, we were so tired after working down at the bar and distillery all day we fell into bed at different times—me first, with Callum following in the early hours of the morning. Then, I’d get up at seven and go downstairs to check the fermentation, and he’d follow me down a couple of hours later.
It sucked, but at the same time, it was building a kind of sexual tension between us. I’d move past Callum and brush his ass, or he’s squeeze past me and kiss my neck as he went. Our secret smiles, longing looks, and soft touches all added to the sizzling promise of what was to come, and the anticipation was becoming unbearable, but in the best of ways.
I’d catch Callum studying me with glazed eyes across the room, and I knew he was thinking about how I’d made him come with my hand. Or I’d be telling him something, and his gaze would stray down to my breasts, and a soft little smile would appear, making my nipples harden.
Every day, the connection between us grew stronger. When we finally came together, it would be explosive; I could feel it in my blood and bones.
And my clitoris.
Oh... And my nipples, too.
Yippee!
The door opened, and my head jerked around to see Callum saunter into the distillery. He headed straight for me like a man on a mission, with a smirk plastered across his face and a wicked gleam in his eye.
“Perfect timing,” I announced, nodding toward the bottles. “Look what I just poured.”
His reply was to reach out, cup the back of my neck, and tug me against his hard, muscular body. “Have you eaten?” he asked, slowly walking me backward toward the table.
I stutter-stepped, my heart fluttering like tiny bird wings. “Not yet.”
“Mam’s made soda bread and boxty,” Callum murmured, leaning down to softly peck my lips. His hands grabbed my thighs, and he lifted my ass onto the table before he maneuvered himself between my legs. “We’ll take those drinks with us, and we can do a mini-tasting with our lunch.”
Heat curled inside my belly, and I leaned up to return his kiss, breathing, “I love boxty.”
His fingers sifted through my hair. “While I’m on the subject of tastings, why don’t we have an early night tonight? I’ll be back in the apartment by seven. Thought I could double lock the doors, barricade us in, and we could have a night to ourselves without my mam interrupting.”
“Hmm.” I tipped my head back, loving the feel of his hands on me. “That sounds perfect, but we’ve got your friends coming for a tasting session tonight.”
He grinned. “Okay, but I can kick ‘em out by nine.”
Goose bumps trailed down my arms. “Right then.”
He lowered his mouth to my ear. “I can’t stop thinking about you, wife.” He nipped my ear, making me moan softly, then kissed down my neck toward my breasts, his stubble gently scraping my skin. A strong hand curled around my waist and squeezed. “I need to be inside you.”
I felt my nipples pebble, and I sucked in his clean scent of fresh laundry and paint. Everything about him appealed to me on a base level, even his sweat. All my husband had to do was look at me, and I turned into a gooey mess.
“Son... Maeve!” a voice called from the direction of the courtyard.
Callum lifted his head, his eyes sliding to meet mine, and he sighed audibly. “You couldn’t make this shit up. I’m shocked I can still get a boner after getting cockblocked so fucking much by my own mam.” He leaned back slightly and cupped my cheek. “All she talks about is the day we have babies, but then she damned well stops us from making them.”
“Babies?” I breathed, a warm tingle spreading through my belly.
“She wants little ones running around the place.”
My fingers curled tight on his arm because there was nothing I wanted more than Callum O’Shea’s beautiful babies.
“She wants ones just like you,” he went on. “Ginger, cute, and smart. She doesn’t want any more bastard eejits like me and Donny,” he snorted, “her words, not mine.”
I felt the spark light me up inside. “That’s just the sweetest...” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion.
His head reared back, and he searched my eyes with his. “Do you want babies?”
I nodded eagerly, still unable to speak.
He grinned down at me. “Give it a year for me to turn this place around, and I’ll give you some smart, ginger, cute kids.”
I drew a sharp intake of breath, and my chest filled with something I’d never felt before, something light and floaty but substantial enough to fill me up. My husband had just handed me the world, and he didn’t even know it. The last time we discussed our future, he made it clear we had an expiration date. Now he was talking about our family... our forever.
“We better get into the bar.” Callum reached across and tagged the two bottles between the fingers of one hand and held the other one out for me. “Come on, wife. I’ve suddenly got a hankering for Ma’s boxty.”
Placing my fingers in his, I jumped down from the table and allowed Callum to pull me toward the door. “These colors look good,” he commented, holding the drink bottles up to the light. “No cloudiness at all. The ale’s lighter than I thought it’d be; it’s more like a pilsner.”
“That’s what I was aiming for,” I confessed. “I looked at your sales reports and saw you go through more lager-type beer than ale or craft, especially in summer. I thought a pilsner would sell better.”
Callum guided me into the courtyard. “Talking of summer, permission came through from the mayor’s office to set up the tables and chairs out front and down the side of the building. We only need one side for access, so I thought I could put a gate in there and fill the other with furniture. Nobody except us lives on Main Street anymore, other than Tristan, and he doesn’t care about a bit of late-night noise as long as things don’t get too rowdy. On weeknights, we can make sure everybody moves inside by ten.”
“We could make a big flower wall and add a load of plants and flowers to make it like a beautiful fairy garden out there,” I suggested. “Imagine all the girls doing their selfies and posting the pictures online and tagging us. All that free advertising.”
We walked inside the bar, and Callum closed the door behind us. “That’s a damned good idea.”
“They have a place like that in New York and London, too. It’s like a flower oasis in the middle of the city. We could brand ours alongside the bar with shamrocks and ivy and use white and cream flowers. It’ll be the bomb .”
He stopped us just before we hit the bar, pulled me around to his front, and the fingers of his free hand splayed over my waist. He bent his neck to lean down and murmured, “My wife, the entrepreneur.”
“I’ve got so many ideas for the bar, Callum,” I told him earnestly. “There’s so much we can do. You love the place; it’s part of you, and I want it to be successful for your sake. I’m not saying everything I try will work, but we can make it everything you want it to be. I want you to have your dream.”
His eyebrows pulled together. “And what about you? What about your dream?”
My lips quirked. “I get smart, cute, ginger babies who aren’t eejits.”
A look of concern crossed his face. “Is that enough?”
“I also get to write my book,” I reminded him. “I get Ma, Donovan, T, and Ash. I get friends,” my smile widened, “and I get you. That’s all I need.”
“What about your career, Maeve?” he asked. “You’ve worked so hard to get where you are. I never wanted you to give it up for me.”
“It doesn’t mean anything if there’s nobody to come home to at night,” I told him quietly. “All my life, I’ve had everything that meant nothing. Now, I get to have everything that means something, at least to me.”
His beautiful, thick-lashed, dark blue eyes searched mine, obviously not convinced.
“Callum,” I breathed, reaching up to smooth out his frown lines. “It’s fine.”
“For now,” he agreed. “But what if you?—”
I jumped slightly, twisting my neck toward the bar as Ma stuck her head into the corridor, her lips thinning when she saw us talking.
“Move your arses,” she scolded. “Your boxty’s getting cold.”
“We’re coming, Ma,” Callum assured her, nodding toward the bar for me to go first. “Maeve’s bottled up her first batch, so we’re gonna do some tasting.”
We moved into the bar, and Maureen glanced back at me approvingly. “You’re a good girl, Maeve. Can’t wait to try them. Imagine if a brewery does pick them up and wants to take them worldwide. You’ll be famous. It’d be nice for one’a my kids to amount to something. Aislynn will be a famous architect one day, but she’s not there yet, so you being a well-known archeologist is a string to my bow. When you’re a famous businesswoman, too, I’ll get a double whammy.”
“What are ya talking about, Ma?” Callum demanded, holding a chair next to a table laden with boxty, homemade bread, and thick creamy Irish butter in a small dish beside it.
Maureen took the seat opposite. “John and Elise Stone have got two doctors, a lawyer, a teacher, and a hundred babies running around. Granted, I’ve got Aislynn, who’s yet to make her mark, but now I have a doctor, too.” Her eyes flicked to Callum, then to Donovan, who was approaching us from the bar, and her lips pursed.
“Ahh, come on, Mam,” Donny said cajolingly. “I risked my life for my country, me and Cal are both successful business owners, and T’s an up-and-coming racecar driver. You did okay, too.”
She sniffed. “That’s grand, but it’s not the same as having a doctor.” Her gaze slid toward me, and she beamed.
“I’m not a medical doctor, though, Maureen,” I pointed out.
“You’re an ologist ,” she announced. “Everybody knows ologists are the best at everything, and they’re smart like Stephen Hawking. Anthropologist, cardiologist, neurologist,” she jerked her chin at me, “archeologist.”
I bit back a laugh. “You may be onto something there. Professor Hawking was a cosmologist.”
“See!” she exclaimed smugly. “Ologists are the smartest and best, and now I’ve got one, too.”
I reached out and clasped her fingers with mine. “Yes, Mam. You have.”
Callum tipped his head back, muttering, “God fucking help me.”
Donovan took a seat, busting out a laugh.
Maureen dropped my hand and patted it affectionately before reaching across the table to put the food on our plates. “Get it while it’s hot, loves. You know how soggy boxty can get. Then we can get down to trying Maeve’s brew. What time are your friends getting here, boys?”
“About six, Ma,” Callum responded, swiping butter across his soda bread.
“Well, I’ve got picky bits made,” she told him fondly. “I’ll set them out later, then I’ll be off home.”
“Thanks, Ma,” Callum told her.
“Well, people can’t come into our home and not get fed , can they?”
I buttered some soda bread before cutting into my boxty while popping a piece in my mouth and smiling at the banter flying around the table.
I’d never had this before. Well, I did, but it was a long time ago.
My mam and da used to be like this. She’d scold him for being late, and he’d kiss her into submission while I gazed at them with shining eyes from my seat at our kitchen table. The memories and the emotions they evoked were etched into my heart so deeply they were a part of me.
Then I lost it, and I lost everything.
When I told Callum that I’d had everything that meant nothing, I was trying to explain that Patrick gave me everything I ever needed or wanted, but it meant nothing without this.
Love, trust, connection, family. They were the important things, not jewels, clothes, and cars. I’d give up every penny in my bank to keep this, and I’d walk around in rags if it meant I walked alongside people who loved me and had my back.
A big, calloused, warm hand covered mine, and emotion hit the back of my throat. My eyes lifted to meet my husband’s and held true and steady.
Callum’s, however, dipped down to my boobs, and his mouth twisted into a knowing smirk while he shot me a cheeky wink.
I choked back a laugh, thinking how Maureen had it spot on?—
My husband really was an eejit.
I’d been working back in the distillery for about an hour after lunch when Aislynn called me. We spoke most days, so her call wasn’t entirely unexpected, but the subject matter was unwelcome. The second I clicked my cell phone onto the speaker, she shrieked, “What are you wearing for the opening?”
An old, familiar heaviness hit the pit of my belly. “I was going to dig something out of the back of my closet. I have a nice skirt and blouse combo I wore for an important conference once, where I took the lead on a series of lectures about the roles of women in the?—”
“Maeve,” Aislynn interrupted. “No.”
“I’m not really a dress-up kind of girl,” I murmured absentmindedly, leaning over my desk to check something off my ‘list of things to do.’ “Callum wants us all in green, so it’ll be fine. It’s a lovely skirt and blouse. Even my best friend Emily said so.”
“You’re the owner of the Lucky Shamrock’s wife, Maeve,” Ash reminded me gently. “I’m not saying you have to turn into a bimbo, but it’ll be expected that you dress up and look nice. Not just by Callum but the town, too.”
I waved nonchalantly, even though Ash couldn’t see me. “I’m too busy to shop and I’ll slick my hair back the same as my wedding.”
“No, Maeve,” she responded. “Go see Tristan at his salon.”
A nervous lump formed in my throat, and my heart sank. “I can’t keep bothering Tris. He already helped me out with my keratin treatment, and the last time he dressed me, my top was too low, and Callum ended up fighting.”
“That wasn’t Tristan’s fault,” she insisted. “He just wants to make you feel good about yourself, and anyway, the Shamrock opening won’t be full of dickwads who think it’s okay to get handsy with you.”
My brain began to work overtime. “Maybe I will go over there. Do you think he can fit me in? Our party is the hottest ticket in town. He’ll already have back-to-back appointments.”
Ash laughed gently. “He’ll jump at the chance to do the hair of the wife of the owner, who’s also one of the people who’ll make the night a huge success. Plus, he called and told me how much he loves you.”
“He did?” I exclaimed. “That’s so sweet.”
Ash paused briefly before I heard her clear her throat. “What’s this aversion you have to hair and beauty? There’s nothing wrong with wanting to feel good. If you can achieve that by going to the salon, I don’t see the problem.”
That hit hard. “You think I have an aversion to it?”
“Maybe,” she suggested. “Sometimes you seem to look down on it. Like, if you’re attractive and wear makeup, you must be shallow or stupid. I know plenty of women who take time over their appearance but are still intelligent and care about other people.”
“Maybe I do,” I admitted, biting my lip nervously. “Orla, Shannon, and Erin are shallow, and all they care about is how they look. It started with them.”
“That’s understandable,” Aislynn murmured. “But give yourself a break. You’re pretty, and there’s nothing wrong with enhancing your looks. You can still be who you are inside and wear some mascara if it helps boost your confidence. There’s no right or wrong answer here, Maeve. It’s all about personal choice.”
Ash was right. I had been judging others by my own negative experiences with the women of my so-called family. I could’ve kicked myself, especially as I made it a point not to behave in the same way as my adoptive mother and sisters.
“I’ll go over to see the hair genius now,” I told her decisively.
Ash squealed. “That’s my girl. He’ll look after you, so don’t stress, and Maeve...”
I paused. “Yeah?”
“Enjoy yourself. Have fun with it.”
As the line went dead, I smiled and checked the time on my phone screen.
It was two P.M. There was plenty of time to chat with Tristan. I could even ask him to go online with me and help pick a new dress for opening night.
With a newfound sense of lightness to my step, I almost skipped to the door and through the courtyard toward the bar, thinking about my conversation with Ash.
A few things were clicking into place. I definitely equated shallowness with women who cared a lot about their appearance, but that was wrong of me. Aislynn hit the nail on the head when she said it was all about doing what boosts your confidence.
I was so deep in thought that I didn’t initially sense anything was amiss. It was only when I was about to walk through to the back of the bar that I heard the loud giggle.
My head swiveled in the direction of Callum’s office just as another tinkling laugh floated toward me, followed by a shushing sound and Callum grumbling, “Shut the fuck up, Saskia. Someone will hear you.”
My heart exploding made my chest burn so hot and so painfully I could almost feel flames raging inside.
I sucked in a breath.
What is going on?
Slowly, I crept toward my husband’s office. The door was open a crack, and I peered through, my heart contracting painfully at the sight before me.
My husband was sitting in his chair, which had been pushed back slightly to allow the buxom, dark-haired woman to perch on his desk directly in front of him with her jean-clad thighs opened invitingly. Callum rested a hand on each thigh as he looked up at her, his beautiful mouth set in a thin, angry line.
“I told you not to come in here like this,” he bit out. “How long were you lying in wait for me, woman? Now’s not the time or the place.”
“Why?” she spat. “Worried your wife might see us?”
His hand went to his temple, and he rubbed it with a wry grin. “Well, yeah.”
My heart twisted.
“I still can’t believe you went off and married somebody else. All that time we were together, and you just discarded me for some plain Jane nerdy?—”
“Shut the fuck up,” he barked. “I don’t wanna hear it . ”
A wave of nausea hit my belly. Every organ hurt, and I had to hold onto the wall to stop myself from doubling over. I held my breath, watching and aching while the woman leaned forward until her tits almost spilled out of her top.
“I miss you,” she breathed.
Callum’s gaze went right to them before he tipped his head back and groaned. “What the fuck are you trying to do to me here, Sass? I’m married.”
I closed my eyes, praying to everything holy that he’d throw her out, but instead, he leaned forward, sliding his hands around her hips.
Tears hit the back of my eyes.
Why was he touching her the same way he always touched me?
Why wasn’t he sending her away?
“I don’t care,” she murmured. “I know you don’t care about her. You hardly know her.”
Tell her she’s wrong, baby , the voice inside my head begged. Please tell her you care .
But there was just silence.
It felt like somebody had stuck a knife through my heart and twisted it because I knew at that moment that everything he’d said to me, everything we’d built, wasn’t real. Sharing our hopes and dreams, all the talk of babies and forever; it was all a lie.
The woman, Saskia, was one of our waitresses. I’d met her a few days before when she’d waltzed into the bar and immediately started flirting with Callum. I knew we wouldn’t get along, so when she didn’t even give me a fleeting glance, I ignored her right back.
At least now I knew why she hated me.
And I hated her, too.
The fucking slapper.
I don’t know what came over me. One minute, I wanted to burst into tears. The next, my inner bitch reared her head and burst forward. I reached out one finger to gently push the door open.
Two sets of eyes swerved toward me, and Callum rose to his feet.
“Maeve,” he rasped.
“Hey!” I skewered him with a look, and with a voice full of steel, I bit out, “I see you’ve got your hands full there, husband . Should I come back later?”