Chapter 27
CHAPTER 27
CALLUM
I t had been just over a week since Maeve kicked me out of our apartment.
I worked every hour I could. Not only at the bar but also helping Donovan work on his gym. I kept my head down and spoke only when spoken to. When I did talk, it was one-word answers and short replies to specific questions.
My friends were worried about me, I couldn’t eat, and I hardly slept, but I didn’t care about myself. All I could think about was Maeve.
I grabbed a few hours of shuteye here and there, but I mostly lived on my nerves and strong coffee. When I dreamed, it was always about my wife, which was incredible until I woke up and remembered we were over, and my heart ripped apart all over again.
Sometimes, I wished I’d never met her. At least back when I was alone and closed off, I was safe from feeling pain. Still, the thought of never knowing her, of never experiencing what she gave me, would have been a tragedy, even though she’d left me a goddamned mess when she ended it.
Ma, Aislynn, Tristan, and the Speed Demon women weren’t talking to me. Though, thankfully my buddies rallied, and everybody else rallied around my wife, which I thought was good of them. Maeve needed to know how much she was loved, and I knew it was only those connections keeping her in town.
Donovan told me about the contract she was offered to head up a dig in the UK, and I panicked that she’d take off and I’d never see her again. It was why I fought against every instinct screaming at me to go to her and, instead, stayed away. I didn’t want to give her any excuse to leave, and I knew if I kept trying to see her and talk to her, she’d run.
So, I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.
I wanted Maeve back and knew I needed to put in the work to make her forgive me, but if I tried, I ran the risk of scaring her off. Abe sat me down and told me to give her space, and seeing as Abe Decker was the smartest—and probably sanest—man I knew, I took his advice.
If only for now.
However, my position was tenuous at best. Even though I did everything Maeve asked of me, I was well aware she could up and leave me at the click of her fingers, and that knowledge made my gut pang nervously every minute of every day.
I just had to pray to God that my wife would yearn for me the same way I yearned for her. I had to hope she’d remember the way we were together and how good everything was. I had to trust in us and her and believe she knew deep down how much I loved her—mind, body, and soul.
I had to keep the faith and hope she did the same.
The weekends after the big party were going nearly as well as opening night. Our new entertainment came in the form of a local DJ who’d come in and asked for a chance to show me what she could do.
Chloe played me her mixes, and I immediately recognized she had talent, so I gave her a spot, which, luckily, paid off. The place was popping, and the atmosphere was cool and sexy. Different and more chill than when the band played, but just as engaging.
Donovan supervised security, and Tadhg—who was staying in town for the holidays—managed the floor. The Speed Demons and their women were in again, though the women commandeered a table by the fire with Tristan while the men stood shooting the shit at the bar.
The blow-up between Maeve and I had an impact on everybody. Sophie wasn’t talking to Atlas on account of his gossiping ways, and even Layla wasn’t in the best of moods with Bowie. My buddies may have discussed my marriage between themselves, but it seemed their women had been kept in the dark as much as mine had, so it wasn’t just my relationship in the shitter.
“Have you kept my crates back?” Atlas demanded, taking a swig of his bottle of cider.
“One so far,” I confirmed. “I’ll see what I have left on Christmas Eve, but I daren’t keep more back in case we need ‘em.”
“I asked for three,” he muttered.
“Well, I can’t promise, bud, seeing as the woman who’s brewing won’t even fucking look at me,” I snapped. “We’re lucky she’s providing us with any booze at all after everything that’s happened.”
“Yeah, Mouth Almighty,” Breaker murmured, sipping his water. “You’ve only got yourself to blame.”
“I didn’t know it was a state fuckin’ secret, did I?” the SAA retorted, jerking a thumb at me. “He should have told me Maeve wasn’t clued in on his shenanigans.”
“For someone whose entire job centers around keeping their trap shut, you flap your gums incessantly when it comes to other people’s business,” Cash muttered from beside Atlas. “I hope you’ve taken your bullshit on board this time.”
“Yip.” Atlas looked down sheepishly. “I’m gutted that I’ve hurt Toots’s feelings. Saw her in the street the other day, and I thought she was gonna start fuckin’ weeping. Her eyes were red, and she looked like she hadn’t slept for a week.” He sucked air in through his teeth. “Felt like a real fucknut.”
My shoulders drooped resignedly. “It’s not your fault. I was the one who wasn’t honest. It’s on me, nobody else. You wouldn’t have been talking if I hadn’t given you something to gossip about. Can’t blame anybody but myself for this fuck-up.”
The boys shot me pitiful looks.
“When was the last time you spoke to her?” Bowie asked.
I took a pull of beer to try and clear the lump from my throat. “Day she threw me out.”
Cash’s lips twitched. “Still can’t believe she kicked you outta your own apartment.”
I shrugged. “What was my alternative? Let her walk the streets? Nah!”
“Bet your mom’s being frosty as fuck,” Breaker muttered. “She loves Maeve.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “More than me, it seems, seeing as my ma wouldn’t put me up. She’s well and truly in Maeve’s corner.”
“Where you crashin’?” Atlas asked, his forehead furrowing questioningly.
“With Donovan above the gym,” I admitted.
“But he’s got no fuckin’ furniture.” Cash laughed.
“He’s gotta La-Z-Boy, and I went out and bought a blow-up bed,” I mumbled. “We shower in the gym.”
“Jesus Christ,” Breaker exclaimed. “Can you imagine being nearly forty years old and havin’ to crash at your little brother’s fuck pad on a blow-up bed?” He pressed his lips together to stop himself from laughing.
“Donny goes to his women’s places,” I informed him haughtily. “It’s not like I watch him fucking his harem.”
Cash chuckled.
Bowie grinned down at his boots.
Breaker busted out laughing. “It’d be like one of the ol’ lady’s romance books. Brothers and their buddies, all having a fine ol’ time with their woman.” He clicked his fingers, trying to remember something. “What do they call it?”
“Why choose,” Cash replied.
“Why choose what?” Atlas asked, obviously lost in the convo, though admittedly, I wasn’t far behind him.
“It’s a romance book genre,” Cash informed him. “Why choose or reverse harem. They’re books about a group of guys and one chick.”
Atlas’s head reared back, his eyes widening. “Say what now?”
Cash nodded sagely.
“You mean like a train?” Atlas asked.
“Yeah, but no,” Cash explained, clear as mud. “They all fuck the chick, but they’re in a relationship. The dudes are in love with the girl. A train’s more...” He paused to think of the word. “Bikery.”
The men snickered.
“Do the dudes fuck each other?” At demanded.
“Sometimes,” Breaker interjected. “There are genres within the genre. MFM, MMF, MFMM, MFMMM, and so on. Though I’m not exactly an expert.”
He shook his head at me slowly. “I don’t have a Scooby fuckin’ Doo what you’re talkin’ about. What the fuck do ya mean by MFM, MC, MCMF, ABC, and XY fuckin’ Z?”
Breaker leaned his hip against the bar. “It’s all I’ve got. If you want the deets, you’ll have to ask one’a the women.”
Atlas tipped the neck of his cider bottle toward Breaker. “I cannot fuckin’ believe that our ol’ ladies read books where the sex scenes are like a goddamned free for all, and not one of you fuckers has clued me in on it? I always tell you shitheads everything .”
“Don’t I fuckin’ know it,” I muttered pointedly under my breath.
“Does Toots read those kinda books?” he demanded, his head snapping toward me.
My mind went back to the conversation where Maeve told me how she lost her virginity to a vibrator, and my cock stirred for the first time in a week. “Probably.”
Atlas almost fell back against the counter. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
My stare swept through my friends. Donovan would fucking love this conversation. He was almost as loo-lah as these assholes. I could only imagine what their conversations in their biker meetings were like if this one was anything to go by.
Oh, to be a fly on the wall.
“Boss,” Adam called, raising his voice over the thumping music. “We’re getting low on your beer.”
“Better go re-stock,” I told the guys. “You fuckers are going through this stuff faster than we can make it.”
“It’s good shit,” Bowie agreed, taking a swig.
I turned to walk behind the bar when the doors opened. A flash of red hair caught my eyes, and I froze as Maeve scurried in from the street. Immediately, our stares caught, and I watched her body lock as she took me in.
My heart began to race at the sight of my wife standing before me, looking no less welcome than an oasis in the middle of a hot desert to a man dying of thirst. That was what being without Maeve was to me—like somebody had taken away my life force, and I was slowly fading without her.
One side of her mouth quirked into a sad smile, and she raised a hand awkwardly.
I lifted my hand back and did a glass-to-mouth motion with my hand.
She inclined her chin shyly and turned toward the table where her friends sat, giving Tristan a one-armed hug before taking the seat he’d pulled out for her beside him.
Mae looked good. She was a little pale, a little thinner, and a little sad, but she was still so fucking beautiful and still so fucking mine.
Wrenching my eyes from her face, I turned toward the bar and motioned for Adam to get Maeve a Coke before heading out back to the shed to grab a couple of crates of freshly bottled beer.
Maeve had still been working at fermenting and bottling the booze, as evidenced by the stacks of crates that magically appeared in the bottle shed when I went in to check stock every morning. It was just like her to keep looking after me, even though I didn’t look after her as I should have. I hadn’t seen her around, but she started work earlier than me, and by the time she left, I’d already opened up for the evening shift. All she had to do was slip in and out the back door, and I’d never know she was there.
After hauling the crates in, I went behind the bar and down on my haunches to stock the fridges while simultaneously handing bottles up to Adam as he kept up with orders.
Maeve’s giggle-snort filtered across the bar, and my shoulders slumped at the pure relief I felt because somebody had made her laugh.
But still, hearing it cut me deep.
I missed her so much. Being without her was slowly killing me. It was Christmas in a few days, and I’d be alone. My mam was hosting her usual big lunch, but I wasn’t invited this year because Maeve would be there, and Mam thought it would be awkward.
Still, I was happy my woman would get to experience something good. I’d have rather boiled my own head than allowed her to spend Christmas alone, and I knew Mam, Ash, and my brothers would look after her. One year on my own wouldn’t kill me, and I could always open the bar for a few hours or even go over to the Speed Demons’ clubhouse if my thoughts turned dark.
I’d be grand.
With the fridges fully stocked again, I stood to my full height and immediately noticed Maeve’s Coke sitting on the bar, ready to go. The waitresses were busy at tables, so without thinking, I grabbed it and walked back out onto the floor.
“Wish me luck,” I muttered to Bowie as I strode past, making a beeline for Maeve and her friends. It was like walking into a lion’s den, made even worse by Tristan, who caught my eye and shot me an icy glare as I approached.
He leaned down and whispered something in Maeve’s ear, which made her eyes shoot up to meet mine.
I held her Coke up for her to see before placing it on the table. “The waitresses are busy, so I thought...” My voice trailed off, and I shuffled my feet when I realized every eye at the table was trained on me and not in a way that said, Hey, Cal, pull up a chair and take a load off.
“Well then, I’ll just...” I pointed toward the bar.
“You do that,” Tristan muttered coldly, taking a sip of cider.
Maeve elbowed him gently in the ribs before smiling up at me. “Thank you for bringing my Coke over, Callum O’Shea.”
My throat tightened.
I hated her calling me by my full name. She’d explained why she used to do it, so I knew it represented a time when we were disconnected, back when she viewed me differently.
Jaw tightening, I threw her a nod and went to walk away.
Maeve grabbed my hand to stop me, and I looked down into her cosmic eyes. “Thanks,” she whispered.
My gut settled for the first time in days.
“Anytime,” I murmured, squeezing her fingers before she dropped my hand.
Just like the walk to the table, the walk away from it was daunting because I knew my fuck-up was about to be the hot topic of conversation. However, not one person at that table wished me ill intentions. As much as I knew they weren’t happy with how I’d gone about things, I also knew they’d root for mine and Maeve’s happiness.
Even Tristan.
My face must’ve conveyed everything I felt because Atlas held my eyes as I walked back toward them. “You okay?” he asked on my approach.
I gave him a terse nod, hoping my throat would stop aching enough for me to speak.
“At least she’s here,” Breaker pointed out. “If she didn’t wanna see you, she’d have met the girls somewhere else.”
That was true, at least.
I craned my neck to see Maeve and all her friends huddled together and going by their body language, their conversation was terse.
“They’ll be putting her right,” Cash assured me, throwing Cara a wink across the room. “Nobody wants to see you fail.”
I turned back to the bar and nodded at Adam, signaling for another beer, not really knowing how to respond. I’d really fucked everything up, and I didn’t know how to put it right. Romantic gestures seemed too contrived. What I wanted ran deeper than that. I wanted to show her she could trust me, how sorry I was, and how much I loved and needed her. It wasn’t about weaseling my way back in there; I genuinely yearned to make things right.
“I’ve made a decision,” Atlas declared.
“Oh fuck,” Bowie muttered.
“Feel bad about hurtin’ Toots’s feelin’s,” he announced, ignoring Bowie, “So I’m gonna do somethin’ nice.” A wide grin spread across his face. “Gonna make her a mix tape. Atlas’s mix tape two point oh.”
“Oh Jesus.” Cash sighed.
Atlas took a swig of cider. “It’ll work a treat. I’ll do it full of sorry songs.”
My lips twitched because it was so Atlas. The tape he made back in the day for Sophie, although cheesy as fuck, was legendary and exactly the kind of thing that would make Maeve cry out ‘ awesome ’ in that cute way she did.
“She’ll love that,” I rasped.
His mouth thinned, and a big, beefy hand raised to rest on my shoulder. “I’m worried about ya, bud.”
To my horror, my throat heated, and I had to fight back the tears.
Nobody had offered me comfort since all this went down, not that I felt I deserved it. But Atlas offering me kindness brought out my emotional side.
“I’m okay,” I croaked. “Think I’m shellshocked more than anything.”
“This is where your da would usually have your back, right?”
I nodded, scared to speak because I knew my voice would break.
It was weird Atlas brought that up because, for the last week, I’d missed Da more than ever. So much had happened since his death: the debt, the wedding, the marriage, the bar reopening, and now the break-up. I hadn’t taken the time I needed to grieve. My feelings about him were confused. I loved my aul fella, but the things he did to me over the years affected me more than I ever realized. Now, I had to deal with his and Paddy’s manipulation tactics on top of the unresolved frustration I already had, and I didn’t mind admitting it was a lot.
Also, Atlas was right. This was where Da would’ve come into his own. Even though I was the one who fucked up, he would’ve called out my shit and then supported me unwaveringly, and I missed having that. Not having my da at my back left me feeling lost.
Scraping a hand across my jaw, I took a deep breath, hoping it would help me keep my shit tight. “I miss my da, but I’m pissed at him, too. I got Maeve, if only for a while, but he played puppet master with me, too. I dunno what to feel. I’m up and down like a whore’s drawers.”
“Why don’t you go talk to Mitch?” Cash suggested. “He helped me deal with my demons.”
Mitch was our town shrink slash counselor. He was a good guy, young, smart, and on my wavelength. He’d helped the Stones understand a lot of their deep-rooted issues and found the right help for Kit when he was suffering the worst of his PTSD.
“I’ve thought about it, and it’s an option, but a lot of what I’m feeling is normal grief. I’m going through all the usual stages, but I think all this turmoil with Maeve is just making me more emotional.”
“I get it,” Atlas assured me. “Look, I know you think I’ve gotta big mouth—and I’ll admit, on this occasion, you’d be right—but I’m a good listener, and I can keep shit to myself. Always here if you need a powwow, Cal. You’re a stand-up guy who made a mistake, so stop beatin’ yourself up so much. Nobody’s perfect.” He waggled his eyebrows playfully. “Not even me.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Thanks, dude.”
He jerked his chin toward the table full of our women. “Now, what ya gonna do about your Mrs?”
My gut clenched. “Fuck knows.”
“You got her a nice gift for Christmas?” Cash asked from his stool beside Atlas. “I know it doesn’t make up for everythin’, but it’s a start.”
“Yeah,” I confirmed. “Goin’ over to Mapletree tomorrow to pick it up. Ma said she’ll put it under the tree for me, and she’ll give it to Maeve Christmas morning.”
“You comin’ over the clubhouse to eat with us?” Bowie asked.
“Can I play it by ear?” I replied. “I may open the bar for a few hours for the waifs and strays who are on their own over the holidays. I know it was Da’s tradition, but I wanna carry it on, at least for now. Da always said that Christmas and New Year are magical for most but can be the loneliest times for some.”
Bowie gave me a tight-lipped smile. “No problem.”
I sat back to survey the room, making sure everyone was okay and having a good time.
The air was filled with the thud of music, the chinking of glasses, and the sweet sound of laughter, and the place was packed with people rocking out to Chloe’s tunes.
Tristan twirled Layla and Cara around the dance floor as if they were auditioning for Dancing With the goddamned Stars while Sophie and Kennedy looked on laughing. My eyes sliced toward the table where Maeve sat alone and locked with her cosmic blues.
You okay? I mouthed.
She smiled sadly and nodded.
My mouth moved again. I miss you .
Maeve’s chin dipped, and she looked up at me through her eyelashes, nodding again.
I studied her face and body, committing her to memory in case it would be another week before I saw her again. Her hair was smooth, but her curls burned like copper in the golden lights of the bar, and her face was lightly made-up and pretty. Most women in the place wore tight outfits and sexy tops, but Maeve, in her ripped jeans and off-the-shoulder sweater, was the only girl in the bar who made my heart beat faster.
She gestured upstairs and mouthed, I’m going now.
My gut sank, but my lips quirked and formed the words, Take care.
Maeve downed her Coke, got to her feet, and gave me a little wave.
“I’ll see her upstairs,” Bowie declared from beside me.
“Thanks, bro,” I muttered, watching as Bowie made his way to the doors after Maeve. I wanted to be the one who saw her up the stairs and made sure she was safe. I yearned to kiss her goodnight and make her go inside the apartment, only to wait for the locks to click before walking away.
I’d lost that privilege, though. I hadn’t taken care of my wife, and although it was done inadvertently, I’d also disrespected her along the way.
Maybe I should’ve done her a favor and walked away. Perhaps I should’ve let her meet a nice, safe guy who’d give her a nice, secure life. A man without my baggage and hangups. A dude whose past didn’t keep rearing its ugly head and make her feel like shit.
Except, I couldn’t.
Maeve had come into my life because she was mine. Da knew it, and although I didn’t agree with his methods, I could only feel grateful he’d brought her to me. He’d done the impossible, and now I had to do the same and keep her by my side.
But what could I do to show her I knew her? That I’d taken notice and seen her beauty within?
What was it about Maeve that made her stand out from the crowd?
What was it that made her tick?
What did she love?
What touched her soul?
An idea suddenly began to form in my head, and for the first time in days, a true, genuine smile spread slowly across my face.
There was more to getting my wife back than grand gestures—I knew that. Maeve would respond, but only to a certain point. If I wanted a second chance, I’d have to put the work in and show her real change.
Still, I was up for the challenge. I loved my wife; she’d shone her light on me and saved my soul. There was no way I’d let her go without a damned good fight.