Chapter 35
Chapter Thirty-Five
Maeve lay in bed thinking about the previous day at the fair.
Dancing with Brodie in front of everyone, Old Mr. Zimmerman encouraging her to let her hair down and have some fun.
It made her roll her eyes up at the ceiling.
Then she remembered the feeling of being pressed so close to Brodie, his hand wrapped around hers, the angle of his jaw as she looked up at him, the feel of his laugh vibrating through her chest. She pulled the quilt up over her head to try and hide from both the tingling excitement and the cringing mortification at having been watched by the Carters and Zoey.
She took a calming breath and let the quilt come down a fraction so she could see again, and looked up at the ceiling rose as she remembered him giving them a ride home. It made her wonder if Martha had planned the offer of a ride to the fair for exactly that reason.
Brodie had walked them up the path to her front door. Zoey ran off inside to display her third-place rosette in her bedroom, and Maeve said, “I think she had a great day.”
Brodie leaned against the veranda post and with a tilt of his head, said, “See, you gotta love the fair.”
Then there was a pause, both awkward and expectant, hanging between them like ripe fruit.
Maeve found herself suddenly shy, smiling but trying not to.
She glanced back into the house and, thinking that it suddenly looked a little dark and lonely compared to the zinging, almost unbearable tension out there on the veranda, found herself saying, “Did you want to come in for a cup of coffee or something?”
Brodie seemed uncharacteristically hesitant at the suggestion, which made her say, “You don’t have to!”
As quickly as she’d glimpsed it, the reticence vanished, and she wondered if she’d just been paranoid as she watched the corner of Brodie’s mouth tip up and he said, “I appreciate the offer but—” he paused, with a slow smile “—I wouldn’t want you to think I had a reputation.”
Maeve bit her lip, looked down at the scuffed wooden floor and smiled at the shared joke, aware however of an underlying shiver of disappointment.
Then Brodie had reached forward, lifted her hand and kissed the back of it, looking up as he did, back to his normal flirtatious self. “Goodnight, Maeve.”
When he’d let go, she could still feel his lips on her skin. “Goodnight, Brodie.”
Now, as she lay in bed, Maeve caught herself grinning like an idiot. She got up, shaking her head at herself in despair but not without stealing a glance at the back of her hand, running her thumb over the skin.
Zoey was still snoring. Brodie was coming to take her to a basketball game. Maeve had to be in work in an hour and a half.
She’d had a shower, was changed and putting the coffee on when she checked her phone.
There was message after message, piling up from all her friends, people she hadn’t spoken to in years, including moms at Zoey’s school. There was one from Janette Rogers that just read, OMG, Maeve! with a shocked-face emoji and a link to a gossip website.
Maeve hardly dared let her thumb press on the link. Her skin was on fire, her mind racing. She felt the shot of adrenaline as the story loaded and then a sudden cold shiver at the picture itself and the headline:
PLAIN JANE SNARES brODIE CARTER WITH LOVE CHILD!
Like a fortress locking down, she felt every barrier she had click firmly into place.
The main photograph was of her and Brodie walking to the park, Zoey holding both their hands. Zoey’s face was blurred out, but she’d obviously said something funny because Maeve and Brodie were both laughing, looking dotingly down at their daughter.
They’d clearly waited to run the story until they got the other money shot—Brodie and Maeve dancing face to face at the Summer Fair, her cheeks flushed, hair mussed from the carnival rides, Brodie looking as slick as a movie star in his shirt and tie, Zoey’s grinning face in the background.
Maeve thought she might be sick.
The doorbell went.
She went to open it, fearful it might be reporters, but it was Brodie, early for a change, back to his normal casual self in blue jeans and a white T-shirt.
“Have you seen it?” she said, her hand trembling on the door lock.
Brodie shrugged. “I’ve seen it.” He walked inside like nothing had happened.
“Are there photographers out there?” she asked, peeking her head out before she shut the door.
Brodie paused. “Maeve, have you seen who published the pictures? We are not headlines news! If there’s anyone out there, it’ll just be one or two max.”
“That’s one or two too many!” she replied, unable to believe how casual he was being. “This is my life,” she hissed. “Zoey’s life!”
“You’ll get used to it.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to get used to it.”
“Well…” He held his hands out like it was too late for that. Then he said, “Is there coffee?”
She followed him into the kitchen.
“Where’s Zoey?” he asked.
“She’s still asleep.”
“Man, I wish I could still sleep like her,” he said, getting a mug from the cupboard. “When I’m awake nowadays, I just have to get up.”
“Brodie!”
He stopped pouring coffee for a second. “Sorry, did you want one? I figured you already had one.” He opened the cupboard to get another cup.
“Brodie! Our photograph is online. I have moms from the school messaging me! People from the hospital! You’re saying there might be one or two reporters outside, like that’s nothing. Well, it’s not nothing to me. I don’t want them there.” She pulled out a chair and sat down with a sigh.
Brodie placed a mug of coffee in front of her, made, she had to note, just as she liked it, then went and sat down in the chair opposite her.
“Just smile, Maeve,” he said. “That’s all you gotta do.
Smile and say hi and keep walking. It’s only if they think you’re hiding something that they’re real interested, that’s when they get excited.
That’s why they like the picture of Zoey.
” He took a slug of his coffee then sat back, arm looped round the back of the chair. “And, well, that’s done now, so…”
Maeve sat with her hands at her temples.
How could he be so relaxed? Was it the photograph or was it that she was hiding something?
That her heart beat way too fast around him.
That she dreamt about him. That she wanted him not to jet off to Vegas at weekends but be content to sit with her in her grandma’s house while their daughter made bracelets or slept soundly upstairs.
It was a simple fact that she would never be enough for him—a cliché to think she might be—but she feared the camera wouldn’t fail to miss that longing in her eyes.
More messages came through on her phone on the table. One from Bella. I know how you must feel but don’t worry. It’ll be old news tomorrow, I promise x. Then immediately afterwards she sent another. BTW, you’re DEFINITLEY not a Plain Jane!
Brodie read them upside down as they came up on the screen, her phone lying between them.
“This is a nightmare.” Maeve put her head on the table.
Brodie just laughed. “Come on, it’s funny.”
“Plain Jane, Love Child.” Maeve sat up straight again and shook her head. “Brodie, I’m a doctor! I’m a normal person. This cannot happen to me.”
Brodie raised his hands either side of him and said, “Well, it has happened.” He picked up his coffee again and seemed to quite enjoy watching her freak out.
Suddenly Maeve felt her whole body run icy cold. “My parents are going to read this.”
“So?”
Her vision went a little blurred at the idea. Her heart was in overdrive. She sat forward, hands at her temples again trying to rationalize, trying to steady her breathing.
Brodie leaned forward, too, arms crossed, elbows on the table. “They kicked you out, Maeve. You don’t owe them anything. Remember, it’s just pride stopping them admitting they were wrong.”
“Oh, I only said that to make you feel better.” Maeve waved a hand in dismissal. “I don’t actually think that. They don’t think they’re wrong, not for one millisecond.”
Brodie seemed surprised, hurt even, but then he smiled and said, “Well, I thought it made sense.”
She picked up her phone and looked at the picture again then she tipped her head back in despair. More messages flooded in. She put it on silent.
“Maeve,” Brodie said, firm but gentle. “This is going to happen. I can’t help what I am, but it won’t happen much.
Not like it would have done eight years ago.
I’m old news. So, I’ve got a daughter, who cares?
It’s only there ’cause it’s a slow news day.
You’ve got to shake it off. It’s just a photo. ”
He didn’t understand. “I don’t want to be in the news with you,” she said. “I don’t want Zoey in the news! I don’t want this attention for either of us.”
Brodie narrowed his eyes. “Are you ashamed of me?” He sat back in the chair and studied her.
She spluttered. “What?”
He tipped his head, eyes still assessing. “I think you are. You’re this top doctor and you fell for me.”
“Don’t be stupid.” She brushed it off. She’d literally just been yearning after him!
But Brodie seemed to be warming to the idea. “I’m not who you want to be the father of your child. That’s the failing, isn’t it?” he raised his chin as he said it, as if he’d clocked now exactly how she worked. “At least, that’s what you don’t want your parents to know.”
She looked away, couldn’t reply. Felt her cheeks flame with the possible truth. Her parents would be appalled.
“I’m not as clever as you, we know that, but you don’t have to be ashamed, Maeve. I can work hard. I worked hard when I was in that band and afterward. I just choose not to now.”
“Yeah, and look at you, you’re bored out your mind!
” she replied, before she could stop herself, knowing she was attacking him as a defense mechanism.
Yes, she was ashamed of her parents finding out, but she was more ashamed of him finding out that every time she saw him she was secretly fantasizing about him leaning over and kissing her.
Declaring that he’d love nothing more than to ditch his glamorous life and settle in Autumn Falls with her and Zoey.
“I’m not bored!”
“Brodie, you just hosted the Redemption River Summer Fair! You’re bored!”
He rolled his shoulders, uncomfortable with the comment. Neither of them said anything. She could hear the noise of the second hand making its way round the clock.
She was being unfair, juvenile. She was better than that.
She looked down at the table, at her rapidly cooling coffee.
“Maybe I am embarrassed by it,” she admitted.
“I had a one-night stand with pop star. It’s embarrassing!
” She looked up at him, all beautiful and perfect.
“I look like one of your screaming fans. I’m not embarrassed of you, Brodie—I mean who could be embarrassed of you? I’m the Plain darn Jane!”
That made Brodie smirk despite himself.
She sighed, reaching forward to take a sip of the coffee just for a breather.
Then, as if feeling he owed her equal honesty, he said, “Maybe I am a bit bored. I’ve never really thought about it too much before.”
Maeve looked into his guileless blue eyes and said, “That’s what I’m afraid of, Brodie. That boredom is why we’re so interesting to you. We’re a novelty.” She glanced pointedly at her phone. “We get you in the news.”
“That’s unfair!” He sat back, arms folded, and blew out an incredulous breath. Even annoyed, he was handsome. It was so unfair. But then, in a way, it was good—reminded her who he was, how different they were.
“Maybe.” She shrugged but wasn’t so sure. “I worry about what you’re going to do when the novelty wears off.” She looked him in the eye, uncertain what she wanted him to say.
He narrowed his eyes. “Now that’s unfair.”
“What?”
“You turning this round on me. I know how your brain works.” He shook his head like he wasn’t having any of it. “You think you can twist it back on me. It’s like you want me to go. You want me to prove you right so you don’t have to lighten up and take a risk.”
“That’s ridiculous.” She bristled defensively.
“Have I given you any reason to think I’m going to leave?” He cocked his head as he stared right back at her.
There was a pause. The air suddenly pumping with tension again but a different kind from the previous evening. This seemed more fragile, like a line spun from silk that was already stretched as taut as it could go.
Maeve swallowed as she looked into his bright accusing eyes and wondered briefly what it would be like not to worry, to trust him at face value and willingly take that first step on the tightrope.
But she was too certain of the drop.
With a sharp shake of her head, she said, “No, but you haven’t given me any reason why you’re going to stay, either.”
The clock ticked in the background, marking out the fading of time.
It felt suddenly more like the fading of what they’d had.
She could almost see it receding into the distance.
“Are you going to stay, Brodie? Live in Autumn Falls? In your condo? Here with your family—your dad—right here?” She pointed to the table like it marked the whole town itself.
It was Brodie’s turn to be silent. To let the clock tick on.
Maeve smiled weakly, however much she’d expected it, still crushed by foolish disappointment. “There’s your reason, Brodie.”