Chapter 32
POV: Maeve?
It’s been two weeks since I’ve finished my once fiction inspired novel—with my grumpy pub owner inspired by, of course, Liam. And my beautifully erratic, female main character, who was of course inspired by myself. Based in the beautiful setting of Ireland in the summertime.
I decided on the title “One Irish Summer.”
It seemed catchy enough to grab attention, something that would pull more than a few curious eyes and make them want to give it a read.
At least, that’s how I was hoping my publisher would see it—catchy, engaging, impossible to ignore.
Querying publishers is absolutely no joke. It’s a mixture of both terror and excitement all wrapped into one.
Because at the end of day, it’s a make or break game. It can either keep you in unpublished purgatory, where your novel quite literally is not read by anyone or it can make you the next bestselling author.
I’ve had a few good years, where most of my work was picked up and approved by my publisher. They were hounding me as of late to produce the next bestselling rom-com, so after months of a complete creative dryspell, I churned out a novel in record time.
I clicked refresh again on my e-mail account, letting out a hopeless sigh and leaning back into my chair a bit too far.
Liam let out a chuckle.
“Are you enjoying my suffering?” I called out, glancing behind me to look at him.
A small smirk held on his perfect lips, as he leaned back into the couch, stretching his arms over his head and giving me a wide, irresistible smile.
This was the man I stayed in Ireland for.
“You know you’re not cute when you’re smug,” I stuck my tongue out, teasing him.
Liam laughed, easily.
And I soaked in the sound.
There was just something about him that seemed…relaxed now. Not as much of a grump, I guess?
I shook my head and rolled my eyes.
“Oh stop you’re fussing. The novel is great. The male character is the star of the show, if I do say so myself,” he basically patted himself on the back.
I rolled my eyes more dramatically this time. “He’s sort of an ass,” I shrugged, sending him a playful wink.
“Yet, she fell for him,” he sent me a wink back.
I scoffed, staring at my screen again. “She only did because he stalked her.”
“Stalked?” That made him get up from his comfy spot on the couch.
He walked towards me, leisurely, with long, slow strides and then wrapped his arms around my back, pulling me against his chiseled chest then leaning in to press a kiss onto my ear.
I closed my eyes, forgetting about the novel and my worries for a moment, and enjoyed his touch. He always made me relax.
“He’s sort of creepy,” I whispered, giggling.
“Creepy?” he chuckled. “I think he’s a stud.”
“Of course you do,” I teased, laughing. “I guess he’s okay. But this Liam—this is the one that’s the true stud.” I patted his hand.
He wrapped his arms tighter around me, pressing a kiss into the top of my head this time. “And this Maeve—she’s perfect.”
“Perfect?” I asked, laughing.
I’m far from perfect.
“Perfect,” he reiterated. “I couldn’t think of anyone better. You’re everything I needed, Maeve.”
“Yet, you didn’t want—” I reminded him, playfully. “God, I still remember the first time I met you. So brooding. So grumpy.”
“Things change. And I guess I just needed somebody to change for,” he whispered softly.
I glanced up at him, looking into his eyes and seeing the depth of his words. God, he was going to make me emotional. “Don’t cry on me,” I laughed.
“I’ll try not to,” he teased, standing up straight and removing his arms from my body. “But you’ll probably be the first one to make me do that, too.”
“That’ll be our daughter,” I said, without thinking, quickly shaking my head from my own comment as my cheeks glowed cherry red. “Sorry…”
“No,” he said, smiling. “You’re right. Our daughter will probably make me bawl.”
“Probably, girls always have a hold on their dads.”
He smiled, really smiled. A smile that crept from ear to ear. “Serious question,” he paused, looking over my face. “Do you want children?”
I stared at him for a moment, without speaking, just thinking. I bit my lip. “I think so. It would be nice to have a family, one day. What about you?”
“Well, hell, Maeve, I already said, our daughter as if we already have one.”
That one made me smile.
I couldn’t help it.
Here I was, with a man who quite literally used to be unapproachable, unemotional, and against relationships all together—talking about our future family, children we didn’t have, but wanted.
Oh, how times have changed.
My heart warmed from the very thought.
A family. Children. Liam as a husband and father.
Then I laughed, because I couldn’t help it, imagining Liam changing diapers and getting thrown up on.
Oh, the satire—the pure comedical satire.
I would never stop laughing.
“What are you laughing about, love?” Liam began aggressively tickling me.
“Nothing!” I lied, giggling as he continued.
“What’s so funny, huh?” he teased, still tickling me.
“Fine! The thought of you getting thrown up and peed on while changing diapers!” I held up my hands in the air as a surrender.
He only tickled me more.
Eventually, he stopped. And I heaved in two breaths as I finally curbed my laughter.
The sight was enough to make anyone laugh, even Liam.
I glanced back down at my laptop, refreshing my e-mail once again and saw it.
And I nearly jumped out of my seat.
I opened the e-mail and saw it. An acceptance e-mail. A mention of a zoom call with my publisher and editing team.
I jumped up from my seat and clapped.
“Good news?” he asked me excitedly.
I nodded.
Liam picked me up off the ground with one big swoop, cradled me in his arms and carried me down the hall.
“Where are we going?” I narrowed my eyes, as my arms were loosely draped around his neck.
“To celebrate,” he smirked.
I shot him a look. “This isn’t the way to the pub.”
“No, it’s the way to the bedroom,” he sent me a wink.
“You’re bad,” I smiled, but I was looking forward to his lovemaking.
“You like it,” he reminded me with a wide grin.
“I do,” I admitted, shrugging.
Liam shut the door behind us, plopped me down on the bed and began slowly stripping.
With intent eyes, I watched him. I watched every contour of his muscle as he stripped off his shirt, unbuckled his belt, slipped down his pants then slowly, painfully slowly, moved down his boxers, exposing his hardened cock.
I’m not into closed door romance scenes.
But I guess this time, it will have to do.