19. Maeve
Maeve
I should be floating around the pub like a woman in love.
Because I am a woman in love. I’m in love with my husband, and he loves me back, and last night I fell asleep tangled around him, and this morning he made Oisin laugh so hard at breakfast that milk came out of the poor kid's nose. Even Cara smiled at that.
But everything is spinning so fast. All the changes in the past week are dizzying. I can’t even gain a foothold. It’s all so out of control, it's terrifying.
I'm restocking napkins behind the bar when Brianna slides up beside me.
"You seem happy." She says it like an accusation.
"I am."
“Oh, honey.” She looks at me as though I’m a charity case and shakes her head. "Most wives figure it out eventually, but you seem like the type who needs it spelled out for you.”
My hands slow on the napkins. "Figure what out?"
"Made men keep mistresses, honey. All of them. It's practically in the job description." She leans in, and her perfume is everywhere, cloying. "Didn’t he ever show you his love nest upstairs?"
My stomach turns over. “Love nest?”
“Fuck pad.” A satisfied smile blooms over her face like I've handed her exactly what she wanted. “Take a look sometime. Use the back stairs. Ask yourself why a married man keeps a private apartment. Or, better yet,” she says with a wink like we’re co-conspirators. “Ask me. I know.”
She saunters off to take a drink order, and I stand there with a fistful of napkins and a ringing in my ears.
She's lying. I know she’s lying. She sat in his lap and got humiliated for it, and this is her petty payback. Besides, he told me there’s nothing between him and Brittany. He said our vows are sacred to him. And I believe him.
I climb the back stairs anyway.
The door isn't locked. It swings open on a huge, exposed brick loft. A large bed. A leather couch. A bathroom with a razor on the sink and a toothbrush in a cup. Men's shirts in the closet. The place is fully furnished.
I know it’s stupid of me to let Brianna’s words get to me.
Lorcan looks up when I enter his office without knocking. His smile dies when he sees my face. “Maeve, what—"
"The loft upstairs.” My voice comes out flat and dead calm, the voice I use for landlords and caseworkers. "Were you going to mention it? Or did you plan to use it as a fuck pad?”
"Whoa. Stop." He holds up both hands. "That's my apartment.
Was my apartment. I lived there for six years, right up until I married you.
" He doesn't raise his voice. He doesn't dodge.
He just looks at me, steady and open. "It's a one-bedroom, Maeve.
I couldn't fit you and three kids in it, so I moved us to the estate.
I haven't slept there since the night before our wedding.
You know that. Why would you think…" His jaw tightens. "Brianna."
"She said all made men have mistresses. Is it true?”
“No. It’s not true. Every person in this pub has heard me say I'm married. I’d never disrespect you like that.”
And here's the thing. The terrible, dizzying thing. He’s telling the truth.
I believe every word, but it doesn't help.
The floor doesn't come back under my feet.
My heart still slams, and my hands are still cold, and something inside me is screaming in terror, and I don't understand why I feel like I'm standing in a burning building.
For four days it’s been building up—this feeling like I’m on a runaway train. Like I’m hanging off a cliff, clutching the edge by my fingertips.
"It doesn't matter," I hear myself say.
Lorcan goes very still. "What?"
"The loft. Brianna. It doesn't matter, because the deal is done.
" I lift my chin, and my voice is surprisingly steady.
"Four days, four nights. That was the deal.
I held up my end. You said if I still wanted out, you'd set us up—a safe place, the deposits, no strings. That's what I want. I'm calling it in."
"Maeve." My name comes out of him in a sharp exhale, like he was punched in the gut. "Last night you said—"
"I know what I said." I cross my arms. “But a deal’s still a deal. We agreed on four days and four nights. Today is day four. I fulfilled my end; now you fulfil yours, Lorcan. You gave me your word."
He stares at me for a long moment, and I watch his jade green eyes darken to the color of a forest at midnight.
"I did," he says. "I gave you my word."