Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
When Maeve came home, she expected they’d have a conversation, but Brodie kept his distance. She had wanted to apologize. Say that she’d been too defensive, overreacted about the photos—that it wasn’t his fault—that instead of taking a step forward, she’d taken one, maybe three, steps back.
But before she could say anything he said, “I’m really sorry, your table’s ruined. And the floor. There was Slime everywhere and—”
“Zoey!” Maeve interrupted him, frowning at her daughter. “I told you not to play with that stuff! You know what it does. It’s a nightmare!”
Zoey looked like she was about to burst into tears.
Maeve said, “No. Don’t turn on the waterworks, because you know it was wrong.” She turned to Brodie. “I’m sorry.”
He shook his head, looked a little like a rabbit in headlamps. “It’s okay. We cleared it up,” he said. “And I can get you a new table.” He pointed again to where all the varnish had been eaten away.
Maeve waved away his concern, it was a really old table and had probably suffered worse. “Thanks, but don’t worry. I don’t need a new table. Zoey, that stuff was hidden at the back of the cupboard for a reason!”
Zoey nodded, putting on her best wide-eyed worried face. Maeve shook her head, silently telling her to knock it off.
Brodie looked equally terrified, but she was pretty certain his expression wasn’t an act.
“Well, anyway,” he said, “I gotta go. Bye, Zoey!”
She waved, chastened. “Sorry about the Slime.”
“It’s not a problem,” he replied.
Maeve walked with him out to the hallway. When they got to the front door, she said, “Brodie, I wanted to say—”
“Really sorry, Maeve.” He cut her off as he looked at his watch.
“I’ve really gotta run. I’m late. And I, er …
don’t want to draw attention, you know…” He gestured to the road where there might be someone waiting to take a photo of him leaving the house, though Maeve didn’t believe that was the reason for his hesitation, especially not given his attitude to the press coverage. “We can talk tomorrow.”
“Sure.” She nodded, watching, a little disappointed as he jogged away down the path.
Back in the house, Zoey was unusually quiet. Maeve went and sat next to her, stroked her hair away from her face and said, “Are you okay, Zo?”
Zoey nodded, but her big brown eyes said different. Then she bit her lip for a second and it almost made Maeve smile, because she knew Zoey had learned the gesture from her. “I didn’t want to make him mad.”
“Well, Slime is a nightmare, Zo.” Maeve wondered how Brodie was feeling about it. “And it can’t always be fun and games. He’s your dad. Sometimes he’s going to tell you off.”
Zoey looked up, bottom lip trembling a little with worry.
Maeve smiled gently. “That’s what moms and dads do. Sometimes, when you’ve done something wrong, they get mad. Doesn’t mean they don’t love you. I get mad all the time and I love you.”
“I guess.”
Maeve wasn’t sure her little speech reflected that well on her but it seemed to do the trick where Brodie was concerned. “Come on,” she said, “It’s bedtime.”
Zoey did her normal reluctant routine about going to bed, but once she was tucked up, it became apparent that she’d been saving another topic for discussion and said, with the utmost seriousness, “By the way, if you and Brodie got together, I’d be okay with that.”
Maeve was so taken aback she said quickly, “We’re not going to get together, Zoey.”
Zoey frowned, pulling her stuffed monkey closer under her arm. “I’m just saying, I’d be fine with it if you did.”
Maeve had managed to compose herself and said, “Well, that’s good to know, thank you.”
“So you’re never going to?” Zoey persisted.
“No!” Maeve shook her head. “And even if we wanted to, which we don’t,” she said, “there are so many things to take into account.”
“Like what?”
Maeve was kicking herself for not being better prepared. “Like what if we got together and then broke up? You’d be very upset.”
“So you’re saying we shouldn’t do things if they might make us upset?” Zoey wriggled up the bed so she was sitting upright.
“No, I’m not saying that.” Maeve felt herself getting flustered under the scrutiny of the eight-year-old. “No, I’m saying I don’t want to do anything—willingly—that might make you upset.”
“You not doing things you want to do makes me upset,” Zoey said with a mischievous grin. She looked dangerously like her dad.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Maeve clamped her hand to her forehead in despair. “You’re too clever for your own good!”
Zoey giggled. Maeve shooed her back down the bed, so her head was back on the pillow and giving her a big kiss said, “Goodnight, Zo.”
Zoey was still grinning when she said, “Night, Mom.”
Strangely, Maeve found herself smiling as she went back down the stairs. She allowed herself to question her own logic. To take the advice of her eight-year-old and wonder if maybe she was being too cautious, finding problems where maybe she could be finding happiness.
She paused on the bottom step, looking out the window by the front door to the wire fence and the road beyond, she thought how liberating it had felt walking away from her dad on the phone.
Then everything Zoey had just said. Brodie or no Brodie, she realized how much she’d let fear have control of her life.