And then she’d gone and died and I hadno one.
Now I had Maeve, and the guys, and no way was I bollocksing up a good thing by getting emotionally involved.
If I said those words to Maeve, I’d be setting myself up for heartbreak again. And I just couldn’t do it. So that was that.
Even though my chest felt like I’d swallowed a stone.
Maeve would get over it. She had the other guys.
I’d be fine. Totally bloody fine.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
MAEVE
“Are you sure you don’t mind me going off without you?” I asked as Kelly pulled clothes from her monolithic pink backpack and tossed them around the apartment.
“Are you kidding? I’ve already had enough of boring old stuff to last me a lifetime. You and Corbin and Flynn go be nerds and look at dusty paintings. Jane’s offered to take me shopping on Oxford Street.”
After what happened between Flynn and me this morning, her day sounded a hundred times better than mine. “Connor will enjoy that.”
Kelly jabbed her thumb over her shoulder, where Arthur sat on the edge of the bed, playing ‘horsey’ with Connor. My heart skipped seeing him being so nurturing. He really was a gentle giant. “Arthur, Blake, and Rowan are going to watch him for the day. Jane’s pretty excited about having free babysitters. She says she’s even going to have a wine at the pub. My first English pub, I’m so excited!”
A sharp pain stabbed in my chest. I’d wanted to take Kelly to her first English pub. My sister was here in England after escaping a horrible situation. I was supposed to be around to help her and show her the sights. And yet we’d barely spoken to each other since she arrived. All the memories we were supposed to be creating together she was having with other people. And while I appreciated my friends stepping up and looking out for her, I felt as though it was yet another thing I was missing out on.
It’s not important.What was important was that Kelly had a great time sightseeing and shopping, and that she stayed safe and remained none the wiser about my new powers or the brewing fae problemorthe fact I’d had a sixsome while waiting for her flight to land.
Corbin yelled from the living room. “Maeve, let’s go. We’re going to be late.”
“Coming.” I grabbed my purse and hugged Kelly quickly. “Have fun, and just remember, if you want that twenty-grand to last long enough for your backpacking adventure through Europe, you can’t spend it all on cute clothes.”
Kelly rolled her eyes. “Relax, big sis. I know what I’m doing.”
“No, you don’t, but it’s fine. Neither do I.” I gave Rowan and Blake each a quick hug, and Arthur a lingering kiss for Kelly’s benefit (and also, it was hot as fuck). Then I followed Corbin and Flynn out of the apartment and down the street to the Tube station.
Flynn made jokes about modernist painters, his voice as casual as ever, as if he hadn’t stomped my heart into a million pieces. Corbin laughed along, not noticing anything between us until Flynn went to take my other hand and I pulled away. Flynn’s face sagged, but I told myself I didn’t care.
You never specified that the guys had to have feelings for you to be in the harem. Just because Flynn doesn’t love you, doesn’t mean you can leave him out of the coven stuff. It doesn’t have to change anything.
But it did. It changedeverything.
We took the Northern Tube line to Charing Cross station, then walked a block to Trafalgar Square. The National Gallery dominated one side of the square, its classical facade the very picture of European majesty.
“Whoa,” I said as I took in the towering Doric columns and sprawling grounds. I’d never seen anything like it before. It was so enormous. It was hard to believe that was an entire building just filled with paintings.
“Come on.” Corbin squeezed my hand as he led me up the steps and into the towering foyer. Flynn trailed along behind. We skipped past a long line of tourists waiting at the turnstiles and went straight to a small counter in the corner.
“My name is Corbin Harris. We have a private tour booked with Professor Hendricks,” Corbin explained to the lady behind the counter. She put a call through and a few moments later, a short fellow with Coke-bottle glasses and a faded blue suit rushed down the grand staircase toward us.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Harris.” He gave Corbin’s hand a vigorous shake. “I’m a huge admirer of your father’s work. His latest essay on Victorian puritanism was simplystunning.”
“My father is a very accomplished scholar,” Corbin said without emotion. “I’d like to introduce Flynn O’Hagan. He’s the artist of our group.”
“Ah, Mr. O’Hagan. What style do you work in? Modernism? Cubism? No, let me guess…you’re an impressionist?”
“I make giant insects out of scrap metal,” Flynn said in a completely deadpan voice.
“Ah. Very good.” Hendricks’ pinched expression showed exactly what he thought of that. He turned to me. “And who is this lovely lady joining you? Are you a fellow scholar of European art?”
