She was ever-so-shiny and ever-so-vulnerable.
And even though Maeve knew all those stories about Brodie, he was like an illusionist, he could make you unbelieve everything you knew just with that dimpled grin.
She sat down on the edge of the veranda and kept her eyes fixed on her daughter.Please don’t break her heart, she mouthed silently as Brodie whipped off his sweater, chucked his phone on the jetty and dived into the water, beckoning Zoey to do the same. Her daughter glanced back at her to check it was okay to jump in fully clothed and Maeve smiled and nodded, who was she to stop them?
She had to keep her distance from Brodie’s golden charm, if only because it would be her job to pick up the pieces of Zoey’s heart if it all went wrong.
But, she told herself, for now they were there and it was for Zoey. And Zoey—currently screeching at the coldness of the water and splashing Brodie—was having the time of her life.
Maeve went to open the door to the cabin but it was locked. She thought about calling to Brodie to ask where the key was but that would interrupt them and pause the fun. She needed to put the milk she’d brought in the fridge, make up the bed in case they did decide to stay—which she still hadn’t made up her mind about—but she couldn’t do any of that.
Brodie hauled himself out of the water and beckoned Zoey to do the same, then he pushed her in and she cackled with glee. He did it every time she got out.
When Maeve swam with Zoey it was to teach her to swim.
No, she had to tamp down the envy. She wouldn’t allow it.
With nothing to do, and reluctant to let her daughter out of her sight for too long, Maeve sat on one of the Adirondacks and watched them. The weather-beaten wood was smooth, almost soft, as she laid her hands on the rests. She kicked off her shoes and stretched her legs out in front of her. She didn’t close her eyes, she would never close her eyes while Zoey was in the water, but she allowed herself to sink down into the chair because there was simply nothing else for her to do. Her body resisted at first, alert, as if the chance to relax was a trick, but after a while she felt her shoulders begin to drop. She stayed sitting and watching until she heard Zoey say, “I’m hungry,” and Brodie say, “I’m Brodie.” Then, “You have to hunt what you want to eat.” Zoey gasped. And Brodie nodded, as if he’d never said anything more serious. Then Zoey’s bottom lip trembled in a way so familiar to Maeve that she was already out of her chair and walking toward her when Zoey burst into tears.
Brodie’s eyes widened, perplexed, as he dried his torso with his T-shirt. “I’m just kidding! Seriously! I’ve got a bunch of stuff to eat—chips, Pop-Tarts, popcorn—there might even be an apple if you really search for it.”
Maeve stroked Zoey’s wet hair, making sure not to look at Brodie half-naked. “D’you hear that? Pop-Tarts.”
Zoey turned to look warily at Brodie. “Are they chocolate?”
He made a face as he yanked on his T-shirt. “What other flavor is there?”
Maeve rummaged in their bag and pulled out a towel, which Zoey wrapped around her sodden clothes while Brodie unlocked the cabin and pushed open the door. “Ladies first.”
Maeve eyed him suspiciously. “Are you basically sending me in to find the spiders?”
Brodie scoffed. “Certainly not.” Then to Zoey he said, “That would be very un-Gryffindor behavior.”
Maeve picked up her bag, and sweeping past him muttered, “Seeing as you definitely cheated on that test, I wouldn’t be surpris—” But she never finished the accusation because she was immediately distracted by the interior of the cabin. She walked in a few paces then turned in a circle to try and take it all in. The main room was small with timber-clad walls and thick ceiling beams. Huge windows at either end made the best of the views. Two huge couches dominated the main living space, covered with big cushions and plaid blankets. On the wooden floor were dark, patterned rugs, worn threadbare where they’d been walked on over the years. The furniture—the tables and sideboards—looked handmade, as if when his uncle realized he needed something, he went outside and knocked it up from wood he found in the forest. The rough walls were hung with tapestries and big paintings and photographs that fitted the landscape. Maeve had never been anywhere more perfect.
“It’s good, huh?” Brodie said, pride in his voice.
She walked further into the room, ran her hand along one of the soft blankets on the back of the couch. “It’s amazing.”
Zoey had run off already and shouted, “This is my room.”
“Zoey, we’re not definitely staying,” Maeve called back.
Brodie frowned. “I thought you were.”
“I thought we could just play it by ear.” Maeve turned and leaned against the arm of the couch. “I don’t want it all to be too overwhelming.”
Brodie waved her concern away as unwarranted. “Zoey’s having a great time.”
“We’ve been here half an hour.”
“There’s no point putting an end on it before its begun, that’s asking for trouble.” As he spoke, he went back out onto the veranda to pick up a massive grocery store bag and hauled it into the kitchen.
Maeve followed, picking up her own smaller bag of supplies.
“You gotta loosen up,” he said, unpacking champagne and the cereal with marshmallows in it, his tone half-joking, as if he knew it was an annoying thing to say. “Go with the flow.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t.”
