“No!” Maeve laughed, incredulous. “Brodie, she changes her outfit about five times a day. It’s fine.” She seemed to realize then that hewasactually nervous. “You’ll be fine.”
“You wanna come too?” he asked, not the suave invite he’d been intending, but half desperate, half hopeful.
Her expression softened but she still shook her head. “No. You two just have fun together.”
“You sure?” Brodie asked. He’d like to sit opposite her having a milkshake, he’d even found himself wondering what flavor she’d get. He’d pipped her for a Strawberry Serenade kinda person. It was Willow’s favorite, too. “The more the merrier.”
Maeve said, “Brodie, you don’t need me there, you’ll be fine.”
He wanted to say that she’d read it wrong. He didn’t need her—although she would be useful—hewantedher there.
Zoey came back then in a purple top under her dungarees.
Before Brodie could ask her to join them again, Maeve said, “Bye, guys, have fun.”
“Bye, Mom.”
He found himself momentarily reluctant to step off the porch, felt the unfamiliar tug of the warm, easy sense of family created when these two were together, but he tore his gaze away from Maeve’s doting smile and turned to his daughter. “Right, you’re teaching me to shoot hoops, yeah?”
“Oh, yeah!”
ChapterTwenty-Eight
Zoey left giggling. That was good. It was a good thing, Maeve told herself, leaning against the wall in her hallway.
She closed her eyes. Could she do this? Every day, forever? Answer the door to his radiant smile, endure his easy flirtation, his refreshing happy-go-lucky take on life? Look across at him at Zoey’s birthdays, her graduation, her wedding. Him and his many girlfriends. Could she chat and laugh and be normal?
Yes, she told herself, walking back down the corridor, because she had to. Because this was a good thing.
It had been a long time since Maeve had a Saturday free with no work and no Zoey.
She made herself a coffee and sat in the garden, tried to relax looking at the birds but kept checking her phone in case something had happened. She thought about them together drinking Cookies and Cream Dreams. Him saying his silly jokes and making Zoey laugh. She felt a squeeze of something inside her—envy, sadness?—but it wasn’t because of Brodie’s time with her daughter, she realized, it was wishing she was there with them. Wishing she’d said yes to Brodie’s invite. She’d order a Strawberry Serenade and Zoey would tell Brodie how gross strawberries were. What would Brodie have, she wondered? Probably a Cookies and Cream Dream to make Zoey happy. But if he were to choose for himself… the triple-chocolate Mudslide.
Why on earth was she thinking about Brodie’s milkshake choices?
She stood up too quickly.Don’t be ridiculous, Maeve.
To keep busy, she cleaned the house from top to bottom. There wasn’t a speck of dust by the time she finished. No random Cheerios under the kitchen table. Then she made a pie.
When the screen door banged to show they were back, she heard Zoey say, “Wow, Mom, you baked something?” Then to Brodie, “Momneverbakes.”
Maeve rushed to the kitchen doorway to defend herself. “I bake!”
Brodie was kicking off his sneakers, basketball under one arm; so at home. She had to get a grip.
Zoey scrunched up her nose. “When?”
Maeve looked around her as if the answer might present itself. “Now,” she replied in the end.
She saw Brodie smirk, as if she’d been caught out doing something to impress him.
Had she been trying to impress him? Or was she just bored? And if she was trying to impress him, what made her think that her distinctly average attempts at baking would do the trick?
Zoey stared at her like something weird was going on, then she leaned over to Brodie and whispered, “I’ve literallyneverseen my mom bake anything, ever.”
Maeve knew she was blushing. That she’d overdone it by baking an apple pie. That in some bizarre homespun dream, she had indeed been trying to impress him. To show him the delights of small-town life. Was she insane?Not only had he grown up here—this was not her normal life! He’d seen the chaos she lived in.
“Good basketball?” she asked, busying herself cutting the pie so she didn’t have to look at Brodie.
