“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’renevergoing 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 ifmaybe 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.
ChapterForty
Back in his condo Brodie stood with his forehead pressed against the glass, staring down at the view of the dusky polo field.
Why had he instinctively believed that the Slime debacle was his fault? It hadn’t occurred to him that Zoey was taking advantage of the fact he didn’t know she wasn’t allowed to play with the stuff. He should have handled it better. Instead, he’d caved in the moment there was the slightest hint of tears. Whereas Maeve just stood firm at the sight of the crumbling emotion on her daughter’s face. It wasn’t even that big of a deal, but he’d been frozen by his own reaction, terrified that he’d upset her. He squeezed his eyes shut. That was surely just a miniscule fragment of what parenting entailed but he’d panicked, then gone into apologetic mode—even offering to buy Maeve a new table.
