With a sigh, Maeve threw her legs over the side of the little daybed Sofie kept ready for patients or the wayward niece or nephew. Maeve had spent many a night here, cuddled up at the bay window under her aunt’s soft, faded blankets, soothed by the smells of herbs and drying flowers. She didn’t remember it being so cramped, but then, it was a small bed meant for just a night.
“All right, then.” Placing two plates laden with eggs, sausages, fried potatoes, toast, and spiced apples on the table, Sofiepatted one of the kitchen chairs. “Come eat and tell me what’s happened.”
Maeve knew better than to argue, even if she went begrudgingly and said nothing until her plate was half-finished. She didn’t much feel like eating, but not having had supper either, her stomach groaned queasily for want of something.
She’d already told Sofie the basics, of course. While her auntie always allowed Maeve and any of her nieces or nephews to stay the night if they needed it, explanation was required. “I wouldn’t want to step on my sister’s toes,” Sofie had always reasoned. Still, Maeve didn’t relish rehashing what’d happened—even if she’d been doing it all night in her own head.
As she moved food around her plate, Maeve summarized yesterday’s argument for her aunt. When it came time, she reached for the crumpled letter, which she’d cast onto the table last night. Smoothing it out, she handed it to Sofie to read.
“They decided that Soren needs to be protected from me,” Maeve grumbled.
“Does he?” Peering at her from over the letter, her aunt lifted her brows in that significant look Maeve dreaded. “It’s been weeks now. Haven’t you decided whether you like him or not?”
“It’s not that simple,” said Maeve, spearing a spiced apple slice.
“How so?”
Groaning, Maeve abandoned her fork to drop her head into her hands. “I like him very much, auntie. He’s the sweetest, kindest man I think I’ve ever met.”
“Oh no, he soundsterrible,” Sofie deadpanned.
“I wish he was! That’d make this so much easier.” Pressing the heels of her palms into her eyes, Maeve admitted, “I thought it didn’t have to be serious. That we’d deal with it all when the time came.”
“And the time’s come,” said Sofie. “So you like this sweet,kind man. I’m failing to see the problem here, chickadee.”
“That.” She waved vaguely at the letter. “This complicates everything.”
“I thought you wanted a better position somewhere else.”
“I did. Ido.”
“So…?”
“I’ll have to choose!” Maeve wailed. Wiping at the tears that wouldn’t stop falling, she shook her head. “I wanted to avoid that. I don’t want to choose.”
“Then you probably shouldn’t have gotten involved with him, dearie.”
“I know,” she groaned miserably.
“But here we are.” Setting her own fork down, as well as the letter, Sofie leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she considered Maeve.
Maeve wanted to shrivel up and fade away into dust. Fates, what a mess this had all become.
It was a long few moments that Auntie Sofie sat thinking, so long that Maeve began to fidget. She could never hide anything from Sofie; her aunt saw every side of her, the good, the ugly, the fragile. She was one of the few who’d bothered to get to truly know Maeve over the years, to see her different facets.
Since returning home, the only other person who’d bothered to actually get to know Maeve was…Soren.
Her chest ached just thinking his name.
He knew. Somehow, he knew.Imogen must have said something; it explained his strange behavior on their walk last night.
He hadn’t been angry, although he’d certainly held himself back from her. Aside from that one sweet kiss before flying away. Fates, she hurt even more thinking of the gentle way he’d held her head between his big paws.
He really was saying goodbye.
Because he thinks I won’t choose him.
The truth twisted inside her sharper than a knife.
