Page 48 of Driving Maisie Crazy

By the time she finished, Finn had to remind himself where he was going, having been driving on autopilot since she’d begun.

At the last note, Maisie turned off the intercom and handed it back to Finn, the bus cheering at her performance.

It took everything in his power not to turn around right then and look at her gorgeous, no-doubt humble expression.

“I think we’ll be invitin’ Miss King to do that again,” he said into the intercom, “what do you all say to that?”

A few cheers of agreement sounded behind him, but Maisie was quick to respond, too.

“Nope!” she shouted.

The passengers laughed, and when he caught Maisie’s gaze in the mirror, a lightness floated in his chest that carried his focus away with it.

For the short journey left between Ballycastle and the Dark Hedges, Finn took over the rest of the entertainment, sharing more about the history of the upcoming site and what to expect when they got there, even though his mind remained on Maisie.

When they did finally arrive, he forced himself to focus on the other passengers, moving from person-to-person and offering to take their photos in front of the spectacular site.

The Dark Hedges, appropriately named for the half-mile-long avenue of beech trees hanging over each side of the black-paved street, was certainly a sight to behold. Even though he’d been there countless times before, the view of the two-hundred-and-fifty-year-old trees down the avenue always left a lasting impression on his mind.

Ma loved this place, too. When he’d first started working for Northern Irish Roving Bus Tours, she had often met him there, bringing along meals in containers and sweets in bags for him to munch on during his long days of driving.

“Best keep yourself fed, Finny Boy,” she’d always say. “No good’ll come from drivin’ on an empty stomach.”

She’d always looked out for him. While most parents expressed love for their children, Ma showed it. She’d always poured a hundred and ten percent of her support toward him—whether that was when he’d left Eton or when he’d told her that he was going to be a tour guide. She bragged about him constantly to anyone who’d listen.

Even still, Finn couldn’t help but fear that deep down inside, his parents were both hiding their disappointment for how their only child’s life had turned out. They’d held such lofty hopes for him—Eton, on to uni, possibly becoming a lawyer or a business owner. Could they really be proud of him for becoming a bus driver? Or was that why he was pushing so hard to help Da with his finances—because Finn had to prove that he had value—and brought value—to those he loved?

His phone vibrated in his pocket. With his passengers occupied around him and his thoughts in desperate need of distraction, he pulled it out and swiftly read through the texts sent by his friends earlier.

Cedric

Just like I said. He still hasn’t responded.

Matthew

There’s no way he was serious.

Graham