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“My point is,” she said, turning towards me. “If you don’t love her, I think you should fuck off out of her life before you hurt her.”
I couldn’t help but be taken aback by her shift in tone. “I’m not going to hurt her.”
“No? What are you going to do then? Keep seeing her while she makes a baby all by herself? Like I said, it’s none of my business, but for her sake, I think you should shit or get off the pot.”
My neck retracted. “Jesus, tell me how you really feel.”
“I asked you first,” she said, planting a hand on her hip. “Do you love her?”
“With all due respect…” Who the fuck do you think you are?
“Oh please. I slaved over that yummy dinner, and you can’t answer a simple question?”
“You said it was all store bought?”
“Did I say ‘slaved’? I meant ‘served,’” she said. “Don’t be pedantic.”
I glanced over at the door to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “Did James put you up to this?”
She recoiled like she was offended by the question.
“I’m not going to hurt her, okay? I came here to support her tonight because she asked me to.”
“What a hero,” she said sarcastically. “You going to raise the Bostonian’s baby, too? Or do you only get off on so much vulnerability, and then once it passes a certain point—”
“What the hell, Brie? I’ve only known you for a few hours. Do you not believe in giving people the benefit of the doubt?”
“No,” she said, taking another scraped plate from me. “I used to, but… Anyway, I’m just trying to figure out what’s in it for you.”
“I care about her,” I said. “That’s what’s in it for me. I care about her, and I want to see her happy.”
“She’s happy with you, Finn. Your company makes her happy.”
“It’s mutual.”
“How long are you going to care about her?”
Confusion crumpled my expression. “You mean how long since I started caring?”
“No, I meant what I said. How long are you going to care about her?”
“Now who’s being pedantic?” I joked, trying to guess how long it had been since she blinked. “Why do you ask?”
“Because the L word freaked you out.”
“It didn’t freak me out,” I said, watching her rinse a handful of butter knives under the tap.
She dropped them in the dishwasher tray and rinsed her hands once more before flicking off the faucet. “Look, the reason I ask is because it doesn’t matter, for example, how long I’ve loved James. What matters is how long I’m going to love him.”
Let me guess.“Forever?”
“Bingo,” she said. “So no matter what’s going on in my life, I always have that in the back of my mind.”
“That’s really sweet, Brie, but—”
“That’s why I asked,” she said, kicking the dishwasher lid up so she could close it. “Because if there’s any part of you that thinks you might love Maeve forever, you need to tell her.”
“I don’t see how that would change anything for the better.”
