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F O R T Y F O U R
- Finn -
I knew I shouldn’t let Brie’s words get under my skin, but it was too late. As I sat around with Maeve’s family, I couldn’t stop thinking about the questions she’d asked me.
Did I love Maeve? I didn’t know. I didn’t not love her. I definitely liked her more than I’d ever liked a woman before, but did that mean it was love? I had to be certain. I wasn’t going to jerk her around when she was about to become a single mom.
Then there was the kids thing, which was a whole other elephant. When Brie asked if I wanted them, it felt weird that Maeve answered for me. Then again, I suppose it would’ve been awkward for everyone if I said I did. Who knows? I was probably reading into it too much.
After all, Maeve had been speaking her mind since the moment we met. If she wanted my sperm, she would’ve suggested it at some point. But that hadn’t happened. Instead, she asked me to look at countless donor profiles for guys who had more credentials than I had lyrics, which made her message loud and clear.
She liked me. She trusted my judgment. But she didn’t think I was baby daddy material. And even if she did, I’d have to want kids for that to work, which I didn’t. At least, I didn’t think I did until I met her.
But just because I liked the idea of Maeve being pregnant didn’t mean I liked the idea of me being a father. Sure, I could imagine it, I guess. Not that I’d ever tried before. So why now? Was it because I was afraid of losing her? Or was I actually in love?
Maeve elbowed me gently where I was sitting beside her on the couch. “James asked you a question.”
I lifted my eyes from the neglected Jenga pieces scattered across the coffee table to where James and Brie were sitting on two floating ottomans. One of them matched the grey couch and the other was an olive color that matched…absolutely nothing in the room that I could see.
“Do you miss it?” he asked.
“Miss what?”
“The rocker lifestyle you used to live?” He rolled the sleeves of his thin sweater up, keeping his relaxed gaze on mine.
Meanwhile, Quinn and Maddy perked up their ears in the armchair they were sharing to my right.
“No,” I said, my mind a montage of the cringiest footage he could’ve found online. “Not at all.”
“Not even a little?” Quinn chimed in.
I shook my head. “Don’t get me wrong. I loved playing music and exploring new cities—when we actually had the time to do so—but I definitely don’t miss the lifestyle.” I thought that would suffice, but everyone leaned in like they were hoping for more.
“Do you still write new stuff?” James asked.
I shrugged. “If only to keep from losing the ability.”
“Don’t be so modest,” Maeve said, nudging me again. “You’re always mixing in new stuff at the bar.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s any good,” I said, considering how I might redirect the spotlight onto someone else. “Once people have a few drinks, they’re basically a captive audience.”
“I’d love to come hear you play sometime,” Brie said, pulling her feet up to sit cross-legged. “I thought that one album you did with the black sand on the cover—”
“Black Sand?” I said, feeling anything but smug.
Her eyes lit up. “Yeah, that’s right. I thought that was a great album.”
“Thanks,” I said, wondering if she was being genuine or simply looking for new ways to fuck with me. Not that I should care either way. Except I did. Because I cared about Maeve more than I was ready to admit, and I didn’t want her family thinking I was just another useless flake who couldn’t see what a fantastic catch she was.
“He’s an incredible artist, too,” Maeve said, leaning into my shoulder. “You should see his sketches.”
My insides cringed. Did she actually think her brother was going to be impressed by the fact that I’d gotten really good at drawing pictures of my dog?
“I do some drawing myself,” James said, shooting Brie a look that made her blush.
Maddy groaned. “You guys are disgusting.”
“What?” James asked, taking obvious pleasure in terrorizing everyone…and in being the center of attention, which suited me fine.
