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“You’re welcome,” Kane says. “It’s from the whole family, although no one but me was sweating bullets over it in the barn, I’ll tell you that.”
“He’s so gracious,” Maeve says, rolling her eyes.
I round the bar and get to work building my own Guinness when Keegan joins me. We’re down from where everyone else is gathered, admiring Kane’s vase.
“Are you really just going to let her go?” Keegan asks me.
“Of course. She has a life in Minneapolis.”
“I see the way you look at her.”
“And how is that?”
“Like you’re a lovesick puppy.”
I laugh and set my glass aside to settle. “Well, you’re dead wrong about that. I’m not in love with her. I do enjoy her, and I admire her. And I won’t lie and tell you the physical aspect of our relationship hasn’t been mutually satisfying. But I’ll gladly put her on that plane on Tuesday and be perfectly fine with it.”
The words are like sand in my mouth. I believe them. It’s the absolute truth.
So, why does it feel wrong?
“You’re a bloody eejit,” Keegan says cheerfully and claps his hand on my shoulder. “But, we already knew that.”
“I’m not. I know how I feel. There’s no reason a man can’t have an adult relationship with a woman without needing to marry her.”
“Don’t let Da hear that,” he says. “He might smack you one.”
I shake my head, thinking about the conversation I overheard him having with Lexi this morning. I think my brother would be surprised at how understanding our father can be.
But before I can tell him about it, Lexi’s head whips around, and she pins me with a horrified stare.
“What?” I call out.
“You stabbed your baby sister’s doll and then gave her a burial? What are you, a serial killer?”
“You should know, Lex. You write about them all day long.”
“Fictional serial killers, you monster.”
Ma’s laughing, clearly delighted by the whole situation.
“I was acting out Hamlet,” I say in my defense. “And the doll was an innocent bystander.”
“I was scarred for life,” Maggie says with a melodramatic sniff.
“There, there,” Lexi says, patting Maggie’s shoulder. “I’ll protect you from him.”
“Why are women so dramatic?” Keegan asks aloud.
“Watch it, my boy,” Da says. “We’re outnumbered.”* * *“No.”
I stare at her and feel a headache coming on. We’ve been combing through this screenplay all fucking day, and she’s being as difficult—as obstinate—as it gets.
If I were a true Dom, I’d bend her over my damn knee.
In fact, I think I might anyway.
“Lex—”
“Don’t you Lex me,” she says, pointing her finger at me. “You agreed that we’d leave it as is with the note to Luke and the director that they could try it the alternate way if they felt it needed it.”
“It needs it,” I reply. “And you won’t fucking listen to me. I’m not new to screenwriting, Lexi, and I’m not just trying to piss you off.”
“Feels like it from here,” she says.
“It doesn’t make sense the way you have it written.”
“What? So my editor and the one-point-two million people who read it are all wrong?”
I stand and push my fingers through my hair. I want to tear it out by the roots.
“It works in the book. But not for a movie. If you send her in there, yelling and making a scene, it looks ridiculous. But if we tone her down a bit—”
“Here we go.”
“It makes her look more professional.”
“I’m not toning her down. She’s a fucking FBI agent moving in on what she thinks is a serial killer, Shawn. She hasn’t just pulled someone over for speeding.”
“I get that. But—”
“Just. Stop. Talking.” She spins and pins me with her dark blue gaze, fury rolling off her in waves. She’s been different all day. Distant.
As if she’s pushing me away.
“I can’t fucking wait to go home,” she mutters. “I’m sick of having this same argument, every damn day. Just because you’re the screenwriter and I’m not, doesn’t mean you automatically know what’s best for my character.”
“I didn’t say that. I’m trying to explain to you why she shouldn’t run in there, yelling like a crazy person.”
“WATERMELON.”
I freeze and stare at her, unblinking. “What did you just say?”
“Watermelon,” she repeats. “Water-fucking-melon.”
“After everything we’ve done together, all the ways I’ve taken you and tied you up, this is when you pull out your goddamn safe word?”
“I’m done with this,” she says, chest heaving. “You fight me at every turn, and you want to change everything that I worked my ass off for a year creating. If Luke didn’t like the story as it was written, he wouldn’t have bought it.”
“Then why didn’t you just write the screenplay yourself, Lexi? If you didn’t want to partner with someone, if you didn’t want help, why was I brought in at all? Because this is a colossal waste of fucking time for me.”
She stands to leave, but I hurry after her and grab her arm, spinning her back to me.
