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Before I open it, I put my blankets on the sofa, the pillow on my bed, and open my new things from this afternoon to find special places for them in the closet.
Then, I pour myself a cup of tea and carry the letter to the sofa, where I wrap up in a blanket that smells of Shawn and open the note.
Lex-
I’m not too proud to admit that I slept with these blankets for a night or two before I shipped them off to you. So, they’re late. I’m not sorry.
I grin. This is so Shawn.
I’m glad you made it home safely. I hope this letter finds you well and settled back in where you can start writing that new story you mentioned a couple of times while you were here. I can’t wait to read it.
Best,
Shawn
I read it twice, then carefully fold it and slip it back into the envelope, set it aside, and bury my face in the blanket and let myself have a good, cleansing cry.
Goodbye, Shawn.Chapter 16~Shawn~“Buggering hell,” I grumble before rushing over to the sink to run cold water over my sizzling little finger.
Human flesh doesn’t do well in hot grease.
“What happened?” Maggie asks as she loads her tray.
“Stubbed my toe,” I reply and chuckle when she sticks her tongue out at me. “Wasn’t paying attention.”
“That seems to be the norm for you lately, which has me a little worried if I’m being honest.”
“Oh, by all means, let’s be honest.”
“What are we being honest about?” Maeve asks as she walks into the kitchen.
“Don’t you both have jobs to do?”
“Still moody, I see,” Maeve mumbles.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I press half an onion to the burn, and it immediately starts to feel better.
“Moody and spacey, that’s been you for a while now,” Maggie says. “And you’re here at the pub all the damn time. I thought you had another deadline. Shouldn’t you be at home writing the next cinematic masterpiece?”
“Yes.”
“Then go do it,” Maeve says. “We have things under control here.”
I lower a basket of fries into the grease and flip a burger. I’m here at the pub, day after day, because I can’t fucking write.
I can’t concentrate.
And it’s driving me mad.
“Seriously, what’s wrong?” Maggie asks.
“I always thought writer’s block was a bunch of bullshit,” I reply as I toss a slice of cheese on the burger. “I’ve always been able to power through when I’ve been stuck on something. I take a walk, or talk it out with one of you, or work out. Basically, I just have to clear my head.”
I haven’t had a clear head in a fucking month.
A slow smile spreads over Maeve’s face. “You miss her.”
“Who?” I ask, knowing full well who she’s talking about.
“Jane Fonda,” Maeve says, rolling her eyes. “You’ve been acting weird since Lexi left a month ago. You miss her.”
“Bullshit.”
“She’s right,” Maggie says. But all of the humor is gone. She’s not teasing me now. “It’s okay to admit that you miss her. We all do.”
I frown but don’t reply.
“She was funny, and probably the best kitchen help, aside from Ma, we’ve ever had.” I stare at Maeve, who just shrugs. “Sorry, but it’s true.”
“She’s not dead,” I remind them. “I’m sure she’s still funny.”
And sexy as hell, along with smart and kind and all of the things that make Lexi, Lexi.
“You should call her,” Maggie says.
“Why would I do that? We finished the project.”
And hearing her voice might bring me to my knees. I already can’t concentrate. Talking to her will only make things worse. No, I need to get my bloody head on straight and figure my shit out.
“Is it that you can’t concentrate?” Maeve asks.
“Sometimes, switching from one project to the next is a bitch,” I admit. And it’s true. Shifting gears can be difficult.
That’s what I’m blaming this on.
It has nothing at all to do with a gorgeous brunette with a body made for sin.
“I think you need a change of scenery,” Maggie says. “Why don’t you go to Ireland for a while, Shawn? Go see Ma and Da. Enjoy some time at the inn, walk the cliffs. Your muse is sure to find you there.”
“I can’t go,” I say, shaking my head. “Keegan needs me here.”
“No, he doesn’t.” Keegan pokes his head through the door. “Also, Mary Margaret, I need you to get your little arse back out here.”
“Sorry. Tell Shawn he can go to Ireland for a while.”
She hurries out, and Keegan levels me with that older-brother stare.
“Get out of town for a while, man,” he says. “I’m covered here.”
“By who?”
“He hired a cook this morning,” Maeve says with a smile. “Seriously, go.”
I turn back to the griddle. “I’ll be gone by the weekend.”* * *“You were right.” I’m grinning down at my sister’s lovely faces. I just video-called them from my room at our family inn along the cliffs of the west shore of Ireland.
