‘As long as it’s not Jude in the kitchen, I don’t care,’ Elden remarked. He propped his hand under his chin and chewed, smiling at Maeve. Her shoulders relaxed somewhat. His abilityto settle her with nothing more than a smile or kind comment was uncanny.
‘And why is that, Elden?’ Jude’s voice had turned frosty.
Elden winked at Bethan. ‘Think you need to relax, is all. Too uptight.’
Maeve took a sip of wine, swirling it over her teeth as she watched Jude sit back in his seat, hooking one arm over the backrest. ‘Hm.’
‘I disagree,’ Bethan said. Her eyes were fond as she gazed at Jude. ‘I rather like that part of him.’
Maeve’s fork fell to her plate with a clatter. Jude’s eyes swung to hers. She searched his expression for something to pull her from the mire. He brought his glass to his mouth as he raised an eyebrow, fingers tight around the stem. Dark red wine clung to his lower lip. Maeve looked away. Disappointment clamped teeth around her heart.
Bethan was still speaking.
‘So, that’s why it’s just me this time. Mum has been feeling a little under the weather, so I don’t know if we’ll focus excessively on the herbalism this winter season.’
‘Just fortunes and cards, then?’ Jude asked.
Maeve tried to listen, she really did, but her mind kept circling back to Bethan and Jude. Part of her, the side that picked at every scab and had long made a habit of eavesdropping on any conversation she could, wanted to know every sordid truth about their relationship. Were Bethan’s visits a regular thing? Were they truly lovers or was her jealous mind seeing a connection that wasn’t actually there?
A memory surfaced, scoring her mind with the precision of a steel blade.
When she’d been laid up in bed with her monthlies, Jude had brought her tea. He’d given it to her, blushing and stammering, telling her Elden made it for his neighbour to help with similar symptoms.
He also said it prevented pregnancy.
And Maeve had teased him about it, hadn’t she? Poked fun and enjoyed his fidgeting.
She stared down at her mostly full plate as pressure built behind her eyes. Carefully, she laid her fork next to her plate, aligning it with the edge of the table. Her fingers moved to fidget with the stem of her wine glass next.
How foolish she’d been. She wasn’t the one Jude was worried about protecting.
Bethan laughed, reaching across the table to pat Jude on the wrist. Maeve watched with a sick fascination, unable to look away.
For the first time in days, maybe even weeks, she wanted to be anywhere but his home – but she was a coward. Never one to question her reality until it was too late. Through the buzzing in her ears, she listened to their conversation. It sounded like they were discussing Bethan’s foraging. Something with the weather, maybe. It wasn’t enough to hold Maeve’s attention, nor to keep her gaze from Jude.
He picked at his food almost as slowly as she did. Though he smiled more often than usual, he seemed tense. His occasional laughter sounded forced, almost uncomfortable, though that might’ve been her own wishful thinking.
Their gazes caught and held across the table.
Jude searched her face with wide eyes. He looked younger. A boy, wondering why his friend was ignoring him. If they were alone, Maeve knew he would ask her what the matter was. She could almost see the question written across his face.
Friends, Maeve reminded herself forcefully. He knew her as a friend, cared for her as a friend. Nothing more and nothing less. She would take it, grateful to have a piece of him at all.
Clearing the plates, Elden urged them to reconvene in the sitting room.
‘I think we ought to go upstairs,’ Bethan said, eyes on Jude. ‘It’s getting late.’
Jude pushed back from the table. Maeve tracked his every movement, waiting for his reply. He picked up his cutlery, laying them neatly on his empty plate. Adjusted the hem of his jumper on his hip. He met her eyes for a heartbeat before turning to Bethan and gesturing towards the doorway. ‘After you.’
Maeve’s lungs emptied in a rush. Though she was no longer sure she had a body, she followed Elden into the kitchen and began filling the sink with hot water. It burned her hands as she scrubbed plate after plate. Try as she might, she couldn’t help but listen for every stir in the house. Every creak of footsteps and squeak of furniture. She imagined she could hear the sigh of breath and the slide of skin. She squeezed her eyes shut, surprised to find her lashes damp.
Rejection was a demanding mistress.
‘Maeve?’ Elden pulled the plate from her hands and gently nudged her aside. He hissed when his hands hit the water, turning the cold tap on and stirring a spoon through the basin to mix it. His movement stilled when he noticed her expression. ‘What is it?’
She took a shuddering breath.Dammit.She needed to pull herself together. The very thought of Elden sensing the direction of her thoughts sent a frisson of forced calm through her body.
‘Just—’ she heaved another breath. ‘Homesickness.’
