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I pick through the clothes, throwing them at Maeve, who catches them and quickly folds and puts them into her suitcase. Maeve is still a bit quiet, like she can’t believe I’m capable of being a decent guy.
When she finishes, she looks at me expectantly. I frown. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“You aren’t going to clean up the other clothes? I don’t think you want to walk back in here when we get back and have a mess.”
Maeve blushes furiously. “You’re right. Ugh. I’d die of embarrassment if Allison had to see all this.”
She starts cleaning up the clothes. “Who’s Allison?”
“My best friend, she’s watering my herb garden while I’m gone.”
I see the grid hanging down on one wall, rows of plants in tiny pots that give the place a homey feel. “Should’ve known you’d have an herb garden.”
“Don’t even start,” Maeve warns me, hanging clothes back up and folding them and putting them away.
“What? I’m just making an observation.”
Maeve rolls her eyes, and I realize she thinks I was insulting her with that comment. I sigh. “Maeve, you’re a great baker and you clearly enjoy doing it. That’s what I meant.”
“Oh.” Maeve’s cheeks go a bit pink. She gives me a look out of the corner of her eye. “Stop being nice to me. It’s weird. I don’t like it.”
“All right, in that case, you are making us concerningly late for the flight.”
That’s not true, we chartered a jet, but Maeve glares at me, and it makes me feel like we’re back onto safer ground. Maeve might not know what to do with me being nice to her, but I’m honestly not sure what to do with how protective I feel toward her. Maeve and I snipe at each other constantly, this new territory feels… dangerous.
I take Maeve’s luggage, and Maeve coos goodbye to her herbs, reassuring them she’d be back soon and that Allison will take good care of them. I roll my eyes and make sure Maeve sees it.
“Oh, knock it off.” Maeve grabs a container from the fridge and then shoves past me to exit the apartment. I follow her.
“Of course you’re the type who talks to her plants.”
“Studies have shown that—”
We bicker all the way down to the street, until Gerry pulls up from circling the block. When Maeve gets in, she hands him the container she grabbed from the fridge. It’s the lemon bars he loves, because of course that’s what the container is.
From the place she lives, it’s clear to me that Maeve has very little or no money to spare, and yet she’s spent all of December bringing in baked goods every day for the office, same as last year. She made Gerry his favorite treat to thank him for driving us to the airport. She drives me nuts sometimes with these kinds of stunts, but you can’t ever deny that Maeve is thoughtful and thinks of other people.
It baffles me that someone, even an arrogant, self-centered idiot like Liam, could fail to appreciate her. The guy’s stupider than I thought.
Gerry and Maeve make small talk as we get to JFK Airport, Maeve asking about his kids, clearly already knowing all about how his son is on the baseball team and they’re debating if he wants to continue it in college, and how his daughter loves horses.
“Her lessons are going great,” Gerry says proudly. “I don’t think she’ll ever compete but she’s starting to talk about going into veterinary medicine. The wife worries she’s going to end up on a farm somewhere in the middle of Montana and we’ll never see her.”
Maeve laughs. “I’m glad she’s able to afford lessons, did she get a scholarship?”
“Mr. Russo insisted on paying for them.”
I glare at Gerry, who pleasantly ignores it, as he does all my glares. Maeve glances over at me, eyes a bit wide. I clear my throat. “See, you don’t know everything about my life the way you think you do.”
After all, Maeve might own my calendar, but she doesn’t own my bank account.
Maeve rolls her eyes and goes back to talking to Gerry, but sometimes I catch her glancing my way like she’s trying to figure me out. I’m not sure what there is to figure out, honestly. I had the money so I helped an employee out. I know what it’s like to have no money to spare. And I especially know what it’s like to be a kid and not be able to do the things you want to do, be who you want to be. I like to help kids out the way I wish someone had helped me out, back when it was my turn to struggle.
We get to the airport and the car is escorted through onto the tarmac, where Gabriel and Ford wait on the jet.
“I’m so sorry,” Maeve says the moment we board. “It’s my fault we’re late.”
