“Who knows, you know the cartel has eyes and ears everywhere. Technically, she didn’t lie to you, though and I don’t think they want to kill Maeve, just to be clear.”
Clear as ice, and it makes me rage.
I hit him with an irritated glare. “It was a lie.”
“You didn’t tell her either. It sounds like you have a communication problem. Work on it. You’ve been in a fucked-up situation since you met. Now that the threat is minimal, you’re having normal couple problems. Communication. You have to talk about everything, and I do mean everything. Ask about her period cramps, how she’s feeling emotionally and physically, what she wants for dinner the day before you cook. You need to delve into the pits of womanhood now.” Isaac chuckles. “This is a mere lover’s quarrel. Nothing that can’t be solved. Figures that now that your lives aren’t on the line, you’re letting insecurities tear you apart.”
“That’s a stretch,” I say, raising one brow. “I am not insecure about anything.”
He presses his lips together in a thin line. “Love by definition is being insecure about everything, my friend. Call it what you want, but you’re letting it pick at your relationship.”
Running my hands through my hair, I think he might be right. The damn prick. “I need that weekend away to really reconnect now that I’m cleared for everything.”
Isaac claps me on the back. “Congrats, man. Glad to know you’re off the couch and back in the sack. I thought the cabin was booked.”
“It is.” I lay a hand on my truck door handle.
Isaac is leaning against his SUV, rubbing his thumb across the rubber on the window, back and forth. He just gave me the bags I had him buy at the mall. I chastised him for keeping them in his vehicle all day while we were at work because of how much the things were worth, but he pleaded that they were safer here where gate guards were protecting the parking lot, than in the office where hundreds of people stream through every day.
“We can’t wait to have Turner. This is what you need. It’s going to be great. Do nothing but fuck… and talk.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll talk to you later.” I yank on the handle and open the door. I’m just rounding to Turner’s school pick-up line when Maeve’s ringtone chimes through the Bluetooth. I answer on the first ring. It’s not the end of the day, I’m surprised she’s not with a patient.
“Hey, I forgot to tell you something earlier.” Her voice sounds sad. Oh, no.
“We were pressed for time. What’s up? Am I seeing you for dinner tonight?” I see her every night, but now that I’m cleared to do life, things shine a little differently. Maeve has her own house, her own life, all the things that don’t include me. Everything might change now that I don’t need her.What is that, Lincoln? Oh, right. Insecurity. I fucking hate Isaac.
“Do you remember when I told you I applied Ramona’s work for that show down in Denver? It was a crapshoot, especially because I was submitting for her, but they got back to me and she’s in. They’re giving her a whole section.” She pauses. “It’s really awesome. She’s excited.”
“That is amazing. I see only good here, what’s the problem? I’m sure you didn’t worry about telling me this earlier because it was so great.”
Maeve sighs. “It’s this weekend, Lincoln. I can’t go to the cabin with you. Our trip is off. I need to be here for Ramona. There’s no way I can make her do this alone. She’ll need an assistant. I’m at her place tonight to help her start getting everything together. She has paint everywhere. Like, I’m not sure it’s ever going to come out of her hair. I’m going to miss dinner at your house tonight.”
I want to punch something. I also want to throttle artwork, a brand-new feeling I’m not used to and didn’t know was possible. I remind myself to be understanding.
“Of course. We can reschedule.” I feel like I’m not even celibate by choice at this point. The world is working against us full force. “Are you coming over after you’re finished at Ramona’s studio?”
Maeve clears her throat. “I’m going to stay at my place tonight. It’s closer to Ramona. I’ll see you tomorrow though.” There’s distance in her words. A space forming that I can’t control because she’s the one creating it.
“Sure thing,” I say.
“Okay, bye.”
“Hey,” I add quickly before she hangs up.
“Yeah?”
“Ditto, Maeve.”
The line is silent for several seconds. Then I hear her take a long breath and then she whispers, “Ditto.” The line goes dead immediately after. Isaac’s words are haunting me. I need to communicate with her better. I didn’t tell her how I’m feeling. If I’m feeling it then she is, too. We’re in tune. It’s always been part of our connection. I see Turner run out of the building, tearing down the sidewalk to my truck. His eyes light when he sees me driving. I lean over and open the door for him to hop in.
“Daddy! You’re here!” He scoots over on the bench seat and leans into a side hug. I kiss the top of his head.
“I’m here. How was your day, buddy?”
“This is my favorite part of the day,” he exclaims. “Going home to see you and Maevey and Chonk.”
My heart plummets. This is too complicated to explain to the boy.