Page 42 of On The Rocks

Atlas’s mouth hitched. “MC romances, you say?”

“Yeah, as in books,” she confessed. “I’m more of a fantasy and historical romance girl—on account of being a historian, I guess.” She gave him big eyes, and I watched his lips curve wider. “But I’ll give all genres a go. I don’t discriminate against books. All stories are beautiful in their own ways,” she peered up at Atlas through her thick-rimmed glasses, “don’t you think?”

Atlas gazed down at her dreamily as if he’d been bewitched. “Yeah, Toots. I certainly do.”

“Yo!” Donovan barked from the corner. “Got no sugar for your favorite brother?”

“Donny!” Maeve shrieked, whipping around and rushing toward him. “I missed you!” She flew into his arms and hugged him tight before pulling back to look up at him. “Thanks for the late-night call. I was wired after my meeting, and you really helped me calm down and think about the opportunity I’d been offered.”

A heavy feeling slid through my gut. “What opportunity?” My stare shifted to Donovan. “And what late-night fucking call?”

Maeve turned her big, blue eyes on me. “Oh, hey there,” she said breezily before turning her back on me coldly.

My gut sank.

Bowie looked between us before coughing, “Doghouse.”

I let out a ‘don’t give a fuck’ grunt, but in reality, the bitter taste of disappointment hit the back of my throat while a strange heaviness enveloped my chest.

It was clear I’d really gone fucked up.

As soon as we said our vows, I felt a sense of camaraderie with Maeve that I hadn’t had since my brothers and I were young. It was obviously normal to experience those weird ass feelings after what had happened; I mean, I wasn’t entirelyemotionally constipated. Still, when Maeve and I made that pact in the church about doing things our way, I experienced something quite deep for my usually unbothered ass.

I realized I really liked the person I was with.

The problem was, the second I became aware of it, I got spooked and pulled a dick move by making it so she didn’t like me. I mean, God forbid I actually got along well with a woman who I wasn’t blood-related to and developed some damned feelings.

And I made her not like me really fucking well because my wife wouldn’t even look at me, let alone have a conversation and allow me to apologize about the other disaster that manifested that day, namely Shannon Doyle and my secret assignation with her.

The entire day turned out to be shit, with a big dash of show and a splash of fuck you, Callum, for good measure.

When we got home, I dumped Maeve in my apartment and threw myself into getting the bar open again. Then, wifey announced she was flying back to NYC for a couple of days for some big meeting about a job, and away she went again.

So much for marital bliss. I knew living separate lives was what I told Maeve I wanted. Still, over the passing days, I’d realized I was suffering from a big ol’ case of ‘be careful what you wish for’ because I found I missed having her around.

And now she was here, charming the leather off Hambleton’s answer to the Village People, and her spontaneous laughter was doing funny things to my chest cavity.

Bowie was right; I was well and truly fucked. If I was honest with myself, I’d been fucked since I picked her up off Patrick’s hallway floor and she’d hit me directly in the heart with her cosmic eyes.

It wasn’t insta-love, but it was insta-something, maybe insta-like. Except now Maeve was ignoring my ass; it was turning intoinsta-obsession. The chick was driving me nuts, I even found my britches getting tight at the crotch when I caught a whiff of her subtle, flowery perfume, and for the life of me, I couldn’t work out where the fuck my head was at when I announced I didn’t want us to fuck each other.

Maeve’s peal of laughter pulled me away from my thoughts. By then, she’d moved across to meet Bowie, as evidenced by the way he pulled out his wallet to show her pictures of all his kids.

She handled the photographs as if they were lost treasure. “Sweet baby Jesus,” she breathed, staring down at the images. “I think your children are amongst the most beautiful I’ve ever seen.”

I watched my bud visibly melt, and my insides melted right along with him.

Atlas appeared at my side and nodded toward my wife. “I see you’re finally getting it, though goin’ by the way she’s blowing your stupid ass off, it may already be too late. I was the same at first with my Stitch, tryin’a convince myself she wasn’t mine.”

“She’s not mine,” I protested quietly. “Jesus, don’t let her hear you say that shit. She’ll get ideas. You know I don’t do serious.”

Atlas exhaled through his nose, his lips thinning as he shook his head at me. “It’s true what they say; you can’t educate pork.” He gave me a hard clap on the back. “You’ll learn the hard way, dipshit.” Pursing his lips, he let out a sharp whistle. “Wrap it up, Bo. We gotta jet. Church in thirty.”

Bowie gave him a chin lift, tucking his photographs back inside his wallet.

“Good to meet ya, Toots,” Atlas declared. “I’ll get my Stitch to call in and introduce herself. They’re always over at the coffee shop or the salon talking to Tristan. My woman would love to show you around town, especially seeing as this fuckwit hasn’t bothered.”

“She’s been in New York...” I began, but my protest fell on deaf ears while my wife kissed cheeks, gave exuberant hugs, and got caught up in a flurry of goodbyes.

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