“It’s not that I’m throwing our relationship away,” I say slowly. “I can’t see my life without her. But I also can’t get the image of the look on her face out of my mind. That moment after she saw the email. That look of betrayal has haunted me for days, and I feel like my hands are tied because I can’t confide in her about what happens at the job, even if it pertains to her family. And that tells me that I’ll never have her trust. Not fully.”

“I think you’re doing a lot of assuming,” Tom replies. “If I were you, I’d get my arse on a plane to Ireland and have it out with her until you see eye to eye and can work past it. Staying here and pouting isn’t going to solve anything.”

“I’m not pouting.”

“Aren’t you?” He laughs, shakes his head, and raps his knuckles on the table. “Looks that way to me. My money’s on you, lad. It always has been.”

He walks behind the bar to help Keegan tend to customers, and I push my mostly full beer away, no longer interested in it.

I’ll check Maggie’s house on my way home, just to make sure that everything is as it should be, and then lose myself in work.

The way I always do.

Three days later, with Def Leppard pounding in my ears, I’m punching the hell out of a bag in Hunter’s gym. He’s always given the family full access to the facilities whenever we want to work out, and since I still can’t sleep well, I decided to come here and punch something that doesn’t bleed or punch back.

After twenty minutes, when I’m a sweaty mess, I turn to reach for a towel on my way to the treadmill, where I plan to run for a while.

But when I turn, someone’s behind me.

And in the almost dark, I almost swore it was Maggie.

“Good morning,” Maeve says.

“Sorry, I didn’t see you,” I say after pulling one earbud out of my ear and letting it fall over my shoulder. “Did I wake you when I shut my car door?”

“No, I was awake,” she says and pats her belly. I swear, it's grown in the week since I last saw her. “This little one seems to like being active mostly at night. It’s the weirdest feeling, having a little thing tumbling around inside of you, kicking your ribs and kidneys.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Not yet. I’ve been told that in another month or so it will, so I’m not really complaining. I just miss a good night’s sleep.”

“I understand that.”

She’s quiet as I unravel the tape from my hands and then finally look over at her. “What’s on your mind?”