Page 105 of Two Hit Wonder

Iona took a breath. Her eyes were very blue in the dim backstage light, very serious, very certain. "I love you."

The words hit Maeve somewhere in the center of her chest. She'd waited so long to hear them. Fifteen years. No, longer. Since they were fourteen and stupid and didn't know anything about the world except that they wanted to be in it together.

"I think I’ve been waiting forever to hear that," she muttered. "Maybe longer."

"Well, you should have answered the phone then."

Maeve laughed, joyous and bright. "I'm getting a place in London. My cottage is done, but if we're going to be recording an album, I'm going to need somewhere closer."

"You could stay with me," Iona said.

"I know."

They grinned at each other like idiots. Like teenagers. Like two people who had finally, finally found their way back to each other.

"I love you," Maeve said. The words came out easier than she'd expected. "I've never wanted anyone else. Not really. It was always you."

Iona opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Mo appeared around the equipment cases, phone in hand, looking like a teenager who had just received the best news of her life.

"Mum! Maeve! Oh my god, guess what."

"What?" Iona said.

"Beau texted me. He saw the set. He said, and I quote, 'your mum is awesome.'" Mo's eyes were shining. "He texted me. Voluntarily. Without me texting first."

Maeve laughed. She couldn't help it. After everything, after the confession and the declarations, this was what mattered to a fourteen-year-old. Of course it was.

"So what are you going to do?" Iona asked.

Mo rolled her eyes with all the world-weary wisdom of someone who had been alive for fourteen entire years. "Please. Beau had his chance. Besides, there's a new boy who just moved into the flat upstairs. His name's Oliver and he's got the best taste in music." She flipped her hair. "He likes The Stage Women already. I told him I could get him an autograph."

"Mo!" Shepherd's voice carried across the chaos. "Come here, I need your help with something."

"Congrats, by the way," Mo said. "You know, the whole kissy thing." Then she waved at them and disappeared, already texting on her phone.

Iona leaned into Maeve's shoulder. Maeve put an arm around her and held on. "The whole kissy thing," she said into Maeve’s shirt, laughing. Then she stopped and looked up. "Do you think this will work out?"

"All what?"

"All of it. The band. The album." She paused. "Us."

Maeve turned to look at her. At this woman she'd loved since she was old enough to know what love meant. At this face she'd dreamed about for fifteen years in a cottage in Scotland, too afraid to reach for what she wanted.

She wasn't afraid anymore.

She lifted Iona's chin with gentle fingers. Kissed her, soft and tender, in the chaos and the noise of everything they'd built together.

"I have no idea," she whispered against Iona's lips. "But won't it be fun to find out?"

Epilogue

The box was heavier than it looked. Iona had packed it herself, so she only had herself to blame, but she was fairly sure that books bred in the dark. There was no other explanation for why a box labeled "Mo's school stuff" weighed approximately the same as a small car.

"Mum." Mo appeared in the doorway, arms crossed, face arranged into an expression of studied misery. "I can't find my charger."

"Which charger?"

"My phone charger."