Page 53 of Two Hit Wonder

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why did you name her after me?"

Iona stood up abruptly, moving to the window where Maeve had been standing before. She wrapped her arms around herself like she was cold, though the flat was warm enough.

"Because I never stopped thinking about you," she said to the glass. "Even when I tried. Even when I married Shepherd, even when I married Calinda, even when I told myself I was being ridiculous and needed to move on with my life like a normal person. I didn't know how to fix anything. I didn't know how to make it right. I thought about coming to find you a hundred times and I always talked myself out of it. What would I even say? What right did I have?"

She turned around. There were tears on her face, catching the light.

"All I knew was that I kissed my oldest friend and then she ran away, and I never got to find out what that meant. Whether it meant anything at all. Whether I'd imagined the whole thing. And… and maybe you’d run away because of me. Because of that night. Because… because we kissed."

Her voice cracked.

"So when I had a daughter, I named her after the person I couldn't stop thinking about. Because at least then I'd have something. Even if I never saw you again. Even if you'd built a whole new life without me and forgotten I existed. At least I'd have that one small thing. Like a memorial, I suppose."

Maeve couldn't move. She'd thought that the kiss meant nothing to Iona. That it had been a blip, a mistake, something Iona had probably forgotten by the next morning. She'd told herself that story so many times it had become the truth.

But this was a different story. This was Iona, standing in front of her with tears on her face, telling her that she'd named her daughter after a woman she couldn't forget.

The thinking that Iona forgot everything is wrong, whispered something in Maeve's head. All of it is wrong.

She’d never forgotten. Maeve had never forgotten. And she hadn’t run because of the kiss. Or maybe she had. Maybe it had been too much, too real, more than she could possibly handle. Or maybe she’d needed to be here, clean, sober, before she could let it happen again. Maybe she’d had to turn into the kind of person that would deserve to be kissed by Iona Faith.

Maeve's heart was in her mouth. She shouldn't be doing this. Every sensible part of her brain was screaming at her to stop, to protect herself, to remember that she'd already ruined this once and she'd probably ruin it again. She was a drunk. She was damaged. She'd broken everything she'd ever touched.

But Glinna's voice was there too, cutting through the noise. You can't just press pause on life and step away from it. You have to have more than that. You have a right to be happy, Maeve. Even you.

Even if she was a drunk. Even if she'd broken things before. Even if she'd spent fifteen years hiding in a cottage with only a hostile sheep for company. She had a right to try.

So she stood up. Crossed the space between them. Three steps. It felt like miles.

Then Maeve leaned in and kissed her.

Chapter Nineteen

She kissed Iona properly this time. Not the tentative brush of fifteen years ago, not the desperate crash of someone who'd had too much whiskey and not enough sense. This was deliberate. Thorough. The kind of kiss that said I mean this and also I'm probably going to regret this and also your shampoo smells exactly the same as it did in 2009, and that's doing something to my brain chemistry that I'm not equipped to handle.

Iona made a sound against her mouth, something between surprise and relief, and her hands came up to grip the front of Maeve's jacket like she was afraid Maeve might evaporate.

Which, historically speaking, was a reasonable concern.

Maeve pulled back. Not far. Just enough to see Iona's face, flushed and startled and so painfully hopeful that Maeve's chest wanted to explode.

Her brain wanted to explode.

This was all… a lot.

She cleared her throat. "I have to go."

The hope on Iona’s face flickered. "What?"

"Not like last time." The words came out rougher than she'd intended. "I'm not leaving. I'm not disappearing to Scotland. I just… I just need to go back to my hotel before I do something we're both going to regret."

Iona's hands were still holding her jacket. "What if I don't regret it?"

"Then one of us should have some sense, and we both know it's not going to be you."