Page 70 of Two Hit Wonder

They stood in the living room, not quite looking at each other. Iona could hear Mo banging around in her bedroom, probably taking her time on purpose because teenagers had a sixth sense for adult tension and loved to marinate in it.

"Tea?" Iona offered.

"No, thank you."

"Water?"

"I'm fine."

"Right." Iona clasped her hands together, then unclasped them. "Good. That's good."

More silence. Somewhere in the flat, Mo dropped something heavy and swore.

"Language," Iona called automatically.

"Sorry," Mo called back, not sounding sorry at all.

Maeve's mouth twitched. Almost a smile. Iona felt something loosen up in her chest, just slightly.

Mo emerged with her overnight bag slung over one shoulder and her phone already in her hand. "Dad's outside," she said. "I'm going."

"Have fun. Text me when you get there."

"It's a ten-minute drive."

"Text me anyway."

Mo rolled her eyes but kissed Iona on the cheek as she passed. She paused at the door, looked back at Maeve. "Thanks again. For the limo thing."

"Anytime," Maeve said.

"What limo thing?" Iona asked, confused.

Mo grinned at Maeve. "Nothing. Just… a thing." And then she was gone, the door clicking shut behind her.

It was the first time Iona had seen Mo grin in what felt like forever, so she didn’t probe too deeply.

The flat went quiet.

Iona took a breath. She'd been rehearsing this all day, running through different versions in her head while she threw pots she'd later have to destroy because her mind wasn't on them. None of the versions had felt right. But maybe that was the point. Maybe she just had to say it badly and hope it landed anyway.

"My reaction last night was unfair," she said. "I saw that bottle and I panicked, and I treated you like you were still the person you were fifteen years ago. But you're not. That's not who's standing in my living room right now."

Maeve didn't say anything. Her expression was unreadable.

"I'm asking for your forgiveness," Iona continued. "Honestly. Directly. I was wrong, and I'm sorry."

The silence stretched. Iona resisted the urge to fill it with more words, more apologies, more explanations. She'd said what she needed to say. Now it was Maeve's turn.

"It hurt," Maeve said finally. Her voice was quiet. "I won't pretend it didn't. Fifteen years of work, and one look from you made me feel like none of it mattered."

Iona's throat tightened. "I know."

"But I understand where it came from." Maeve met her eyes. "I gave you years of reasons to be afraid of me. I can't be angry that you learned the lesson I taught you."

"That doesn't make it fair. What I did."

"No. But since when has any of this been fair?"