Page 39 of Sparks Still Fly

ARTHUR:

And seriously, you gotta tell her. She loves these horses almost as much as I do, and you know I’m bordering on an unhealthy amount.

ARTHUR:

Does she know how long you looked for this house for? What you did to get the place? Have you told her anything?

OWEN:

I repeat: mind your own business.

ARTHUR:

You sure are grumpy for a newlywed. At least your wife is nice. And she shares her snacks with me.

Another day’s gone by, and it’s been nothing if not complete, blissful torture. She mostly stays in the guesthouse, and I find stupid reasons to check on her.

The weather is supposed to cool off tonight. Do you have enough blankets?

How’s the Wi-Fi out here?

I’m going into town for groceries. Do you need anything?

Don’t mind me. Just watering the garden. Again.

Even though I know there are extra blankets in every room.

Even though I made sure the signal was strong weeks ago.

Even though I know I had her fridge and pantry stocked.

Even though it had rained the day before.

I am a pathetic excuse of the man I claim to be. Around Maeve Howard, I can’t be held responsible for the stupid things I say and do. Like when I admitted to knowing what her favorite snacks are. She thought Lainey got them for her, and I just had to correct her. I couldn’t leave well enough alone.

I don’t know what’s worse at this point. All the time I had to spend away from her, or knowing that she’s a hundred feet away almost at all times and not being able to do anything about it. It borders on painful, this closeness. She’s my wife, for fuck’s sake. My wife! I still can’t believe that I got drunk enough to let that happen, and it pisses me off that I can’t remember more than a few moments of that night.

But I got as drunk as I did thinking that I’d have a baby girl here with me by now. Except that’s not going according to plan either, with how backed up the California courts are. Regardless of the roadblocks, though, I’ll fight for her. Clay and Monica wanted me to raise her. And that’s what I’ll do. Somehow, this baby girl feels every bit mine as Maeve does, except neither actually is.

Yet.

After I’ve deep cleaned the fridge and taken out the trash, I know I have no other chores to do around the house. I took time away from helping Raf with Aegis Security since he doesn’t really need me anyway, and I really need to figure out what to do with all this time on my hands. There aren’t any deliveries coming for Julia today, and the things that have arrived from Lainey and Ma’s shopping spree are already set up.

I kind of want to get out of here. Go somewhere.

Maybe Maeve would like to come?

That’s a stupid thought. She wouldn’t want to go for a drive somewhere. Not with me. Unless she would, because she’s also been cooped up here with nothing to do but stare at the mountains for days.

Fuck it.

I grab my wallet and keys from the table by the door and make my way to the guesthouse.

As I step up, I hear what sounds like a frustrated grunt coming from the back porch that faces the garden. I opt to look there before knocking on the door, and Maeve is sitting on a chair, a book so close to her face there’s no possible way she can see the words. Her shoulders are tight, pulled up close to her ears. I knock on one of the posts to get her attention and she spins around quickly, throwing the book at me.

“What the bloody hell, Owen!” I catch the book as it flaps somewhere near my knees, chuckling at her reaction.

“Sorry. Sorry... I didn’t mean to startle you.” I hold back another laugh as she purses her lips.

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