Page 60 of Sparks Still Fly

She smiles before pulling her entire bottom lip into her mouth, releasing it before I have a chance to beg her not to do that when we’re supposed to be talking.

“All right, but you can’t call me sunshine. Or Maevey. Or blondie. And definitely not fengári mou. I can’t be held responsible for what my lips do to yours if you say any of those.” She’s so serious, but I can’t hold back the chuckle that comes out as I nod in agreement to her terms.

“And you can’t suck your lip into your mouth like you just did, deal?”

She smiles so brightly it nearly knocks the wind out of me. Maeve hasn’t smiled like this in years. Not at me, anyway.

I don’t even get a chance to commit the moment to memory before she’s pushing herself up and off my lap, taking her cup of tea to the living room, giving me a moment to adjust the now painful erection in my shorts.

33/

i’d rather have you for now than not at all.

maeve

Is Owen James in love with me? I think Owen James is in love with me. Oh my God, my husband is definitely in love with me!

My hands are shaking so badly, I’m certain some of my tea has spilled out of the cup I’m not so carefully putting on the small side table next to the big comfy chair in Owen’s living room. As I sit, silently promising my vagina some form of release after that torturous but delectable dry-hump in the kitchen, the weight of Owen’s words begin to settle on me.

I had wanted him to love me for so long that, for a while, I’m not sure there was anything else I wanted more. Not even my acting career. I always wanted him more than I wanted a role or any kind of success. But then I let him go. And I allowed myself to want those other things again. I allowed myself to want my career as much as I had wanted him. If anything had to take his place in my mind and in my heart, I’m glad I chose acting.

I’ve prided myself in being someone who goes after what she wants for my whole life. It’s been my purpose, my mission, and my biggest source of self-worth. I’ve never given up on anything except Owen. That was a dream I let go of a long time ago. A dream that I thought was permanently washed away. A dream that I work hard to push away every single moment of every single day because I’ve known for quite some time now that it’s the only one I absolutely cannot have.

But here he is, all but telling me he loves me. Telling me there’s nothing he won’t do for me. Telling me he wants me.

The man I resented for so long has washed away all of those ugly feelings by opening himself up to me. The same man who has given up so much of himself for other people. And he keeps doing it. Julia isn’t even here yet and already he’s committed to this guardianship role as though he was made for it, and I have no doubts that he was. Whatever plans he had surely didn’t include Julia, but he’s changing his life for her, regardless. Never complaining.

How can I possibly ask him to take a chance on us when he already has so much going on? How can I ask him for anything when I don’t know the first thing about being a good wife or mum? Especially not being a mum.

The thought sends pins and needles all over my body as the uneasiness of it seeps into my skin. My breathing starts to feel too shallow, and a headache starts at my temples.

“Maeve?” Owen’s soft voice pulls me out of my spiraling thoughts. When I look up, clearly panicked and no longer in a lusty haze, he practically jumps over the coffee table to get to me, kneeling down in front of the chair.

“Hey. No, no, no. Whatever it is that’s going on in your head right now, whatever’s trying to talk you out of having this conversation and finally fixing things between us, please tell it to shut the fuck up. Please.” He kisses my cheeks, wiping at the tears that are falling freely. “Just tell me what it is, and we’ll work it out, Maevey.” My gaze locks onto his emerald eyes, and I can feel the raw truth emanating from them, so intense that it pierces my soul with a pureness like no other.

A single sob shakes me, and several others follow, causing my shoulders to hunch, my body instinctively wanting to cave in on itself, to protect my aching heart that simply can’t take any more beatings.

Owen is the kind of man who could make me believe I could break whatever generational curse makes it so the women in my family are incapable of sharing anything but their bodies with a man. He makes me want to believe I could start anew. He makes me want to believe I could be different from my mother and my grandmother, who were incapable of loving their husbands or their children more than they loved their pretty things and their so-called independence. But I know that’s not the truth.

His hands move to my back, roaming cautiously in an attempt to soothe an ache he doesn’t know exists.

“I can’t do this.” It slips out quietly between sobs, and for a moment, I’m not sure he heard me. Then his body stills, and I know even without looking at him that he heard.

“What do you mean?” His hands rest on either side of me, no longer touching me and I feel as though I’m drifting away without an anchor.

“Your daughter is going to be here soon, and I’m not… I’m not going to be her mum. That’s not…” He nods, brows furrowed as he swallows, and my heart drops to my feet. He’s not saying anything. “I didn’t have a sweet, loving mum like you did, O. I don’t know anything about babies, or how to raise them. I don’t know what makes a good wife. I don’t know what a good mum does or says. I just can’t. I’m so sorry, Owen,” I say on a whisper. My sobs have subsided, but my eyes are leaky taps with no way to fix them. I wish I could know what he’s thinking. What he’s feeling. If it’s disappointment or relief. But there’s nothing. I can’t get a read on him.

“Why are you apologizing?” His face scrunches up in confusion, and the look in his eyes is unreadable.

“Because we’ve only kissed for the first time in seven years, five minutes ago, and now I’m doing this. Because we’re married, but we don’t even remember how it happened. Because we can’t stay married. Because this is a mess, Owen! And we can’t complicate it even more with flirting and kissing and orgasms!” More tears stream down my face as Owen straightens so we’re face-to-face, but he still doesn’t touch me.

“All right. I’m not even gonna touch the comment about you being a mom, because I get that it’s a lot. I get that it’s not something you ever wanted.” I want to correct him, to tell him that I did allow myself to want it once, before he broke my heart. Before I saw that I’m a lot more like my mum than I wanted to believe. That like her, I’m always chasing the next goal, and that I put my needs above everyone else’s. But I don’t because it seems pointless to talk about Catherine. It seems counterproductive to bring up what happened so many years ago.

With eyes steady on me, Owen continues, “So I’ll ask this: what do you want, Maeve?” Such a simple question, but my mind is so muddled with everything that’s happened that I don’t even know anymore. “Okay, how about this? Do you want to be with me?”

I wipe at my face and nod, whispering, “Yes. Always.” Something like relief washes over his face.

“Then be with me. I know this is complicated, and it’s not what you want, but just… be with me. For however long you’re here. Be my wife for whatever time we have left. Whether it’s a few weeks or forever—just be with me.”

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