Page 89 of Lucky Strike

“Why am I not surprised you knew about that?” I grin, sipping the Prosecco Rosé.

“Oh, I knew everything that went on with you kids.” She winks, pouring herself a glass of red. “I’d like to say I still do, but it’s a little different these days with everyone so busy.”

Hoping I’m not turning the shade of my wine, I take another sip. “Maeve texted me a few hours ago, said she managed to get an earlier flight.”

“I know!” Sloane clinks her glass to mine. “Owen doesn’t know though, so don’t tell him.”

“It’s so good to see you again, Bria,” Maya says, setting her wine glass down. Lucky’s godmother is a sexy, voluptuous woman, like a pin-up model from the fifties. We used to talk curly hair when I was younger, as I always admired her long, red ringlets. “It was so surprising seeing you at Mass, but then Sloane said you’d come on as Liam’s nanny! How’s that been going?”

I search her kind smile, trying to suss out any possible subtext. I’ve been an unofficial part of this family for a long time, but always as Maeve’s best friend. Now I’m living with Lucky, and even though it’s because I’m watching Liam, I have to wonder … dotheywonder? Women tend to have a sixth sense when it comes to hanky panky.

“It’s going great. I’ve worked for a few families, but Liam is, of course, the cutest.”

“Oh, he really is,” coos Maya, dipping a pita chip into a bowl of hummus between us. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a cute child. Well, besides my Livie.”

“Liam’s not the one I’m worried about,” Sloane says. My stomach drops to my feet, but she gazes serenely back. “I know how moody Con can be. Reminds me of my father as he gets older.”

I chuckle, washing away the prickle of discomfort with another sip of wine. I swear, Sloane does this on purpose, like she enjoys watching people squirm. “He works a lot, so we manage to stay out of each other’s way.”

Between her and Maya, it’s a blessed relief when the doorbell chimes and Maeve comes bursting into the kitchen. Sloane squeals, throwing herself at her daughter, and they dance around for a minute before Maeve gives everyone else hugs. She grins when she sees me, holding my hands as she looks over my dress.

“I’ve always said pink was your color.”

We text all the time but seeing her in the flesh just hits different. I hug her, noticing that she’s thinner than she was a few months ago. A little later, once we’ve managed to escape Sloane and her crew, I slide my arm around Maeve’s tiny waist. “How’re you doing? For real?”

“I’m okay. Touring is a dream, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss home.”

I cuddle her closer. “I bet. You look great.”

“Do I?” She looks down at herself, at the simple, black bandage dress that only accentuates how thin she’s become.

“You’ve lost some weight, but you dance what, ten hours a day?” I smile, feeding her a mini quiche.

“Yum.” Her eyes close as she chews. “Bet you five bucks Mom made these herself. And yes, I have lost weight. They had to take in one of my costumes.”

“Is everything okay?”

Her lower lip quivers, and she cuts eye contact. “Callum and I broke up.”

I can’t stand the guy, but I hate seeing her cry even more. “Shit, why didn’t you tell me? I’m so sorry, honey.”

She shakes her head. “He’s being an asshole.”

“What happened?”

“When I told him I was flying home for Dad’s birthday, he got all weird and asked why I couldn’t come out to Oakland for his, too. I visit him as much as I can, but Bria, my schedule is crazy. We’re always traveling and I just—I can’t.” She covers her face, ragged sobs ripping from her throat.

I hold her while she cries, stroking her hair.

“I’m sorry. I’m overtired,” she finally says, wiping her face. “You know how I get.”

“You’re exhausted. Physically, emotionally,” I say. “He should understand that.”

“He does.” She nods, pulling a tissue from her beaded purse. “Usually, he’ssounderstanding. I think we’re just tired of this whole long-distance thing. He’s got a ton on his plate, and so do I.”

Maeve has been through this with Callum so many times. He was sort of a brat in high school, and he’s only gotten more selfish and demanding over the years. None of her friends thinks he’s right for her, but she’s not ready to hear it. Once, senior year, Delphine spoke up during one of Maeve and Callum’s spats and they didn’t talk for weeks. As shitty as it is, Maeve will have to realize this herself.

Love is blind, I guess. I, as much as anybody, know that. We all have to make our own decisions, and sometimes we make the wrong ones.

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