Page 98 of Forever Flames: Padraig & Stevie
The woman gave up everything for me. Exactly what I not-so-secretly hoped Stevie would do so many years ago. Now, I have exactly what I always thought I wanted and somehow feel more alone than I did before we met.
Goddammit.
Behind me, the office door opens. Liam’s voice cuts through, low and amused, “So. Are you telling Mara she’s not coming on tour, or you planning to ghost your convo till after the baby’s born?”
I keep my mouth shut. Slipping back into my old habit of avoidance in this case is the easiest, least confrontational thing.
Liam doesn’t wait for a response. “Ah, hell.”
“What?”
“Spit it out.” His ankle bounces as he scrolls through something on his phone, but his attention keeps drifting back to me. He waits.
“I haven’t told her she’s not coming,” I admit eventually.
He raises a brow. “No shit.”
“She’s pregnant, Liam.”
“She’s not fragile glass. We leave soon. You know how I feel about it.”
“Well, we’re on the same page. Last tour was rough and this time it’s not a healthy environment for her or the baby.” I suck in a breath. “My challenge is, things between us are…strange. I don’t want to be the bad guy. The way I figure it, Mara’s doctor will never allow her to come. There’s no reason to create tension between us when someone else will handle it. Alternatively, we can postpone some of the dates since we’re already gonna have to reschedule the last part of the tour once he’s born.”
Liam whistles under his breath. “Well, shit. I’m not sure we can at this late date.”
He doesn’t say what he’s really thinking. Fireball’s on the edge of something huge. Our songs are finally charting, we’re supposed to play to sold-out venues across Europe for six weeks. Now, with the Netflix deal, the last thing we need is for Mara to go into labor when we’re onstage in Paris.
I rub the inside of my wrist. “Her latest idea is to bring along her doctor. He’s gonna say no, so give it a few days and it should work out.”
Liam doesn’t look at me, but his expression says it all. It’s a stupid, expensive, indulgent idea and I should handle my personal shit.
My phone rings again. Fuck. It’s Ma. This is the third time she’s called tonight.
I debate whether to answer it, but decide it’ll be a distraction from the uncomfortable conversation with my brother.
“Hey, Ma,” I answer.
Her voice is thin, like she’s been crying. “Oh, God. Padraig.”
I freeze.
“What’s wrong?”
She exhales too fast. “Love. It’s—Stevie. There’s been an accident.”
Everything inside me goes rigid. My body forgets how to move.
Liam, who must have overheard, takes the phone from me and puts it on speaker. “What kind of accident?”
“Her husband was driving them home from dinner. A drunk driver crossed the center line.” Her voice cracks on the word drunk. “Cooper didn’t make it.”
I can’t breathe. The world tilts sideways.
“What about Stevie? The kids?” Liam prompts.
“She’s in surgery,” Ma chokes out. “It’s serious, love. Very serious. The wee ones are pretty banged up. Lucinda and Hank are with them at Swedish.”
I’m already reaching for my keys. “I’ll catch the next flight.”
