Read Chapter 18: A BAD WEEK

Healing, Maeve discovered, was offensively non-linear.

In June, Julian cancelled dinner because Lucy had a fever.

Maeve understood.

Then he cancelled a weekend in Galway because Sarah needed emergency surgery for appendicitis and he took Lucy for several days.

Maeve understood that too.

Understanding did not prevent the old voice from waking.

You are optional.

You are entering someone else’s family.

Leave before you are displaced.

She did not tell Julian.

Instead she worked late, answered messages slowly, and accepted a two-week production job in Amsterdam for September without mentioning it.

By the time Julian noticed the distance, she had convinced herself nothing was wrong.

He came into Bellwether after closing.

“Are we okay?”

“Yes.”

He waited.

Maeve rearranged receipts.

“Maeve.”

“What?”

“You’ve cancelled twice this week and you answer me like I’m a bank notification.”

“I’m busy.”

“All right. Are you busy, or are you upset?”

The question felt invasive because it was accurate.

“I said I’m fine.”

Julian leaned against the counter. “I’m not asking you to perform distress. I’m asking whether something changed.”

Maeve wanted to say no.

Then she saw Thomas outside St Vincent’s, standing forty minutes behind a promise instead of entering.

“Yes,” she said.

Julian remained still.

“When you cancelled Galway, I knew why. Sarah had surgery. Lucy needed you. Obviously.”

“Yes.”

“But part of me thought: there it is. This is your actual life, and I’m the extra.”

His face softened.

Maeve held up a hand. “Don’t reassure me yet. I know it’s not rational.”

“Feelings don’t need to pass an exam before we discuss them.”

“Please stop being emotionally competent. It’s exhausting.”

He smiled faintly.

Maeve continued. “Then I got embarrassed that I felt it, so I decided not to need anything.”

“By disappearing.”

“A little.”

“A lot.”

“Fine.”

Julian took a breath. “You are not extra.”

Maeve looked away.

“You’re also right that Lucy changes what my life can look like,” he said. “She will always need consideration. Sarah will sometimes need consideration because we parent together. I can’t promise you’ll always come first in every circumstance.”

Pain flashed through Maeve before he continued.

“But I can promise I won’t make you guess whether you matter.”

She looked at him.

“That’s more useful,” she said.

“I thought so.”

Maeve hesitated.

“I accepted a job in Amsterdam.”

“When?”

“September. Two weeks.”

“Okay.”

“I didn’t tell you.”

“I gathered.”

“You’re not angry?”

“I’m concerned you accepted it as an escape hatch.”

She winced.

“But two weeks in Amsterdam is also just two weeks in Amsterdam,” he said. “Do you want the job?”

Maeve considered.

“Yes. Actually. It’s a museum launch. Good client. Interesting project.”

“Then go.”

“And us?”

“We own telephones.”

The simplicity felt almost insulting.

“You mean I can leave and still come back.”

Julian’s expression changed.

“Yes, Maeve.”

The sentence reached somewhere deep.

She had treated staying as the opposite of movement. As if love required permanent physical proof, and work travel meant rehearsal for abandonment.

Maybe staying was not location.

Maybe it was return.

That night they ate takeaway on the shop floor because Maeve had not yet finished stocktaking.

At eleven, Julian’s phone rang. Lucy could not sleep.

He answered.

Maeve listened to him explain patiently that no, a spider could not enter through a closed upstairs window merely because “they are ambitious.”

When he hung up, Maeve said, “You should go.”

“She’s with Sarah. She’s fine.”

“You want to go.”

Julian looked at her.

“Yes.”

“Then go.”

He kissed her.

“I’ll call when I get there.”

Maeve watched him leave.

The bell rang.

This time, departure did not sound like an ending.