8. Nine Maeve

CHAPTER EIGHT

NINE: MAEVE

I slammed the kitchen door so hard it split the wooden lintel. Rowan jumped so high he knocked the chopping board off the counter, spraying perfectly-square-cut salad ingredients across the flagstone floor.

"Maeve." He dropped to the ground, not looking at me as he scrambled after a rolling tomato. "You scared me."

"I'm looking for Kelly," I growled.

Rowan's bottom lip trembled. Corbin burst through the door behind me. "I think you should calm down first?—"

"So Flynn can practically punch a guy on the street and we buy him a pint, but if I'm upset, it must be because I'm hysterical?" I stormed toward the hall. "Kelly came in a few minutes ago. Where did she go?"

"In the-the-the Great Hall," Rowan stuttered. "But Maeve, I wouldn't go in there?—"

"Why not? It's where we keep the fainting couch!" I shoved open the heavy wooden door. "Kelly, I want to talk to you?—"

I stopped in my tracks.

Connor sat in his bouncer on the rug, squealing as he sucked on a rattling giraffe. But it wasn't the giraffe that had me transfixed. Kelly and Jane sat on the couch, their bodies turned toward each other, their hands raised as they caressed each other's faces.

Their lips were locked in a passionate kiss.