Take A Chance With Me (With Me in Seattle 18)

“You’re right,” Maeve says and stands to wrap her arms around me, kissing my cheek. “She does. And I’m glad that you finally realized that you’re the man to do it.”

“I’ve known for a while, but it wasn’t the right time. It is now. Damn it, I don’t want to stay away from her anymore.”

“Then don’t,” Kane says simply and claps his hand on my shoulder. “She’s not fragile. She’s a good woman, and it’s a lucky man you are if she’s decided to give you her attention.”

“She brought me donuts this morning.”

My friend’s brows shoot up in surprise. “And you didn’t save me any, did you, you selfish bastard?”

“Hell, no. Your girl bakes, get your own donuts.”

“I see how this is going to be,” Kane says, but there’s laughter in his eyes. “It’s happy I am that you’re after my sister. She’s a good lass, and you both deserve happiness.”

“I’m not marrying her.”

They all raise their eyebrows, and I can’t help but laugh.

“Not yet, at least. She’s not ready for that.”

“Are you?” Shawn asks.

“I’d marry her tomorrow. But she’s still wary. We’re going to take it slow.”

“That’s the right way to go,” Maeve says and then looks around when everyone laughs. “What?”

“You didn’t take your time with Hunter,” Kane says.

“None of you took it slow,” I remind them, but then look at Shawn. “Well, you might have been a little slow on the uptake, now that I think about it.”

“I got there in the end,” he says with a shrug. “It’ll go at the pace that works for the both of you.”

“If it’s our blessing you were looking for, I’d say you have it,” Keegan says.

“Yeah, I guess that’s what I wanted. Thanks.”

“Where are you taking her on Thursday?” Maeve wants to know.

“Seattle. We’re getting off this island for a few hours to be anonymous and have a good time.”

“Good for you,” Kane says. “You know, you didn’t have to come to us about this. We wouldn’t have said no.”

“Yeah, I did. Like I said, you’re my family, and Maggie’s been through it. I needed to make sure that you’re okay with me seeing her. Because I won’t get started with her and then give her up. I know I can’t do that.”

“We’ve watched you change your life around this past year,” Shawn says. “And we all suspected it was for Maggie. Love is written all over your face when you look at her.”

“It’s really sappy,” Keegan adds, giving me a hard time. “So go after the girl already.”

Chapter 3

~Maggie~

Lighting? Check. Phone in the holder thing? Yes.

“Let’s get this done in one take today, okay?” I pace the room and blow raspberries through my lips, loosening up. No one in the family knows that I do this. It’s just a little side thing that’s fun. Different.

I love to sing.

And I’ve found a social media outlet for said singing.

Not to mention, three million viewers seem to enjoy the songs.

I like to sing Irish ballads with candles lit. It’s just me and the camera in the bathroom because that’s where I get the best acoustics. I’ve learned that one-minute songs get the most views, but sometimes I post a three-minute piece if I get carried away.

I turn off the overhead light. In the glow of the candles, I press record and begin to sing about a love lost at sea. I turn up the Irish lilt just a bit, even though I don’t have any accent at all, and thirty seconds into the song, the phone stops recording, interrupted by a call.

“Bugger it,” I mutter, frustrated because that was going to be a great take.

I press the button to answer the call. “Hello?”

“Please don’t hang up,” a woman says, and I furrow my brow. I don’t recognize her voice.

“Who is this?”

“I’m Heather Fisher. I just—”

I hang up, ball my hands into fists, and back away until I hit the wall behind me.

My mouth is suddenly dry.

“Shit,” I whisper and clench my eyes closed. “Shit, shit, shit.”

I won’t be able to sing now, so I flip the light on, blow out the candles, and take my phone out of the stand. As I stomp out of the bathroom, I call my sister.

Maeve answers on the third ring. “Hey there. You have perfect timing. I was just leaving a showing down the street from you. What’s going on?”

“I just got a call.” I relay what happened and plop down on a chair in my living room.

“And you hung up?”

“Hell, yes, I did. I don’t want to know what she wants, Maeve. It’s been two years, and damn it, I’m moving on with my life. I don’t want to go back there.”

“Don’t you think you should at least hear what she has to say?”

“No. I don’t. Anyway, I need advice, and it has nothing to do with my philandering late husband.”