Maisie smiled gently. "Well, if you figure out how to do that, you let know. I fell fast and hard for Connor and believe , as a widow with a twelve-year-old daughter at the ti, I tried very hard not to."
My eyes widened of their own accord. "Wow, really?"
She nodded. "We t when my car broke down outside of his friend’s shop. He just happened to be there delivering parts. He got on my way, and despite the fact we didn’t even live in the sa city, we seed to run into each other. Much to my chagrin, he wore down."
Connor chuckled. "This is very true."
"Did you not want to be with a chanic?" I asked, glancing at Connor. "No offense."
"So taken," he retorted, but tempered it with a grin.
"No, not at all," Maisie said. "I didn’t care what he did. I was still grieving the loss of my husband, despite him being ten years gone. He died of cancer when Poppy was two. At the ti, I was trying to run a business, raise a pre-teen, and grieve the loss of the man I’d loved since I was five, so it didn’t really leave open to possibilities." She smiled at Connor. "But then I t this man, and he tore down all my walls, showed that my heart could expand a hundred tis more than I could have ever imagined, and I couldn’t have stopped falling in love with him if I tried. Not to ntion, Poppy was determined for us to be together."
"Really?"
Maisie nodded. "She loved him first, I think."
"No, she didn’t," Connor countered. "She just helped you pull your head outta your ass."
"Connor adopted Poppy when he and Maisie got married," Gio said. "Poppy calls him Sid. He’s her Stand-In-Dad."
I bit back tears. "Well, that’s just like, the sweetest thing ever."
"It really is." Maisie smiled. "And now we have two other boys, one of which is married. Poppy is as well, so we have grandkids running around all over the place and I couldn’t be happier."
"That’s amazing."
"I agree." Maisie t my eyes. "But if I’d stopped the falling in love part of it, I would have missed it all. So, try not to shut your heart off too much, darling. You might miss so of the hurt, but you’ll miss all of the happy."
I smiled. "I’ll think about it, Maisie. Thanks."
Razor
I glanced at Hatch. So, he’d told Maisie about our conversation. Made sense. They shared everything. But I wasn’t sure how far she was going to go with this, so I felt like I needed to steer this conversation elsewhere. I just wasn’t sure where.
"This pot roast’s great, Maisie," I said.
"Thanks, love. Much like the pie Waverly made, it’s my grandmother’s recipe."
"Did you do sothing different with the gravy?" I asked.
"Uh, no." Maisie smirked. "I think there’d be mutiny if I changed anything with the gravy."
"You bet your goddamd gravy boat we would," Hatch retorted.
"Do you cook as well, Connor?" Waverly asked.
"Yeah. I love to cook. Try and do it a couple tis a week, but Maisie tends to get territorial, so I’m relegated to grillin’ more often than not."
Maisie laughed. "This is sadly true. I love, love, love to cook. But I should probably let you cook more, eh?"
Connor grinned, leaning over to squeeze her thigh. "Yeah, baby, you should let cook more."
The way Hatch was lookin’ at her, I wasn’t sure if he was going to shove everything off the table and fuck her right in front of us.
Maisie blushed before taking a deep breath. "Right, who’s ready for dessert?"
Hatch laughed, standing and grabbing his plate. "I’ll grab it."
"Is it better warm?" Maisie asked.
"Actually, it is," Waverly said. "I can help."
"I’ll just pop it in the oven for a few minutes while Connor clears the table." Maisie smiled. "You enjoy your wine."
Hatch helped back over to what I now considered ’my’ chair, while Waverly followed.
"How’s your pain," she asked once we were settled.
"It’s fine," I lied.
"You’re a bad liar, Gio." She frowned. "Can I get you an ice pack or ibuprofen? Or maybe both?"
I took a deep breath. "Yeah, actually, that’d be great."
She set her wine glass on the coffee table and stepped into the kitchen, getting everything she needed from Maisie, then joining again. After helping take the pills, she settled the ice pack on my shoulder, and I felt instant relief.
She smiled down at . "Better."
"So much better." I took her hand and squeezed it. "Thanks, beautiful."
"You’re welco."
She released and I wanted to snatch her hand back, but we weren’t there yet. Or at least, she wasn’t. Jesus, she was pretty. She wasn’t wearing her glasses, and I guessed she’d swapped them for contacts, which emphasized her deep blue eyes. She’d left her dark hair down, styling it in ’beachy waves,’ as my sister Frankie would have called it. It fell just below her shoulders and it suited her.
She picked up her wine and took her seat again just as Maisie brought dessert over, complete with another bottle of wine.
"I better not," Waverly said. "I won’t be able to drive ho."
"I can drop you ho if you drink too much," Hatch offered.
"What about my car?"
"My son Jamie can follow behind in your car," Maisie said. "He’ll be ho in an hour."
Fear flashed in Waverly’s eyes, and I felt the need to shut it down imdiately. "Or you don’t have to do any of that, Fizzy."
"Ah, right—"
"Hello!" Poppy’s voice called out as the alarm beeped.
"Pop Pop!" Tenley, Devon and Poppy’s toddler, squealed, and tiny little feet slapped on the hardwood as she ca running down the hall and rushing into Hatch’s arms.
"Hey, baby girl." Hatch kissed her neck, and she slapped his face.
"Pop Pop!"
"Let’s go find your mom," he said, and left us for a minute, returning with Devon, Poppy, and their other two kids, Niall and Holland.
"Well, this looks like a party," Poppy said, hugging her mom.
I noticed Devon, or ’Sparky,’ as we called him in the club, was not wearing his cut, and I wondered if Hatch had made him take it off because Waverly was here.
"Poppy, Devon, this is Waverly," I said.
"Hi." Waverly stood, shaking their hands. "It’s lovely to et you both."
"You, too," Poppy said.
"Are you hungry?" Maisie asked.
"I could eat," Devon said.
"We just had dinner," Poppy countered.
"It’s your mom’s pot roast, baby," Devon lobbed back.
"How did you know that?" Maisie asked.
Devon waggled his eyebrows. "I can sll it."
"You are so, so weird."
"You married ."
Poppy laughed. "This is true."
"I’ll make you a plate," Maisie said.
"No," Poppy countered. "I’ll do it, Mummy. Sit down and relax. Devon can do the dishes while I fix him a plate."
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