Maeve

It couldn’t be.

Aaron bobbed his head at me, his curls falling over his face. “Maeve,” he said, his voice serious, nothing like the man I had met hours earlier. “You’re looking… well.”

I could see the smile hiding in the corner of his mouth. I glared, which surprised him, one of his dark brows arching.

Ernest was standing between us, looking from one to other expectantly, a wide, almost deranged smile plastered on his ...