Maeve's smile twists and she wrinkles her nose, glaring up at him playfully. "So why did it take you so long, arsehole?"

As if it hasn't taken her equally as long.

Still, the way he says it, the knowledge that he's felt this way for longer than she may have thought, it all warms through her. Floods her chest, her stomach, makes her feel like she's almost weightless. Maeve isn't a romantic, not really, but she still wants to be loved and knowing she is, it feels wonderful.