Page 4 of Forever, Maybe

The idea didn’t seem to warrant further discussion, but Daniel knew Joe would get to what he really wanted to say in his own time.

They walked in companionable silence, taking the scenic route to the Hyndland shop.

Leaving Blythswood Square, they meandered down Douglas Street and turned left onto Sauchiehall Street, the buzz of the city weaving around them.

Did Daniel love Joe more than his own brothers?

Probably. As the eldest sibling, Daniel had always felt a gulf between himself and the younger two.

When he’d started the business at eighteen, Luke and Mark were still kids—twelve and ten—wrapped up in junior football, video games, school, and their mates. Their worlds had barely overlapped.

Joe, though, was different. He’d been there through all of Daniel’s highs and lows, a steady witness to the chaos of building Stuffed!

from nothing. Like Daniel, Joe had grown up in one of Glasgow’s rougher areas, the son of a single, alcoholic mother.

Escape had been his driving force, too, the grim alternatives—tower block flats, dead-end jobs or a weekly giro—never far from his mind.

That shared history had forged an unspoken bond between them.

Yet, despite his hard start, Joe carried a natural optimism and a wealth of common sense that had become invaluable. He wasn’t just a colleague or a mate; he was family in a way Daniel’s own siblings, for all their shared blood, had never quite managed to be.

Joe cleared his throat as they walked past the art deco dental hospital, Daniel marvelling as always at the massive number of eateries on that stretch of road.

“Okay… here’s my other bit o’ news. Nicky’s pregnant again. She’s due at the start of September.”

“Fucking hell!” Daniel blurted out. “Number five! Are you and her trying to create your own football team?”

Joe stopped walking, turning just enough to meet Daniel’s eyes, a challenge in his expression. “She loves weans. So do I, actually.”

Daniel held up his hands in surrender. “Aye, fair enough. Sorry! Congratulations. That’s brilliant news.” He reached out, his hand resting lightly on Joe’s shoulder. “D’you want a manly hug?”

Joe shrugged the hand off, his mouth quirking into a wry smile. “No, ta. A handshake’ll do.”

Daniel obliged, clasping Joe’s hand firmly. He wouldn’t have minded the hug—mostly for his own sake. The news stirred something uncomfortable inside him, a pang he couldn’t quite name.

“Is Nicky alright?” he asked, clearing his throat.

Joe’s partner was only a couple of years younger than Nell, and their youngest hadn’t even turned two yet.

The rest of the brood—six, nine and twelve—kept the house in a state of perpetual chaos.

Whenever Daniel and Nell visited, they were greeted by a wall of noise: shouting, crying and the occasional crash of something hitting the floor.

As soon as they left, Nell would shake her head and mutter, “How the hell does she cope with it?”

Every single time.

“Aye. Tired, but she’s just comin’ out of her first trimester so she should start feelin’ a bit better soon.” That fluency in the lingo of pregnancy marked out Joe and Daniel’s poles apart worlds, the idea of Nell stroking a swollen abdomen absolutely and utterly alien.

They resumed their walk.

“How much time do you want off?” Daniel asked. His first, unworthy thought was relief that Nicky was due in September. Safely outside festival season.

“Aye, well… here’s the thing.” Joe hesitated, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “This time, Nicky wants a wee bit more help. Cannae blame her, not wi’ all our kids.”

“Fair enough,” Daniel replied, fingers crossed in his own pocket. By now, they’d reached the Charing Cross traffic lights. Below them, cars, vans, lorries and motorbikes roared along the motorway slicing through Glasgow’s city centre.

“We were thinking… mebbe six months off,” Joe added.

Daniel’s step faltered, but the red light gave him a temporary reprieve. They crossed the streets that led to Woodlands Road in silence, the hum of engines momentarily subdued as traffic came to a halt. On the other side, Joe picked up where he’d left off.

“Ah’ve got a bit of money saved up. And there’s Nicky’s inheritance.”

Daniel nodded. Nicky’s mum had died last year, leaving her only child the car, her savings, jewellery and the former council house she’d bought in the ’90s. Thanks to Glasgow’s property boom in the early noughties, it was now worth a small fortune.

“Six months is an awfy long time,” Daniel said carefully, glancing sideways at Joe. “Especially wi’ Christmas smack bang in the middle.”

Joe stopped abruptly, turning to face him.

His expression was sharp, almost accusatory.

“C’mon, pal. When the first three were born, I only took a few days off.

And you ken fine I’ve missed more holidays than I care tae count.

Nell’s no’ the only yin who bitches about being married to a workaholic.

Liza could take over my job while I’m off. ”

“But she wouldn’t—” Daniel forced a smile, reluctant to spark an argument. “Ach, why not?”

They walked on in silence, but Daniel couldn’t shake the growing knot of trepidation pounding against his skull. Six months without Joe. Even with Liza stepping in, the thought made his pulse quicken, and not in a positive way.

But what could he possibly say? Joe had worked his socks off for Stuffed! . It was fair enough. He did love children, and he seemed to revel in the chaos of his and Nicky’s household.

Christ, I’m jealous…

Whoa. The emotion intensified the more he prodded it. The image of a tiny, red-faced baby squirming in his arms loomed before him, and his eyes prickled with unexpected tears.

They carried on along Woodlands Road, passing the Sainsbury’s garage on one side and the steep turn leading up to Park Gardens.

There, grand Victorian townhouses perched above Kelvingrove Park, their elegant facades surveying the greenery below.

Just two months ago, one of the flats had changed hands for a staggering ￡800,000—a reminder of the neighbourhood’s quiet exclusivity.

By the time he and Joe reached the Hyndland shop on Clarence Street, he’d pulled himself together. A red-and-black tarpaulin stretched across the window, while a blackboard outside made its case to passing customers: Life’s too short for boring sandwiches. Come in and grab a great one.

Inside, he conducted a quick inventory. As usual, the shop was clean and inviting. Signs on the walls advertised weekly deals and offers, and a handful of customers browsed the shelves.

The air was rich with the aromas of olives, pickled peppers, a whole Brie, fresh salads, Stuffed!

's own recipe hummus and an array of sliced meats.

Anyone entering the shop with even a hint of hunger would find their appetite sharpened, their senses tantalised by the visual and olfactory feast laid out before them.

Liza, the shop’s manager, emerged in her wheelchair from behind the counter.

Her face lit up as she grinned at the two of them.

She was what you got if you typed ‘Glaswegian lassie’ into a computer and asked it to generate something.

Thick, curly red hair and blue-green eyes matched an accent that most visitors to the city struggled with and a right hook that made any guy she dated envious.

“Alright, gaffer? Joe? Can I get youse summat tae eat?”

Daniel shook his head, but Joe nodded enthusiastically, rattling off an order for a wrap smeared with jalapeno hummus and stuffed with pickled carrots and roast chicken.

Liza, well used to Joe’s perpetual hunger and eccentric food choices, merely raised an eyebrow before assembling the wrap. She handed it over without a word, watching as Joe tore into it like a man starved.

Daniel waited until Joe was halfway through chewing. “Joe and I have some news for you,” he said, keeping his tone casual. “A couple of things, actually. We’re thinking about taking the business in a new direction… and Joe here’s planning a wee sabbatical.”

Liza’s eyebrows shot up, her mouth falling open in exaggerated disbelief. Joe was practically a fixture of Stuffed! , known and loved by every staff member. Unlike Daniel, he didn’t have a short fuse, and his approachable nature had made him a favourite among the team.

“What do you think about a wee step up for a few months?” Daniel asked.

Liza’s shock evaporated instantly, replaced by a broad grin. “Absolutely, gaffer! Tell me everything!”

He laid out the plan. Joe took his six months off, and Liza did his job. It would mean working in the city centre office, which had a lift and was therefore accessible, and a lot of tedious managerial work, but it would also mean a pay rise.

The old-fashioned bell above the door rang as a teenage boy entered the shop.

Dressed in jeans that hung so low on his hips the top of his boxer shorts were visible and a faded blue sweatshirt, he shuffled to and fro.

His attention seemed focused on Daniel rather than the tempting arrays around him.

“Can I help you?” Daniel asked, the instinctive patter of his shop days kicking in. “We’ve got a meal deal. A wrap, a can o’ ginger and a packet of crisps for three quid.”

The boy shook his head, but Daniel took a moment to study him.

The widow’s peak in his dark hair, sharp cheekbones and slightly too-close-together eyes gave him a striking, almost fox-like appearance.

His teeth, large and blindingly white, hinted at more than a few trips to the orthodontist. Something about them tugged at a memory…

but whatever it was faded as quickly as it came.

“Are you… are you Daniel Murray?” the boy blurted out, his voice breaking the momentary silence.

“Aye. Who’s asking?”

“Naebody!”

And with that, he was gone, dashing out of the shop so fast that the door slammed behind him, rattling the tins on the shelves nearby.

Liza and Joe stared after him. “What was that about?” Joe asked, not letting the brief diversion distract him from finishing off his wrap.

Daniel shrugged. “No idea. Maybe he wants a job in one o’ the shops but bottled it before he could ask?”

Joe wrinkled his nose. “Or mebbe he’s one o’ the Kelly boys, and the next time you see him, he’ll be back with three big brothers and a baseball bat, demanding you hand ower protection money, or he’ll torch the shop.”

“Don’t,” Daniel muttered, shuddering despite himself. The Kelly family were long gone, their empire dismantled. Those who weren’t dead were serving lengthy sentences in Barlinnie. Not that the Kellys would have dared touch Stuffed! back in the day anyway—not with Shane O’Malley’s money behind it.

Liza, too, had shivered at the mention of the Kellys, doubtless recalling their entanglement with the stepfather she no longer spoke to.

By the time they left the shop, it was nearing three o’clock. Remembering Joe’s comment about Nicky accusing him of being a workaholic, Daniel clapped him on the shoulder. “Take the rest of the day off, mate. Go home.”

Joe hesitated, then nodded, a flicker of gratitude passing across his face before he headed off. Daniel made his way back to the office, Joe’s news weighing heavily on his mind. Six months. Half a year without Joe.

Liza was competent, no question, but she lacked the instinctive understanding Joe had cultivated during more than two decades working alongside him. Every deal, every challenge, every mad rush—they’d faced them together.

The thought of stepping into the gap himself, shouldering even more responsibility, made Daniel’s stomach sink. He’d end up working longer hours than ever.

And Nell wasn’t going to like that. Not one teeny-tiny bit.