Jesus, I’m a conflicted mess.
I’m about to slide my socks on when there’s a gasp from the guest chair. She’s grimacing, looking down at her feet, one of those fuck-me shoes dangling from her fingers.
“What’s wrong?” I don’t mean for it to sound so impatient, but I’m so fucking torqued by this morning after. And this hangover is thumping pain through my head.
I round the end of the bed and note the huge red blisters that line her feet.
“Guess I should’ve known better. I never wear heels,” she says, inspecting the row of raised skin.
“Shit. That looks painful.”
“Yeah, well, blisters happen. Guess my feet swelled.” She tries to slide the strappy number on.
“Stop. You put those on, and those blisters are gonna rip open. Here.” I toss her my socks. “At least wear these till we get to the car.” I’ll fucking carry her if I have to.
Wearing my socks and coat to cover her busted dress, Maggie looks into the full-length mirror just before we leave and shakes her head. “God, I hope no one sees us sneaking out of here.”
Those blisters and the regret she obviously has over the whole event are enough to have me hustling her out the door. “We’ll hit a side door.” I don’t like that she’s embarrassed, but I’m still going to do my best to take care of her.
The lobby is half full, but I don’t recognize anyone as we hurry to the side exit. Regardless, Maggie hides behind her hair. I want to take her hand or pick her up and carry her. But maybe she’s right, and it’s better to just run head down in the ultimate walk of shame.
Despite her grumblings that she’ll call an Uber, we make it to my Jeep, and I stand guard while she climbs in. The few short blocks’ drive is spent in silence, the tension so thick I roll the window down just to be able to breathe.
When we reach her place, she’s out and at her front door before I can think of my next move. And then she’s sliding inside, closing the door. Running away and shutting me out in one fell swoop.
That’s my normal MO, not hers.
For the first time in my life, I don’t know what my next move is. I only know that now everything has changed.
Chapter Six
Maggie
Idon’t know what I expected from the whole “we possibly…probably–okay, definitely had sex” problem with Jackson. But I should’ve known he’d gloss over it and move on like nothing happened.
Heck, I even asked him to.
But as I finish storing the remains of the day’s baked goods and prepping them for delivery to the local food bank, at least the despondency over losing a best friend finally morphs to anger.
It’s been a week of me trying hard and failing not to fixate on that look of sheer horror that crossed his face when he finally came awake enough and realized who his bedmate was. That momentary flash might as well have been a knife to my heart.
I’ve never felt so rejected in all my life. Even though he was extra sweet while holding me in his lap. Were he not my best friend’s brother, maybe the intimacy of him trying to help me dress would’ve ended in some other way.
I’d never want to risk losing my friendship with Alice, though, and that part of what I told him was true. But he didn’t have to act like he was mortified at the possibility that we’d hooked up. Even though I am. Sort of.
He’s my friend. Or was, anyway.
And even though he said nothing would change between us, it’s been a week and not one nocturnal text message from him. No early-morning memes or TikToks shared.
It hurts to admit how much I miss him. And the number of times I’ve caught myself from being the first one to reach out is ridiculous. I’m afraid I’d appear needy. Or clingy.
Even my Saturday ’90s pop dance mix isn’t doing the job of pulling me from the doldrums, especially since my feet are still tender and actual dancing isn’t really an option.
What I need is to be around my people. Except without Jackson and Alice, I don’t really have a whole lot of people. I catch sight of Jules out in front of her shop, tending to her planters, and flip my door sign to closed. Maybe Charlie is nearby, and I can get little-girl snuggles, or if nothing else, help Jules with her planting.
“Hey, girl,” I call, infusing my tone with an exuberance I don’t feel. Her head pops up, and she greets me with a smile.
“Hey yourself.”
