“Disappeared like he got lost on the way home or?—?”
“I thought I could trust him. The purchase was in his name because I hadn’t established my credit. He was exposed as not being a single guy and his channel was demonetized. And he lost all his money in a bad bitcoin deal. He took my funds and the van to pay back his debtors. It was such a stupid mistake.”
“What are you saying, My Magic Maggie?”
I hang my head. “He sold the van. Ran off to Mexico with some girl. Talk about pathetic.”
“I hope you mean he’s pathetic and not you.”
My shoulder lifts because it sure feels that way. My inner troll gets loud, giving supporting evidence as to why I don’t deserve cupcake success or love. “I was so gullible. Should’ve taken precautions. Been business savvy.” There is a little more to the story that I decide to keep to myself—it turns out Sylvester was using me for my connection to my rich and famous parents, but when it became clear that I no longer had much of a relationship with them, he cut ties.
“You were trusting. Nothing wrong with that.”
“In reality, I invested myself in a guy instead of my future.”
“But when you find the right one...” The corner of Declan’s lip lifts and he absentmindedly links his pinky with mine.
At those words, the bluebirds in my belly devour a vat of cupcake frosting and then take flight. I try to get them to calm down, but the way Declan is looking at me with intensity and tenderness sends those birds on a sugar high.
“Did you press charges?”
“I tried but didn’t have a case. His credit was slightly better, so the loan was in his name, but it was my money we spent for the down payment.”
And I didn’t want to bring attention to myself or see a headline that read something likeFormer Child Star Honey Holiday Gets a Sour Deal.I’ve managed to mostly erase my image from the record of popular culture and want to keep it that way.
“You shouldn’t give up on your dreams,” he says.
“It’s not worth it.”
“It’s always worth it. You’re worth it, Maggie,” he says and then kisses the top of my head before padding up the stairs. “Let me know if you need anything. Goodnight.”
Stunned, I remain on the couch in front of the fire. Only, it’s like Cinderella’s bluebirds lift me into clouds of fluffy buttercream. I’m buzzing from head—where Declan had kissed me—to toe.
28
DECLAN
Downstairs, I wanted to smother Maggie with kisses, show her how special she is, and bring her dreams to life. But she’s resistant, clouded by something that I can’t put my finger on. Like one of the onions in the stew I made, there are layers of her past that she’s keeping to herself that I fear might make her cry, so I don’t want to press. But she’s more like a flower I want to see bloom than an onion.
My mind churns all night, starting with the visit to see Aunt Maureen. She taught me to celebrate the passing from life to death—so long as the person had lived long and well.
My thoughts jump to dinner with Maggie. I already burned one person I loved and was subsequently kicked out of all kitchens, leaving Siobhan disgraced and me depressed. I hardly trust myself in the kitchen and definitely not with love.
The very fact that I broke the ban on me in kitchens is nothing short of a miracle. Aunt Maureen tried to ease me in front of the stove and made sure I left her care knowing how to make stew, even if only verbally. I never tied on an apron and tried it on my own. Truth is, I’d do anything for Maggie, even face my deepest inner fears.
Aunt Maureen and Jesus put me back together. But I still carry shame, guilt, and can’t imagine forgiving myself. It’s no surprise that Keefe hadn’t been able to do so either.
That leads me to think about my oldest friend—if I could call him that. Maggie is a true friend. Despite not telling me the entirety of the voicemail, she’s proved that many times over.
As for Keefe, I suppose his troubled soul is finally at peace.
Can I ever find peace and forgiveness? I doubt it, and Maggie can never know what happened. I don’t want her to glimpse that part of my past.
This brings me back to Maggie—I’m always returning to her, whether anticipating a text after a game, a photo on a random Tuesday afternoon, or reminiscing.
It’s wild that we’re back in each other’s lives. I feel strongly for her in a way that I didn’t when we were in high school and that I haven’t since Siobhan. It’s been years since the beating thing in my chest felt alive other than during a football game—and that is only because I’m running so hard.
Siobhan was my first love, at least that’s what I thought at the time. But we were young, foolish, and I didn’t fully understand what it means to want what’s best for someone else. Back then, it was all about me.
