“Fine, how about two glasses?” I sigh, looking up and catching sight of the news. The photo of my intimate hug with Maggie is on full display, the commentators no doubt speculating about our relationship. “Shit,” I say, my fingers curling around the edge of the bar.
The bartender looks between me and the TV, his eyes rounding in recognition. “You’re Rowan Amory?”
“Unfortunately,” I grumble, my mood plummeting.
“Here, this is the best I can do,” he says, taking pity on me and handing me two very generous glasses of whiskey.
“Thanks,” I say, making my way to the elevator. I’m thankful there’s no one else here with me as I ride up to Maggie’s floor.
Balancing the two glasses in one hand, I grab the room key out of my pocket with the other and swipe the door open.
The sound of the TV is the first thing I hear. Snippets of“secretly dating”and“David Taylor’s daughter turns heads once more”. Maggie is sitting against the headboard, her knees drawn up to her chest, her chin resting on her forearm that slung over her knees..
I sigh and hand her one of the glasses which she reluctantly takes. Then I find the remote and turn off the TV. Maggie winces after taking a sip of the whiskey and looks over at her laptop which is sitting by her feet.
Swallowing, I reach over and pull it towards me. It’s a news article with photos of us from the last decade and a speculated timeline of our relationship. I scoff and say, “Don’t people have anything better to do?”
“Of course not, we exist for their entertainment,” Maggie says, voice raw. She takes another sip of whiskey and puts her head back down between her knees. I take the dangling glass from her fingers and set both drinks on the nightstand.
“Mags, talk to me. What is this really about?”
Her cold blue eyes lock on mine and I reel back from the force of her stare.
“What is it really about?” she says, anger rolling off her in waves. “How about the fact that all I wanted was a straightforward agreement, and instead we’ve managed to break every single rule?”
I inhale a frustrated breath and pinch the bridge of my nose. “That’s not fair, and it’s not what this is about, anyway. You’re deflecting.”
“Oh, yeah? Enlighten me then,” she says, moving off the bed and pacing around.
I remain seated at the edge of the bed, crossing my arms. “Today has been a lot, and I don’t want to fight with you,” I say, grinding my teeth so I don’t say something else I might regret.
“And that’s the problem, isn’t it?” she says, throwing her arms out. “You want an honest relationship with me and yet we never fight. That’s not normal, Rowan.”
“Is that really what you want right now? To pick a fight with me?” I ask, standing up.
“Yes, I do,” she says, chest heaving.
“Fine. I think you’re making this into a bigger deal than it actually is. I think you’re too scared to admit what you really want, so you hide behind the pretenses of the agreement and you think the media will make or break us, as if anyone has any right to weigh in on our lives. Who cares what others think? You and me—we’re the only ones that matter,” I say, taking a step closer, trying to get her to understand. Maggie steps out of my reach once again and I ball my fists in frustration.
“I care what others think, okay?” she says, voice breaking. “Because I’ve seen it all happen before. I’ve been in the spotlight my whole life and I saw how it destroyed my parents’ marriage. Gossip and rumors of cheating, and everyone weighing in on our family and my parents’ relationship. Everyone scrutinized me and the way I looked, the way I acted, who I was seen with. I’ve been in these shoes before, and I fucking hate them!” she yells.
I take a deep breath. I’ve known about her parents’ divorce since college and I’ve always guessed that their toxic relationship was the reason she never wanted one to begin with. But does she really think that’s what would happen to us? “You’renot your parents, Mags. This is different,” I say. “We’re different.” I want her to believe me but I can see she doesn’t.
“This was a mistake,” she whispers, blinking back tears and staring at the ceiling.
“What was a mistake?” I ask, heart in my throat.
“This stupid agreement. I should have never asked you for it,” she says, eyes full of tears.
“You don’t mean that,” I say, shoulders slumping.
She’s quiet for too long and my heart sinks.
“I was going to end it. On our trip to the Bahamas. I was going to end the agreement,” she cries, biting her bottom lip to stop it from wobbling.
All I can do is stare at her, shocked. After everything we’ve been through, a whole decade of push and pull, of being in love with her.
She was going to end it.
