Page 53 of Worth the Fight

Mags’s “oh” is so soft. I can imagine just how she looks when saying it. Face puffy, tear-stained cheeks, with her puffy bottom lip popping open.

“I left the store and ran into Candi in the parking lot. I had heard around town that she had a crush on me, and even though it makes me sound like a fucking asshole, I didn’t feel a thing for her. But I thought, well, if you were moving on, then I was going to move on, too, so I asked her out.” I halt my steps, reaching to run a hand through my mess of hair. “We were only together for a few weeks, a month tops. All our dates involved a bar. I was always high, and we were both usually drunk. It fizzled faster than you could imagine. And I don’t tell you this to make you feel bad. So, please don’t. I’m not trying to turn this around and say that, well, you were dating, so it’s your fault I got her pregnant. That’s not it at all.” I purse out a heavy breath, mentally kicking myself. “I’m fucking all this up.”

“No, you’re not,” she whispers. “Keep going.”

“What I’m trying to explain is that while at the time, I didn’t feel like I was cheating on you, it also didn’t feel right. When I kissed her, I didn’t feel like I do with you. Kissing you, Mags…” I trail off. I love kissing Magnolia. That kiss at the airport was exactly what I remembered a kiss to feel like, what it should feel like. When I kissed Candi, it was more like a step, an act, something I had to tell myself to do and talk myself through. And that isn’t because Candi is an awful or unattractive person. I realize now that it was because it could never feel right with anyone besides Magnolia. “I get it, Mags. I get the feeling, even if I couldn't put a label on it at the time.”

“What about other girls?”

It’s my turn to be confused. “What other girls?”

“Has it only been Candi? All this time?”

I shrug a shoulder she can’t see. “Yeah, just Candi for those few weeks. Haven’t even so much as kissed another woman my whole life, besides you.”

She’s quiet now. Quiet for so long that I pull my phone away and tap the screen to make sure the call didn’t drop. “Mags?” I ask. And I press the phone harder to my ear, able to make out her crying on the other end. “Baby … baby, I didn’t mean to say all that to make you cry. I didn’t mean to make you feel anything except to let you know that I get it.”

“It’s okay,” she croaks, and I laugh a little.

“Doesn’t sound like it’s okay,” I tease.

“Does it make me a bad person that it kind of makes me happy you couldn't be with anyone else?”

“No,” I tell her sternly. “It killed me to think of you with another man.” Of someone that got to make love to her, then curl up around her, and hold her all night long. Someone that got to comb their fingers through her blonde hair as she talks about her day. She always gets really talkative late at night. Once she’s sleepy and lying in bed, she will close her eyes and chatter for hours.

“There wasn’t another man.”

“Your Nana said you were dating. You just talked about all the other times you tried to date.”

“What I mean is, I tried to date. I let my friends set me up and went on a dozen first dates, all that ended in disaster. I did date someone for a while, a few months, actually. But I … I couldn’t be with him.”

“What do you mean?”

She forces a little laugh. “This is so embarrassing. When we tried to be together, more than kissing, I couldn’t do it. Physically. The night we tried, as soon as clothes started to come off, uh … well, it didn’t go well. I had a full-blown panic attack, and afterward, I felt awful.”

I hate the feeling of her suffering like that. Imagining her having a panic attack, sobbing, holding her chest because she can’t breathe, that’s never how I’d want her to feel.

“That was the end of our relationship, but yeah, besides a kiss here and there, that’s it. That’s all I could ever do. No one’s ever had me, Lukas, not in the ways you have.”

It’s my turn to be selfishly happy, because fuck, I’ve lost count of the nights I tossed and turned, punching the pillow, thinking of her with anyone that wasn’t me. And I know she means sexually, intimately, but there’s a swell of hope in my chest that she means emotionally, too. Because no one has ever had me in that way besides her. And no one ever will.

“I can practically hear your smile over the phone, Lukas.”

It’s the first time since I picked up the phone that I don't hear the tears straining her voice. “Can’t blame a guy for having his wildest dream come true.”

She laughs at that, finally laughs, a real, giggling laugh. “You’re the worst.”

“Maybe,” I agree. I gather the courage to put myself out there one more time, knowing that I might be pressing my luck. “Maybe,” I say again, “but you should still let me come see you. Let’s do this, Mags.”

I hold my breath, willing my heart to beat silently as I wait for her response.

“I’d like that,” she says, and I choke on my saliva, thumping a fist to my chest.

“I’m going to need to hear that again, sweetheart. It’s been a long time since we’ve spent any real time together, and I gotta make sure I’m not dreaming.”

She giggles again, and I can hear the sheets rustle against the phone, which means she’s in bed, ready to give in to an afternoon nap. “You’re not dreaming, cowboy. I’d love to have you come visit me.”

“When? Name the day, and I’ll be there.”