Maybe Now
Page 13
I sigh. “I’ll be dead in a few years, Jake.”
He takes half a step back, but doesn’t take his eyes off me. “Wow.” He brings a hand to his mouth and runs it over his jaw. “You’re really using that one?”
“It’s not an excuse. It’s a fact.”
“A fact I’m very aware of,” he says. His jaw is hard, and now he’s mad. See? If he would have just left before I woke up, this would have ended perfectly! Now, when he leaves, we’re both going to be frustrated and full of regret.
I take a step forward. “I’m dying, Jake. Dying. What’s going to come of this? I don’t ever want to get married. I don’t want children. I have no desire for another relationship where I’ll eventually become someone’s burden. Yes, I like you. Yes, last night was incredible. And that’s exactly why you should have left already. Because I have things I want to do, and falling in love and fighting with someone about how I live the last few years of my life is not something that’s ever been on my bucket list. So, thank you for last night. And thank you for attempting to cook me breakfast. But I need you to leave.”
I blow out a frustrated breath and then immediately look at the floor because I hate the look in his eyes right now. Several seconds pass and he doesn’t respond. He stands there and soaks in everything I said. He eventually takes a step back, and then another. I look up and he looks away, turning toward the front door. He opens it and steps outside, but before he closes it, he looks straight at me.
“For the record, Maggie. I was just making you breakfast. I wasn’t proposing.”
He shuts the door, and my house has never felt emptier than it does in this moment.
I hate this. I hate everything I just said to him. I hate how much I wish it wasn’t the truth.
I hate this stupid fucking illness.
And I hate that I said all that and made him leave before he could even finish cooking the damn bacon. I stare at the pan and then walk over to it and throw the entire pan in the trash.
I lean against the bar and can’t help but pout. Is Jake ending a relationship twelve years too late better or worse than me ending a relationship completely and entirely too early? He’s someone I could love. If I had the life to love him in.
I bring my hands up to the back of my head and press my elbows together, bending over. I try to stop myself from being so disappointed. But the fact that I’m disappointed over a guy I met twenty-four hours ago disappoints me even more. I take a few minutes to recover, then force myself upright.
I grab the box of waffles I had intended to have for breakfast from the freezer. Only now, I’m not nearly as excited to eat them.
Sydney swings open my bedroom door. I’m sitting at my desk, finishing up a website for a client, when she goes straight to my bed and falls face-first onto the mattress.
Rough day, I guess.
It’s probably my fault because I stayed another night at her house last night. Maybe I should give her a night to catch up on her sleep. Outside of her job, we’ve been together almost non-stop since Tuesday. I know it’s only Friday, but we get exhausted being together. In the best way.
I’ll make sure tonight is a little more relaxing than the last few nights. We can take the chill out of Netflix and chill and literally just watch TV shows all night. Then I’ll let her sleep in as long as she wants tomorrow. Hell, I’ll probably sleep in with her.
I walk over to the bed and lie down beside her. I brush her hair out of her face, and she opens her eyes and grins at me, despite looking exhausted.
“Bad day?” I ask her.
She shakes her head and rolls over onto her back. She lifts her hands to sign, but whatever she wants to say, she doesn’t know how to sign. “Midterms,” she finally says.
I tilt my head. “Midterms?”
She nods.
“You had midterms this week?”
She nods again.
Now I feel like an asshole. I grab my phone and text her.
Ridge: Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have stayed at your apartment.
Sydney: Mine were Monday and Tuesday, so no worries. Your timing Tuesday night was impeccable. It’s just that I work at the library and it’s insane during midterms. The students are insane. The professors are insane. I’m so happy it’s Friday.
Ridge: Me too. Let’s do nothing tonight but watch TV. I need to find out if Ned really gets decapitated.
Sydney: Who?
Shit. Warren is rubbing off on me. I don’t want her to know I just spoiled season one of Game Of Thrones.
Ridge: Oh, nothing. Talking about The Walking Dead.
Sydney stares at her phone for a second, confused.
Sydney: I don’t remember that from The Walking Dead.
She watches The Walking Dead. Great. Now I want to have sex and I already told her we’d be lazy tonight.
Sydney’s attention moves away from me and toward my bedroom door. “Someone is knocking,” she signs.
I climb off her and head to the living room. Through the peephole, I notice it’s a girl with a FedEx uniform on. I open the door, and she hands me a package. Once I’ve signed for it, I walk the package to the bar and wait for Sydney as she walks into the kitchen. I read the label and it’s addressed to me, but there’s no return address.
Sydney leans over me and then signs, “You got a present?”
I shrug. I’m not expecting anything that I can remember, but I open the package and there’s another package inside of it. A poster tube. Knowing Warren, he probably sent me a roll of toilet paper with his face all over it. I start to pull the tape off, but I notice Sydney walk around me, toward the living room. When I glance up at her, she’s holding her phone up, aiming her camera in my direction.
“Are you recording me?”
She nods and gives me a sweet smile. “The present is from me.”
“You bought me something?”
Her shy smile is so fucking adorable. Every time I think I’m too exhausted to even think about picking her up and throwing her on my bed, she does something that completely reinvigorates me and makes me feel like I could run a marathon.
I look back down at the tube and feel bad that she got me a gift. I suck at gifts. Shit, what if she’s the type who gives the best gifts? I’m the guy who once bought his nine-year-old brother a hamster for Christmas, but didn’t realize it died in the box. Brennan opened it and cried the entire day.
And this beautiful girl has me as her boyfriend.
Although, this gift is hard as shit to open. I set it on the bar and yank at the lid.
A sudden cloud of dust bursts out of the container and hits me in the face. It happens so fast, I can’t even close my mouth in time. I step back from whatever the hell was in that container and I start spitting. What the hell just happened?
I walk to the sink and run my hands under the water, then wet my face. When I pull my hands back, they’re sparkling like a fucking unicorn.
Glitter. Everywhere.
On my arms, my shirt, my hands, the counter. In my mouth. I look over at Sydney and she’s on the floor with laughter. Tears are in her eyes, she’s laughing so hard.
She glitter bombed me.
Wow.
I guess that means the prank war has recommenced.
I wash my mouth out and then calmly walk to the bar where the explosion just happened. I scoop a handful of glitter into my palm. Two can play this game. Her laughter hasn’t let up at all. I think she’s laughing even harder now that she sees me up close. I’m sure I look fantastic in sparkles.
I’ve read the word “squeal” before and know that it’s a form of laughter, but I have no idea what it sounds like at all. But as soon as I tip my hand over and watch the glitter fall all over her, I’m almost positive that’s what she’s doing. Squealing.
She clutches her stomach and falls onto her back. A tear falls down her cheek.
My God. I’d give anything to be able to hear her right now. I spend so much time trying to imagine what her voice and her laughter and her sighs sound like, but there isn’t enough imagination in one person to come close to what I know it probably sounds like.
She sees the look on my face and suddenly stops laughing. Her eyebrows pull together when she signs, “Are you angry?”
He takes half a step back, but doesn’t take his eyes off me. “Wow.” He brings a hand to his mouth and runs it over his jaw. “You’re really using that one?”
“It’s not an excuse. It’s a fact.”
“A fact I’m very aware of,” he says. His jaw is hard, and now he’s mad. See? If he would have just left before I woke up, this would have ended perfectly! Now, when he leaves, we’re both going to be frustrated and full of regret.
I take a step forward. “I’m dying, Jake. Dying. What’s going to come of this? I don’t ever want to get married. I don’t want children. I have no desire for another relationship where I’ll eventually become someone’s burden. Yes, I like you. Yes, last night was incredible. And that’s exactly why you should have left already. Because I have things I want to do, and falling in love and fighting with someone about how I live the last few years of my life is not something that’s ever been on my bucket list. So, thank you for last night. And thank you for attempting to cook me breakfast. But I need you to leave.”
I blow out a frustrated breath and then immediately look at the floor because I hate the look in his eyes right now. Several seconds pass and he doesn’t respond. He stands there and soaks in everything I said. He eventually takes a step back, and then another. I look up and he looks away, turning toward the front door. He opens it and steps outside, but before he closes it, he looks straight at me.
“For the record, Maggie. I was just making you breakfast. I wasn’t proposing.”
He shuts the door, and my house has never felt emptier than it does in this moment.
I hate this. I hate everything I just said to him. I hate how much I wish it wasn’t the truth.
I hate this stupid fucking illness.
And I hate that I said all that and made him leave before he could even finish cooking the damn bacon. I stare at the pan and then walk over to it and throw the entire pan in the trash.
I lean against the bar and can’t help but pout. Is Jake ending a relationship twelve years too late better or worse than me ending a relationship completely and entirely too early? He’s someone I could love. If I had the life to love him in.
I bring my hands up to the back of my head and press my elbows together, bending over. I try to stop myself from being so disappointed. But the fact that I’m disappointed over a guy I met twenty-four hours ago disappoints me even more. I take a few minutes to recover, then force myself upright.
I grab the box of waffles I had intended to have for breakfast from the freezer. Only now, I’m not nearly as excited to eat them.
Sydney swings open my bedroom door. I’m sitting at my desk, finishing up a website for a client, when she goes straight to my bed and falls face-first onto the mattress.
Rough day, I guess.
It’s probably my fault because I stayed another night at her house last night. Maybe I should give her a night to catch up on her sleep. Outside of her job, we’ve been together almost non-stop since Tuesday. I know it’s only Friday, but we get exhausted being together. In the best way.
I’ll make sure tonight is a little more relaxing than the last few nights. We can take the chill out of Netflix and chill and literally just watch TV shows all night. Then I’ll let her sleep in as long as she wants tomorrow. Hell, I’ll probably sleep in with her.
I walk over to the bed and lie down beside her. I brush her hair out of her face, and she opens her eyes and grins at me, despite looking exhausted.
“Bad day?” I ask her.
She shakes her head and rolls over onto her back. She lifts her hands to sign, but whatever she wants to say, she doesn’t know how to sign. “Midterms,” she finally says.
I tilt my head. “Midterms?”
She nods.
“You had midterms this week?”
She nods again.
Now I feel like an asshole. I grab my phone and text her.
Ridge: Why didn’t you tell me? I wouldn’t have stayed at your apartment.
Sydney: Mine were Monday and Tuesday, so no worries. Your timing Tuesday night was impeccable. It’s just that I work at the library and it’s insane during midterms. The students are insane. The professors are insane. I’m so happy it’s Friday.
Ridge: Me too. Let’s do nothing tonight but watch TV. I need to find out if Ned really gets decapitated.
Sydney: Who?
Shit. Warren is rubbing off on me. I don’t want her to know I just spoiled season one of Game Of Thrones.
Ridge: Oh, nothing. Talking about The Walking Dead.
Sydney stares at her phone for a second, confused.
Sydney: I don’t remember that from The Walking Dead.
She watches The Walking Dead. Great. Now I want to have sex and I already told her we’d be lazy tonight.
Sydney’s attention moves away from me and toward my bedroom door. “Someone is knocking,” she signs.
I climb off her and head to the living room. Through the peephole, I notice it’s a girl with a FedEx uniform on. I open the door, and she hands me a package. Once I’ve signed for it, I walk the package to the bar and wait for Sydney as she walks into the kitchen. I read the label and it’s addressed to me, but there’s no return address.
Sydney leans over me and then signs, “You got a present?”
I shrug. I’m not expecting anything that I can remember, but I open the package and there’s another package inside of it. A poster tube. Knowing Warren, he probably sent me a roll of toilet paper with his face all over it. I start to pull the tape off, but I notice Sydney walk around me, toward the living room. When I glance up at her, she’s holding her phone up, aiming her camera in my direction.
“Are you recording me?”
She nods and gives me a sweet smile. “The present is from me.”
“You bought me something?”
Her shy smile is so fucking adorable. Every time I think I’m too exhausted to even think about picking her up and throwing her on my bed, she does something that completely reinvigorates me and makes me feel like I could run a marathon.
I look back down at the tube and feel bad that she got me a gift. I suck at gifts. Shit, what if she’s the type who gives the best gifts? I’m the guy who once bought his nine-year-old brother a hamster for Christmas, but didn’t realize it died in the box. Brennan opened it and cried the entire day.
And this beautiful girl has me as her boyfriend.
Although, this gift is hard as shit to open. I set it on the bar and yank at the lid.
A sudden cloud of dust bursts out of the container and hits me in the face. It happens so fast, I can’t even close my mouth in time. I step back from whatever the hell was in that container and I start spitting. What the hell just happened?
I walk to the sink and run my hands under the water, then wet my face. When I pull my hands back, they’re sparkling like a fucking unicorn.
Glitter. Everywhere.
On my arms, my shirt, my hands, the counter. In my mouth. I look over at Sydney and she’s on the floor with laughter. Tears are in her eyes, she’s laughing so hard.
She glitter bombed me.
Wow.
I guess that means the prank war has recommenced.
I wash my mouth out and then calmly walk to the bar where the explosion just happened. I scoop a handful of glitter into my palm. Two can play this game. Her laughter hasn’t let up at all. I think she’s laughing even harder now that she sees me up close. I’m sure I look fantastic in sparkles.
I’ve read the word “squeal” before and know that it’s a form of laughter, but I have no idea what it sounds like at all. But as soon as I tip my hand over and watch the glitter fall all over her, I’m almost positive that’s what she’s doing. Squealing.
She clutches her stomach and falls onto her back. A tear falls down her cheek.
My God. I’d give anything to be able to hear her right now. I spend so much time trying to imagine what her voice and her laughter and her sighs sound like, but there isn’t enough imagination in one person to come close to what I know it probably sounds like.
She sees the look on my face and suddenly stops laughing. Her eyebrows pull together when she signs, “Are you angry?”
