Chapter 17 #2
Maggie shook her head, the laugh that tried to escape breaking halfway into a sob. “No — it’s not you — it’s just—” Her breath caught, hitching hard. She dragged her free hand over her face, smearing tears and spa mask alike. “God, I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I’m crying.”
But she did know. She knew exactly why.
Because she hadn’t tried therapy. Because she hadn’t done anything except run away. Because she was so tired of pretending, she was fine when everything under her skin still hurt.
Danica leaned closer, voice soft, steady. “You don’t have to be sorry.”
Kiera gave her hand another squeeze. “You don’t have to hold it together all the time, Maggie.”
Maggie closed her eyes, more tears slipping free, her breath shaking. For once, she didn’t bother to wipe them away.
Maggie swiped at her face with the edge of the towel, but more tears just kept coming, hot and humiliating. “God,” she choked out, half a laugh, half a sob. “This isn’t… this isn’t supposed to happen. We’re on a spa day. A bachelorette trip. We literally just said this was a no-crying zone.”
Danica’s eyes softened, but she didn’t push. “Maggie…”
“I mean it,” Maggie barreled on, her voice cracking as she tried to wrestle it back under control. “This is supposed to be facials and cucumber water and stupid gossip about Pete. Not me…” She waved her hand at her wet face, the streaks running through her mask. “Not me being the downer.”
Kiera shook her head, gentle but firm, still holding Maggie’s hand tight. “You’re not a downer. You’re our friend. And if you need to cry, then that’s part of this too.”
Maggie’s chest squeezed so hard she thought she might crack open. She wanted to believe her, but guilt sat like a stone in her throat — guilt for ruining the lightness, guilt for crying when she was supposed to be celebrating, guilt for feeling too much, always too much.
She laughed again, broken and wet. “I’m a cucumber mask disaster.”
Danica reached for her other hand, her grip warm and steady. “You’re not a disaster. You’re human.”
Maggie shut her eyes tight, trying to breathe, trying to stuff the tears back where they belonged. But they kept slipping free, traitorous and hot, as her friends held her hands like it was the most normal thing in the world.
And for one terrifying, relieving moment, Maggie let herself feel all of it — the grief, the guilt, the impossible relief of not being alone in it, even if her friends didn’t know all of it just yet.
Maggie sniffed hard, dragging the towel under her eyes, smearing her mask. “Okay,” she said, voice still wrecked but trying for light. “This is officially too much vulnerability for one spa day.”
Kiera squeezed her hand again, steady. Danica gave her a look that was equal parts concern and tenderness.
Maggie exhaled a shaky laugh, forcing her mouth into a crooked grin. “Danica, don’t you want to add some trauma to even the score? Really balance the energy in here?”
Danica blinked, startled, then let out an incredulous laugh. “What, like… ‘Surprise, I once shoplifted lip gloss in high school’?”
“That doesn’t count,” Maggie said, managing a smile. “Trauma minimum is at least a dead relative or failed relationship.”
Kiera groaned into her towel. “You’re impossible.”
Danica shook her head, but her smile softened. “Nice try. But no. Today’s not about keeping score.”
“Damn,” Maggie muttered, sinking back against the chair. “Worth a shot.”
The tension thinned, the heavy air giving way to quiet chuckles, and Maggie let herself close her eyes, grateful for the reprieve. Grateful that they let her crack and then let her laugh it off, too.
The laughter softened, fading into the hush of warm air and faint music. Maggie let her eyes fall closed again, her hands still tangled with Kiera’s and Danica’s, the three of them a little cocoon of quiet.
Then Danica’s voice wavered into the stillness. “I just need to say something, and you can’t make fun of me.”
Maggie cracked one eye open. “Okay, here it comes.”
Danica sniffled already, cheeks flushed pink beneath her mask.
“I’m just… I’m so thankful for you two. For both of you.
For this.” She gestured vaguely at their linked hands, her robe sleeve slipping down.
“Like, do you know how rare it is? To have friends who’ve seen every version of you, even the ugly ones, and still stay anyway? ”
Kiera blinked rapidly, her mouth twitching. “Danica—”
“No, I’m serious.” Danica’s voice shook, but she plowed on. “You’ve been there through everything. Through the worst. And you still show up. And I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I… I love you both so much.”
Maggie felt the sting immediately, hot behind her eyes. She pressed the towel to her face, laughing helplessly as tears welled again. “Damn it, Danica.”
Kiera was already crying, too. “You’re not allowed to do this while I’ve got a seaweed mask on, you monster.”
Maggie was gone again, tears sliding, shoulders shaking, laughing and crying all at once. The three of them sat there in spa robes with their faces tear-streaked, masks ruined, clutching each other’s hands like lifelines.
They sat there a moment longer, sniffling and holding hands, the estheticians probably horrified behind their polite smiles.
Danica hiccuped through her tears, and Kiera dabbed uselessly at her face with the edge of her towel. Kiera laughed wetly, shaking her head. “We’re a disaster. A very expensive disaster.”
Danica let out a choked laugh of her own. “This has to be the ugliest spa brochure photo in history.”
Maggie sniffled again. “We should ask for a group discount. Three-for-one breakdown special.”
That broke them all — laughter bubbling up through the tears until they were doubled over in their robes, shoulders shaking.
Maggie gasped, clutching her stomach. “I swear, if one of you starts sobbing again, I’m demanding a refund.”
“Too late,” Kiera managed, still laughing, wiping at her cheeks.