CHAPTER 19—MADDIE
***
Becca: Mads, we need to talk.
Becca: Is Rose there?
Becca: Hellloooooo?
"WHAT ARE YOU DOING here?" I yank my sister into my apartment, eyeing my watch. "At three ten in the freaking morning?"
Rose bites her lower lip, looking like she rolled out of bed and onto a red-eye flight. Her usual polished I-got-this actress look is MIA. There's uncertainty in her eyes, but despite her hair being a mess of flyaways and her roots showing, despite the oversized sweatpants she's wearing like she's forgotten what paparazzi are, she looks... happy?
But also... scared? Is she in shock? Did something happen?
"Rose to Planet Earth?" I press, panic creeping into my voice. "Are Mom and Dad okay?"
She nods, but stays silent. Great.
"You have to say something. You can't barge in here like it's the season finale of your series and then clam up."
"You weren't home," she points out, like that explains everything.
"Okay...?"
"You were at his apartment," she continues, and is that a smirk? "Like you can't stay away from him. Like when he's around, you feel safer, more yourself, happier, even. Or like you're learning what happiness really is."
"What? Did you take something? You drove here!"
"I saw you look at him when you said goodbye. I heard your voice. Your giggle! You giggled, Mads."
"His music was loud," I mutter, not about to write a dissertation on my laugh repertoire. Especially since I still haven't written and when I came back I scheduled my second to last #DearSantaWithLove letter. "Not the point. Why are you here?"
Rose's usual confidence is nowhere to be found. She's biting her lip, fidgeting with the hem of her sweatshirt, and I can almost see the gears turning in her head, like she's trying to figure out how to say something big, something that's been weighing on her.
"I drove from the city."
"You drove from the city," I echo, like repetition will make this make sense.
"There was traffic and..." She taps her fingers on the counter, and Fluffy - traitor that he is - jumps up to greet her. I'm left staring as she pets my usually grumpy cat, humming some tune I can't place.
"There was traffic..." I prompt. "That doesn't explain everything. Actually, that doesn't explain anything."
Rose looks up at me with one of those million-watt smiles - not her practiced ones, but the real deal. "I'm in love with your best friend"
My brain short-circuits. "Rewind. You're in love with my best friend? My... who... what?"
"Becca. I'm in love with Becca."
"You're in love with Becca. My Becca."
"I want her to be my Becca."
"Slow down. Slow down." I feel like I'm in some bizarre dream.
"Nothing happened," Rose rushes to explain. "I was there last night. And I wanted to kiss her. I really wanted to kiss her. And I think she wanted to kiss me, too. But I didn't, because... I didn't want to mess it up by rushing it, you know? I needed to be sure, needed to know that it wasn't just some fleeting thing." She pauses, biting her lip. "It felt too big, too real. I couldn't just jump in without thinking it through."
I nod slowly, understanding more than I want to admit. "I get it. You didn't want to risk everything by moving too fast. But.... if you know it's real, sometimes you just have to take that leap." I pause. "And you're sure you're in love?" I ask, wondering if I've somehow stepped into an alternate universe where my sister turns into a spontaneous rom-com heroine. "Like that? With someone you've known for years?"
"Sometimes, it's easy. You know? It doesn't have to be hard and earned and whatever bullshit our parents always said. Sometimes we don't have to win love, we can just feel it."
I tilt my head with a frown. "But I thought you said your agent was wary about you being in a relationship at all. And wait. How long did you have feelings? And why did you drive all the way here? Did you almost kiss my best friend and up and left?"
"Well, no. This isn't one of my soap operas. I told you I wanted to talk to you in person. Because it's easy." She frowns. "But it's also... not. I'm scared. Becca knows how much I care. And she cares for me, too."
I tilt my head, absorbing everything Rose is telling me. "You don't need my permission. You're almost thirty, not in high school."
Rose sighs, and for a moment, she looks less like the composed, always-in-control actress and more like my big sister, raw and real. "It's not about permission. It's about... this is different. I'm in love with her. Really in love. And that kiss? It wasn't just going to be some casual thing. It would be crossing a line where everything changes, and that freaks me out because... what if it doesn't work out? What if I mess it up? I don't want you to lose her."
I reach for my necklace, fingers tracing the familiar shape as I speak. "You know, this reminds me of what Grandma and Grandpa told us on their 50th anniversary. Remember?"
My voice softens, taking on a nostalgic tone. "They said that love isn't just about the initial butterflies. It grows deeper, but those tingles? They don't disappear."
I pause, gathering my thoughts. "That woosh of love you feel when you look at her? It stays. It might evolve, but it doesn't vanish."
My grip on the necklace tightens slightly. "Those goosebumps, that spark? They stick around. But they build on all you've shared, all you're planning together."
I smile, thinking of our family. "Look at Mom and Dad. Have you seen how Dad still looks at Mom? That connection they have? It's something special."
Rose lets out a shaky laugh, her usual bravado slipping just a little. "You're right. I know you are. It's just... the older we get, the harder it is to take those leaps, you know? You start thinking about all the ways it could go wrong, all the things you've worked for that could be jeopardized. The loving part is easy. It's the... rest. It's being your true self with someone you care so much about. Not realizing that they care so much because you're showing them who you really are. Not the version you think they'll love."
As Rose talks about her fears, I feel a knot tightening in my chest—a familiar tension that never quite goes away. The worry in her eyes, the hesitation in her voice—it's like she's holding up a mirror to my own insecurities. She's voicing the thoughts I keep buried, the ones I don't have time to entertain because I've been too busy trying to be perfect, to succeed.
And Damian...he's not asking me to change who I am, not really. But I'm scared—scared that wanting more, that letting myself hope for something real, will expose me to failure, to losing control, to him pushing me away—when he's one of the few who knows the real me. Including the parts I don't always want to see myself.
Yet, here is Rose, ready to take that leap because she knows deep down that love is worth the risk. If she can do it, then what's stopping me from being myself?
I take a deep breath, unclenching my grip on my necklace. Maybe it's time to admit that I want something more, something real. And that I'm ready to take that leap, too.
"I love her," Rose tells me again, smiling. "I love her laugh. And her drive. And the little dimple on her cheek. I love the way she cares. And the way she jumps at every noise."
"I'm not saying everything is going to be easy, but Rose, if you came here for me to tell you to wait... I'm going to disappoint you. I'm happy for you. And if you're still worried, maybe you should be telling all of this to Becca, not just me."
She gives me a soft smile, and I can see the weight of the decision settling on her. "You're right. I should tell her. I just... needed to say it out loud first. I didn't want you to stop it, but I think I needed someone who understood me and wouldn't laugh."
"I'm not laughing," I say, my voice firm but filled with affection. "I'm happy for you. Like, really happy. And yeah, I get it. We're not kids anymore, but that doesn't mean we should stop taking chances. If it's real, if it's worth it, then it's worth the risk."
Rose nods, a soft smile on her face. "I want to ask her to come to Christmas. I didn't want you to be blindsided if she does say yes."
"I'm not there for Christmas. I'm doing the Christmas-Eve-Adopthon."
"I know. But I also feel like you're finally living your story. Also you haven't talked about the contest in a while?"
I can recognize distraction when I see it. "Not the point!"
And then because she's my sister and she still loves to have the last word, she adds. "And based on what I've seen, you're actually living a steamy romance story." She pauses, eyebrow arching like she's about to deliver the punchline to a joke I didn't know we were telling. "That's a cute toy." Her hand hovers over my Princess Peach cat toy, and when she reaches to give it to Fluffy, I lunge forward like I'm diving for the last slice of pizza.
"Nope. That's mine." The words come out more possessive than I intend, and I feel heat creep up my neck.
There's a knowing glint in her eyes that makes me want to squirm. "Hmm-hmmm," she hums, and I swear I can hear the smirk in her voice. "I'm pretty sure that's not the only thing - or person - you'd like to say that about..."
I resist the urge to throw the toy at her head. Barely. Since when did my sister become so... perceptive? And annoying? Oh wait, the annoying part's always been there.
But when she smiles again and asks me how I'm doing, there's something in my chest that softens like chocolate on a stove. Because I know she cares.
She always will.
No matter who she's with.
I grab my phone, my fingers moving on autopilot. Yep, Becca's online—probably freaking out as much as I am. I take a deep breath, hit call, and wait for the familiar voice of my best friend.
And as the phone rings, I can't help but think, "If Rose can take the leap, then maybe I can too."
I'm going to tell them I'm scared. Worried. That this whole thing feels like someone's flipped my world upside down and given it a good shake.
But I'm also going to tell them that I wish them the best.
Because I do.