Chapter 21
21
“So what do you do?”
The question, Maggie reflected, would have meant more if it had come an hour, or even half an hour, earlier. As it was, she’d listened to Eric Roberts drone on about himself and his oh-so-important job as a corporate lawyer for most of the evening without him asking a single thing about her. It had been more than a little dull, and that was without taking into consideration the fact that she hadn’t wanted to be here in the first place.
Eric Roberts had worked with Lynn before moving to Hartford a couple of months ago. He was mid-forties, divorced, okay looking, and probably an all-around good guy. Lynn had tried to talk him up, but Maggie had zero interest in him.
“I run a boardgame café,” she told him as she took a sip of her wine. They’d met midway between Starr’s Fall and Hartford, at a bistro on Route 4, air-kissing each other’s cheeks before descending into awkward chitchat. And then Eric had started talking about himself and Maggie had more or less tuned out.
“A boardgame café,” he repeated. He looked like he had no idea what to make of that. “What kinds of games?”
“All kinds,” Maggie told him. “We’re holding a gaming conference next weekend, actually, where people can play RainQuest for twenty-four hours straight.” That had been, of course, Ben’s idea. He and his new friends had arranged it all, and they had an incredible sixteen sign-ups so far. Slice of Heaven and The Rolling Pin were going to provide food, and Ben was livestreaming the event to other gamers. He had lots of other ideas, too—a Scrabble tournament, Saturday afternoon tutorials in new games, an evening trivia quiz.
“RainQuest? Is that, like, some kind of fantasy game? Like Dungeons he was out with his new friends, something that thrilled her, but she’d still sensibly given him a 10p.m. curfew.
The sweep of loneliness that she felt coming for her as she drove down the darkened road was different than those she’d endured after Matt’s death. It wasn’t grief so much as longing, a longing for Zach. She’d put the figurine he’d made for her on her bedside table. Every time she looked at it, her heart ached with both longing and loss. She could find him right now, she thought suddenly. She knew where his log cabin was. She could knock on the door and tell him she was crazy, crazy about him , and see what happened. Where it led.
Already Maggie knew she wouldn’t. There were far too many reasons not to—for Zach’s sake as well as her own, and also for Ben’s. And yes, she was also chicken. She’d been rebuffed once before, and it had hurt . Laying herself out there again, and even more this time, did not feel like a good—or safe—thing to do.
And ever since Matt’s death, she knew she’d had a big thing about being safe. Hiding away from life until Zach had forced her to take more than a few timid steps back into the land of the living. Not risking her heart, both because it hurt and also because part of her still struggled with wondering if she even had the right to such happiness. Did she deserve a second chance?
Everyone had issues, Maggie knew. Life—and people—were complicated. And her emotions were so tangled up that she didn’t know if the reason she didn’t knock on Zach’s door was because she was afraid, or because she was being smart. Maybe a little bit of both.
As she pulled into Starr’s Fall, the town’s quiet peace felt like a comforting blanket being wrapped around her shoulders. The air was full of the smell of lilac as she parked the car and headed toward the café. Ben hadn’t replied to her text, which would have once alarmed her, but now she knew he was out with his new friends and most likely having a good time. She was so, so glad her son had started to move on, but even that made her feel lonelier. She needed to move on, too… from Zach.
As Maggie came upstairs, Penny greeted her by winding her way between her legs, so she scooped up the cat into her arms and carried her into the darkened kitchen. She flicked on the lights and then sank into the chair by the desk, Penny purring in her lap. All around her the house settled softly into the darkness, and the sense of loneliness tugged at her, started to sweep her under.
She could have stopped by Laurie’s, Maggie knew. Laurie was meeting her biological mother next weekend and was both anxious and excited about it, a potent emotional combination Maggie understood all too well. She could have driven over to the Lymans, checked in on Annie and Barb; Annie had started looking into hospice care for Barb, which was heart-wrenching for both of them. Or, Maggie reflected, she could have called on Henrietta Starr, who had recently invited her over for tea. She’d come in to play Scrabble twice more, and Maggie had enjoyed both games, as well as the old lady’s acerbic wit. And there was Elaine, Liz, Zoe, Jenna… There were plenty of friends she could have called on rather than sit here alone in the dark, because right now there was only one person she wanted to be with.
The computer beeped, and Maggie turned to it, clicking on the mouse to see the purple and green screen of the RainQuest game come up. Ben must have left the house mid-game, and there was a message in his profile’s chatbox, from the Zachanator.
Hey, you there?
Maggie’s heart lurched, and then, having no idea of the ethics of the situation, she typed Yes before she deleted it and typed Yeah instead. That sounded much more like Ben, although why she was trying to impersonate her son she had no idea. She just wanted to connect with Zach.
A few seconds passed and then Zach typed:
Are you playing?
Maggie knew she wasn’t nearly competent enough to attempt to play RainQuest, even though she had her own profile.
No. Not right now.
Another second, and then simply:
???
Maggie let out a soft huff of laughter. How was she supposed to respond to that? And did she really want to pretend to be Ben for much longer? Hold on , she typed, and then she logged out of Ben’s profile and switched to her own. As Maggie-kai, her heart thumping, she typed:
Hi.
A long pause then, and finally Zach typed:
Maggie?
A soft laugh escaped her.
Yep.
I already suspected it was you.
A small gasp escaped her.
How?
Because no teenager types in full sentences, with punctuation.
She laughed softly.
Busted. I was sitting here alone in the dark and your message came up.
Another long pause. Her heart was starting to beat hard.
Why are you alone in the dark?
And then, before she could start replying:
I thought tonight was your big date.
Nothing big about it.
And then:
I wish I hadn’t gone.
It felt like a confession.
That bad, huh? I’ve been on a few of those.
He was keeping it light, Maggie realized, and so should she. They were just friends, after all.
I could have watched three whole episodes of Is It Cake? instead. Talk about a missed opportunity.
Another pause, this one longer than ever. Maggie held her breath. Then he replied:
If we’re going to talk about missed opportunities…
Her breath came out in a rush. She waited. There was nothing more. An entire minute passed, each tick of a second on the clock on the wall seeming to echo through the kitchen and right through her. Which one of them was willing to risk first? Say what they really felt?
Are we?
Maggie finally typed, like a dare.
Still no reply. She got up from her chair and went to put on the kettle. Made herself a cup of tea and let it steep for three whole minutes while Penny wound around her ankles. Still nothing from the Zachanator. A sense of disappointment so deep it felt like grief swept through her. He was going to leave it there, and so then would she. She didn’t really have any choice, did she?
Taking her tea, Maggie sat down in front of the computer. She stared at the message inbox, willing the words to appear. I miss you. I want to be with you. I’m sorry for what I said before. Let’s start over.
Was he thinking any of those things? Did he want to say them to her? Or maybe he’d moved on, and had gone back to playing RQ, their messages back and forth forgotten.
The only way she was going to read those words on the screen, Maggie realized with a lurch of panic as well as a surge of conviction, was if she typed them herself. And why shouldn’t she? Surely risking and losing was better than sitting here alone in the dark, wishing she’d said something. Hadn’t she told Laurie as much? There was no point in trying to keep yourself safe just so you’d have to learn to live with the regret. You got hurt anyway.
Maggie took a sip of tea to fortify herself, and then she started typing.
* * *
Maybe he was being really stupid, but Zach felt like being stupid, or at least being bold. When he’d been typing to Maggie, he’d realized he hadn’t wanted to have this kind of conversation by text. Some things were too important to skirt around. And while he’d certainly been burned by rushing in too fast before, this didn’t feel fast anymore. It felt right… and necessary. He would tell her once and for all how he felt and if she backed away again, well then, fine. It would be over. But at least then he would know.
He parked his truck behind her car, climbed out, and headed to Your Turn Next. He raised his hand to knock but then, after a second’s pause, he unlocked the door of the boardgame café instead. Maggie had given him a spare key months ago, when he’d first started working on the bookshelves. He’d meant to give it back, but he never had. Now he walked quietly through the café that they’d built together and then up the stairs. Then he knocked on the door to Maggie and Ben’s apartment.
He heard her little yelp of surprise and smiled.
“Ben?” she called uncertainly. “Is that you?”
“Nope,” Zach called back. Another yelp. Improbably, he found himself grinning.
He heard the sound of footsteps, and then Maggie threw open the door. She was wearing her purple skirt with the blue patches and her hair was tumbled about her face, including that streak of white. She looked flushed and discombobulated and entirely lovely.
“How did you get in?” she asked breathlessly. He held up the key. “Oh.” She pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks and then dropped them. “You drove over here? Then I guess… I guess you didn’t read my message?”
Zach frowned. “What message?”
“On the game chat thing. I typed… well… I guess you’ll read it eventually.” She let out an uncertain, embarrassed laugh.
His curiosity well and truly piqued now, he strode over to the computer, reaching for the mouse.
“Oh…” Maggie practically squeaked as he clicked it to light up the screen. “I don’t… It’s different when you’re right here…”
“Isn’t this what you’re always having to tell teenagers?” he told her, mock-severely, as he turned around. He hadn’t read the message yet, but he was now officially dying of curiosity. “Don’t say something online you wouldn’t say in person. I’m sure you’ve told Ben that at least a million times.”
“Well, yes, but… I would say this in person,” Maggie told him, “but that doesn’t mean it isn’t scary and potentially very embarrassing.” She let out a little laugh that ended in a strangled sound as she ducked her head.
Okay, now he was seriously curious. Zach turned back to the screen and scanned her last message, his heart seeming to squeeze, expand, and turn over all at once as he read the words.
I think it’s time I said all the things I’ve been wanting to say for a long time. That you’re the kindest, truest, and I have to admit, sexiest guy I’ve ever met. I know I’ve backed away and said I’m not ready—and for a while I wasn’t—but even when I was ready, I still acted out of fear. Fear of risking my heart again, because it was only after Matt died that I realized how broken it had become—not from his death, but from what came before. How broken our marriage had become, and how I’d become someone I didn’t even recognize. I know that’s a lot to dump on you now, but I wish I could have explained it before. Maybe I should have said it’s not you, it’s me?? Anyway… it’s been hard to know how to stop acting out of fear, which is probably why I’m typing this rather than saying it to your face. And also because at this point I have no idea how you’ll respond, but I’ve come to the conclusion that I need to say it anyway. You might have moved on, with your cabin and your woodworking and your brand-new life, and that’s great. I really am genuinely so very happy for you, Zach.
She’d pressed send then, and then started to compose another message she hadn’t yet sent:
But I guess I’ve realized that for me to move on, with or without you, I need to say all this. To tell you that I think I’m
It ended there. Slowly, Zach turned around. Maggie was gazing at him with wide eyes, her face pale, her fingers knotted together as she waited for his response to all that she’d typed.
“That you’re…?” Zach prompted. “You didn’t finish.”
She swallowed hard. “You knocked on the door.”
“So what do you think you are…?” he continued, wanting her to finish that very intriguing thought. “‘To tell you that I think I’m…?’” he prompted again softly. “Maggie…?”
“You’re making this very difficult for me,” she whispered, her nervous gaze locked on his face. “Since you have not given me a clue about how you felt about all the rest, and I said quite a few things there.”
“Well, I like that you think I’m the sexiest guy you ever met,” Zach quipped, a grin tugging at his mouth as he took a step toward her. Happiness was unfurling inside him, spreading through him like he’d swallowed the sun. “But it actually means more to me that you think I’m the kindest.” He reached for her clasped hands, gently prying her fingers apart so he could link them with his own, sliding their palms together. “And I appreciate everything you told me about your marriage and Matt, and we can talk about all that more later, but… to give you a clue, I could have typed a very similar message about you, pretty much word for word, but I decided to come over here in person and tell you instead.”
Maggie’s eyes widened as her fingers tightened on his. “So tell me,” she whispered.
“Okay.” Zach took a deep breath. “A few months ago you asked me why I was interested in you, and I gave you some answers. Those are still true, of course, but now I know so much more. I know how deeply you feel and love and how much you fight to protect those you love. I know you’re willing to admit when you’re wrong and forgive when someone else is. I know you can laugh at yourself but at the same time you feel for people deeply?—”
“Like the aasimar,” Maggie said, and he laughed softly.
“So you did read those descriptions.”
“Yes, and it felt like you’d got right inside my head. Although I hope I’m not as mournful as the shadar-kai, even if you made one for me, and she’s beautiful. I’ve kept her by my bed?—”
“Shadar-kai are strong,” he told her. “They’ve triumphed over their grief, just like you have.”
“Grief really did a number on me,” she confessed quietly. “Especially because it felt so complicated. Matt and I… well, like I said, our marriage was pretty broken. And I was kind of broken… Matt could be controlling, and I guess I let him control me. I became someone I didn’t really like. We didn’t have as strong a marriage as I wished we’d had.”
Zach’s heart ached for her, even as he realized he was unsurprised. “I think I sort of guessed that, by some of the things you said,” he told her gently. “And didn’t say. But I’m sorry for what you went through.”
“That emotional astuteness I still need to credit you with,” she quipped, and he laughed, tugging on her hand to draw her closer. She came, standing before him, her face full of both vulnerability and trust.
“If I’d finished that sentence,” she told him, an honest matter-of-factness to her tone, without any teasing or hesitation, “then I would have said that I think I’m falling in love with you.” She stopped abruptly, waiting for his response.
Zach gazed down at her and felt a rush of love so strong and sweet it almost made him dizzy. She was everything he’d ever wanted—not the fairy-tale ending in itself, the way he’d once been looking for, but the life partner to walk by his side. How had he not realized that before? Never mind what they said in the movies, people didn’t complete you. They accompanied you. They supported and strengthened, held and loved you, all along the way.
“Then you’d better keep up,” he murmured as he slid his hands up to cup her face. “Because I’m pretty sure I know I’m already in love with you.”
And then he kissed her, slow and sweet and deep, the way he felt. The way she felt. Amazingly.
As they broke apart, Maggie smiled, looking dazed but also still a little worried. “I’m still so much older than you,” she blurted.
Zach laughed softly. “And, funny thing about age, you always will be.”
“Zach…” she pressed, “doesn’t that bother you? I mean, looking down the road… not to get all intense so soon or anything, but… I’m forty-one. If you want children… I know that’s a lot to think about now, but I’m…” She trailed off, nibbling her bottom lip.
He considered this, knowing she needed—and deserved—an honest answer. “Maggie, I don’t want to make any sweeping statements at this stage, except that I love you and want to be with you, and that is worth it to me. As for what the future holds… maybe we should just see what happens?” He pulled her back toward him. “Together.”
She stared up at him for a long moment, taking in his words, and as her expression softened, Zach hoped she was trusting them. Neither of them could know what the future held, only that they could choose to face it together, with joy as well as gratitude, with courage as well as hope.
“Okay,” she whispered, and he brushed a kiss across her lips just as they both heard the thundering of footsteps up the stairs. Before they could pull apart, Ben flung open the door, did a double take, and then fist-pumped the air as he crowed in delight, “Finally!”