21.
Maggie
I woke up to a voicemail from Therese informing me Jonathan was available for lunch.
It was Monday morning, and I already felt drained. I lay in bed, willing myself to find the energy to rise. As I’d told Shay yesterday, I was bruised. That was the best way I could think to describe it. I understood how he came to the wrong conclusion, but being confronted by him, practically accused, hurt me deeply. He’d briefly believed I’d been keeping something from him and it was hard to stomach. That he could ever think there was a chance I’d go behind his back with Nigel made me feel ill.
It shattered me, to be honest.
So, yes, while I was still hopelessly in love with Shay, I was also very mad at him. My feelings had frayed edges, and I was prickly. It was why I ignored the messages he sent saying “Good morning” and “I love you.” I knew it was petty, but I hated what happened yesterday. I’d thought what we had was stronger, but maybe it wasn’t.
Could we get to a place of strength, given Shay’s issues with trust and mine with opening up? Surely, a stronger relationship could be built over time. And considering how his last one ended, it was understandable he might think he was falling victim to the same situation all over again. I felt for him in that regard, but on a selfish level, I still needed to nurse my wounds for a while.
Finally managing to drag myself to the shower, I washed away some of yesterday’s stress, then returned Therese’s call once I was out. I agreed to have lunch with Jonathan. Since finding out he was my brother, we were overdue for a conversation. Over the last week, I’d managed to get my head around having an older half-sibling, one who expressed a desire to be in my life. It felt nice to have that, a new family connection, but I was also nervous about whether we’d get along or have anything in common. Our lives were so opposite.
Would we even have anything to talk about?
When I stepped out of my flat, I was surprised to find a familiar Volkswagen idling outside. Wasn’t that Eugene’s car? Shay sat in the driver’s seat, climbing out when he saw me emerge.
“What’s going on?” My heart gave a hard thud. Despite being mad at him, I was still unfortunately devastatingly attracted to Shay. My emotions were all over the place. One part of me longed to kiss him, while the other part still smarted over yesterday.
“Thought you could do with a break from the bus,” he typed into his phone.
His expression was unsure, his eyes sad and remorseful. He looked tired, like he’d been tossing and turning all night. Had guilt kept him up? A trickle of empathy tugged on my heartstrings. Even though he’d hurt me, I still hated the idea of him suffering.
Staring at Shay, a small crack formed in the ice around my heart. Offering me a lift was a simple gesture but an appreciated one. It was a freezing cold morning, and I was very tempted to climb into the warm car and let Shay whisk me to work. My stubborn side refused to give in so easily though.
“That’s okay. I think I’ll stick with the bus.” The words had barely left my mouth when he moved in front of me. Shay took my hand, lifting it to his mouth and turning it to brush his lips over the inside of my wrist. My breath caught, and he glanced at me, his lips still pressed to my skin. A shiver trickled down my spine. His look was sensuous, pleading, and I didn’t have it in me to walk away.
“Fine,” I allowed, a quiver in my voice. “You can d-drive me to work.”
His mouth left my hand, briefly brushing my cheek before he pressed his warm palm to the small of my back and led me around to the passenger side. I lowered into the car, and Shay closed the door. The rich aroma of coffee hit my nose, and I spotted a takeaway cup in the holder nearest my seat, alongside a small paper bag.
“Those are for you,” Shay typed.
“You shouldn’t have,” I told him quietly.
He reached out to stroke my hair. I turned to him; a lump of emotion lodged in my throat. His eyes held mine, so full of love and adoration I could barely stand it. He let out a long, pained sigh, then glanced away. It was only as he withdrew I noticed the redness around his knuckles and gasped. Acting on instinct, I pulled his hand into mine to inspect it.
“What happened?”
A shadow passed over his features as he gently withdrew his hand without response.
“Shay?” I pressed, eyebrows rising.
He sighed, then typed, “Nigel came over yesterday. We got into it. I ended up punching him.”
I inhaled sharply at his blunt statement. “Oh my God.” I just couldn’t imagine Shay punching anyone. Sure, he was a big guy with a muscular physique, but he was also incredibly restrained. It was hard to envision him losing his cool.
“I didn’t do it because of Emer. I did it because of the misunderstanding he caused with you and me. I hate him for doing that to us. I also hate myself for being an impulsive idiot and jumping to conclusions.”
Was it messed up that my heart softened to hear his reason?
“Is he going to press charges?” I asked, worried.
“I doubt it. Nigel’s a dick, but he’s not that much of a dick. Deep down and man to man, he knows he deserved it.”
“I hope you’re right,” I said, not enjoying the idea of the Gards showing up at Shay’s door. It again reinforced how much I still loved him, despite everything that happened yesterday.
Setting his phone down, Shay put the car in gear. A moment later, he pulled out onto the road. The radio was on low, but the silence between us felt thick. On one level, I wanted to lash out at him, ask how he could’ve possibly imagined there was anything between Nigel and me. The very notion was absurd.
On the other hand, he was being so sweet and considerate that morning it was hard to stay angry at him. He’d punched his ex-best friend for me. I might not have condoned the violence, but I knew it represented the intensity of his feelings for me, for what we had, because I felt that same intensity.
Leaning forward, I delicately lifted the coffee and took a sip. Then I checked the bag, my stomach rumbling when I saw the pecan and maple pastry. I’d been too stressed that morning to eat, and now, I was suddenly famished.
Shay glanced at me briefly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when he saw I’d accepted his offerings.
“This doesn’t mean you’re forgiven. I’m still mad at you,” I said quietly after taking a small bite from the pastry.
Shay gave a nod, his expression sobering as he focused on the road. The heavy morning traffic made the journey longer than it might have taken in the bus lane, but at least that way, I was warm and toasty in the car, and I didn’t have to listen to other people chattering or bickering or playing music out loud on their phones.
Shay pulled up outside my work and cut the engine. His hands flexed on the steering wheel as he turned his head, casting his gaze on me.
“You’re a good driver,” I said, breaking the quiet. “Why do you always take the bus?”
His expression morphed into something truly intense. It made my neck feel hot.
He started to sign very slowly, allowing me a better chance to translate.
Because … it means … I get to … spend time with you.
Was that what he said? My cheeks flushed, heart pounding. His eyes searched mine, trying to determine whether I understood. Not wanting to deal with the emotions his statement brought forth, I scrambled for my bag.
“I think I need more practice,” I whispered, clearing my throat and glancing away. “Thank you for the coffee and the pastry. I better get inside, or I’ll be late.”
With that, I scurried from the car. My cheeks were blasted with chilly air before the welcome heat when I stepped inside the building. I headed to my office and fired up the computer, finding a voice message from Therese. She verbally listed out everything I needed to do for the day. I was struck by her thoughtfulness. Anyone else would’ve left me a written list, which would’ve been way more stressful.
About five minutes before my lunch break, there was a knock on my office door. Thinking it was Therese coming to check in on me, I called for her to enter. The door opened, and Shay appeared. I immediately stood, flustered by his sudden presence.
“Shay, what are you—”
“I wanted to take you to lunch if you’re free?” he typed into his phone, and my hostility cracked further. Why did he have to be so sweet? The urge to forgive him ate at my resolve.
I pressed my lips together, my expression apologetic. “I can’t, but it’s only because I already agreed to have lunch with Jonathan. We’re going to finally have that talk.”
Shay nodded in understanding, though he did look a bit disappointed. “Right. Maybe I can take you to lunch tomorrow, then?”
“Sure,” I replied, and he brightened, his eyes intent on me. He barely glanced at his phone, his fingers typing instinctively.
“It’s a date, then.” He paused, still gazing at me. “You’re so beautiful. I wish I could kiss you.”
A swirl of conflicting emotions seized my lungs. I stepped closer to him and reached up to cup his cheek. “I’m not there yet,” I told him quietly, and he closed his eyes, seeming to melt into my touch. “But soon. Probably.”
Again, he nodded. A few moments passed before I finally stepped away.
“See you later, yeah?” I said just as Jonathan appeared in the doorway.
“Maggie, are you ready to head to lunch?” he asked, glancing from me to Shay.
I cleared my throat. “Yes, of course. This is my boyfriend, Shay,” I said, introducing them and realising it was the first time I’d referred to Shay as my boyfriend to another person. His look told me he approved of the new title as he stepped forward to shake Jonathan’s hand.
“Ah, great to meet you, Shay,” Jonathan said, and Shay nodded, though his expression was somewhat guarded. I sensed he hadn’t made his mind up about Jonathan yet, which was understandable because I hadn’t exactly made my mind up about him either.
A small moment of silence fell as Jonathan waited for Shay to respond, and my brain kicked into gear as I explained. “Um, Shay is mute. He uses sign language, mainly.”
“I see,” Jonathan replied while Shay continued eyeing him with mistrust. Jonathan glanced back to me. “I’ll meet you out front,” he said, dipping his head to Shay and then leaving.
“I don’t know about that bloke,” Shay typed. “Should I come with you?”
I placed a hand on his forearm. “I’ll be fine. We’re only going to a café nearby.”
Shay’s eyes went to my hand, before lifting to meet my gaze. He studied me a moment, then exhaled. “I’ll stop by and drive you to your cleaning shift later, okay?”
Again, I was touched by the offer. “Sure, see you then.”
Leaning forward, he whispered his lips over my cheek, causing my pulse to elevate, and then he left. I stood in the office for a few seconds to gather myself before grabbing my coat and going out to meet Jonathan. My half-brother eyed me speculatively as I approached.
“Your boyfriend isn’t a fan of mine,” he said when I reached him.
“He doesn’t know you, so he’s reasonably suspicious.”
Jonathan held the door open, and we walked across the street towards the fancy French café Therese booked us a table at. “He’s also heard you’re a ruthless employer,” I went on. “So, he’s reserving judgement right now.” I cast him a glance. “As am I.”
Jonathan’s lips twitched, almost like he was proud of the label. “And where exactly has he heard this?”
“We were both informed by a mutual acquaintance,” I replied, deciding it was best not to throw Rhys under the bus in case he and Jonathan happened to cross paths in the future.
“Well, I run a tight ship. I won’t apologise for that. If the thievery of my previous building manager taught me anything, it’s not to give second chances,” he said as we entered the café, and the waiter, seeming to recognise Jonathan, immediately led us to a spacious table with a view by the window.
“So, your boyfriend is mute. How does it work between the two of you? Do you know sign language?” Jonathan asked after we were seated.
I blew out a small breath. “I’m learning. It’s going to take time. Right now, we mostly use an app that translates his text into speech.”
“That’s convenient. There really is an app for everything these days.”
“Seems so, yes.”
“How long have you been together?”
I worried my lip, glancing out the window at the people passing by. “Not long. We’re very new, actually. And things haven’t been smooth so far.”
Jonathan’s eyebrows rose. “Oh?”
Frowning, I took a sip from the glass of water the waiter filled before answering, “Yesterday, his best friend got drunk and confessed to having slept with Shay’s ex-girlfriend while they were still together. It happened over a year ago, but because his friend was drunk, he didn’t relay the information very clearly, which resulted in Shay misinterpreting the whole thing and thinking I might be the one his best friend slept with.”
“Ah, so he wrongly accused you?”
“Correct,” I said, sighing, surprised by how much I’d revealed to Jonathan. There was a connection with him I hadn’t noticed before. A certain easiness. Maybe it was a familial thing, but for some reason, I felt comfortable telling him stuff. “Anyway, I can understand how he got it all mixed up, but I haven’t entirely forgiven him yet. That’s why he was at the office just now. He wanted to take me to an apology lunch, but I already had plans with you, so …” I trailed off, my attention wandering to the menu. The prices were steep, but since I was now earning a lot more money, I could afford to splash out.
“Don’t be too hard on him. Speaking as someone who has experience of being cheated on, it can create a certain … paranoia,” Jonathan said.
“Really? Someone cheated on you?” I asked, disbelieving. Not only was Jonathan an attractive guy, but he was also rich. It went to show that no matter how much of a catch you might be on paper, it still didn’t mean your relationships would be smooth sailing.
“Not only that,” he said, arching a wry eyebrow. “I was left standing at the altar.”
I gasped, my eyes widening. “No!”
“Unfortunately, yes,” he said, frowning down at the menu and clearing his throat.
“When was this?”
“Almost ten years ago. Another lifetime. She, ah, she’d been seeing someone else. Not my best friend, but still, that didn’t make it hurt any less. I hadn’t a clue until she didn’t show up on our wedding day.”
My mind conjured an image of Jonathan, ten years younger than he was now, handsome and tall in a tux as he stood waiting at the altar for a bride who never came. My heart squeezed for him. “That must’ve been awful.”
“It was, but it also taught me not to be so naive in my relationships going forward.”
“So, a small silver lining, then?”
“Indeed,” Jonathan replied just as the waiter returned to take our order. I’d barely had a chance to study the menu. Back before I’d started taking my literacy classes, that situation might’ve had me breaking out in a cold sweat, but now I took it in my stride. I took my time reading the options while Jonathan ordered the smoked mackerel. It was a little stressful that most of the items had French names, but then I remembered a Croque-Monsieur was basically a fancy cheese and ham toastie.
I only recognised it because Marco made one for my lunch at the Connollys a few Fridays ago. Like all his food, it had been mouth-wateringly delicious. I confidently ordered one and closed the menu.
“So,” I said once the waiter left. “Tell me about our father.”
Jonathan pressed his lips together. “Similar to you, he wasn’t really a part of my life, though I do remember him being around a few times when I was very young.”
“You said his name was Gerard Murphy?”
“That’s right. He was seventy-four when he died, so he had a good innings.” He glanced out the window, lifting his glass for a sip as he muttered under his breath, “Probably didn’t deserve it.”
I couldn’t focus on the muttered statement because I was too busy fixating on the first part of what he said. I mentally calculated the age difference between Gerard and my mam. She was seventeen when she got pregnant with me. That meant my father was in his forties at the time. Suddenly, I felt ill.
“Maggie, are you okay?” Jonathan asked.
“My mother was a teenager when I was born. Gerard would’ve been in his forties.”
“Christ,” Jonathan said, dragging his hand down his face as his expression sobered. “I knew he was a bastard, but I didn’t know he was that much of a bastard.”
My thoughts raced as I struggled to imagine the situation that might’ve brought them together. It certainly wasn’t a conventional relationship, if it even was any kind of relationship at all and not just sex. My stomach twisted thinking I might be the result of something rather dark and sordid. Was that why Mam turned out the way she did? No, Gerard’s name was on my birth certificate, so it couldn’t have been rape. But there were certainly other scenarios that weren’t much better.
“Did your mother speak of him much?”
Jonathan’s expression darkened. “Yes. According to Mam, Gerard was incredibly charming and handsome. He was also a profligate gambler, but she didn’t find that out until much later. Mam came from a respectable middle-class family, and her parents didn’t approve of Gerard, but that only made her want him more, of course. Before long, she was pregnant, and they were due to be married, but then Gerard’s gambling debts had dangerous people coming looking for him, so he fled the country. Mam was heavily pregnant, and all on her own. She had to return to her family, but luckily, they were good people and took her back in. She didn’t see Gerard again for a few years. He’d turn up every once in a while, claiming to have changed, that he wanted to be a part of our lives, but it only ever lasted for a few weeks before he disappeared again.”
I sent him a sympathetic look. “It sounds like I was better off never knowing him.”
Jonathan sighed. “Maybe you were.”
“And your mam,” I said, remembering what Therese mentioned about Jonathan falling out with her. “Do you see her much?”
A shadow passed behind his eyes. “No, unfortunately, she married someone else a number of years ago, and I couldn’t bring myself to give her my blessing.”
I frowned. “Why not?”
He sighed. “Some people just choose the same kind of wrong partner every time, and this bloke was just another Gerard Murphy in my opinion. She disagreed, and I was uninvited from the wedding.” He gave a shrug. “I’ve made my peace with it.”
Had he, though? There was a note of grief in Jonathan’s voice that told me he might not be as at peace with it as he claimed. I thought of him, with a mother who chose the man in her life over her own son and having been left at the altar by a cheating fiancée. I didn’t have experience with the latter, but I certainly had experience of the former.
Maybe our lives weren’t as opposite as I’d imagined.
“I’m sorry. It’s true about some people choosing the wrong sort of person over and over. Mam’s boyfriends were always the same type.”
“You said you have younger siblings. Who’s their father?”
“He’s passed away now, but we never got along. He convinced my mother to kick me out when I was sixteen.”
Jonathan glowered. “That’s unthinkable.”
I shrugged. “I know, but it was a long time ago.”
Our food arrived, and I thanked the waiter while Jonathan continued to study me. He looked strangely impressed, and I didn’t know why.
“You’re a survivor,” he declared as I lifted the piping hot sandwich dripping with cheese.
“I guess,” I shrugged. “Well, maybe we both are. I mean, look at you. You’ve achieved a lot more than I have.”
“Because I had a mother and grandparents who loved me and didn’t kick me out of the house at sixteen. You might be where I am had your circumstances been different. You’re certainly clever enough.”
I eyed him. “How do you know I’m clever?”
“Therese has attested to it. She relayed how impressed she was with the way you deal with your learning difficulty. She said you’re very patient with yourself, but you also don’t let yourself give up when you find things hard.”
I swallowed a bite of my sandwich, feeling emotional suddenly. I’d never seen myself that way. I just always felt like a failure, struggling with reading when it came so naturally to others. I felt a warmth fill my chest at how Therese had spoken of me.
“Well, that’s nice to hear,” I said, focusing on my food for a moment before I glanced at Jonathan once more.
“You should think about giving your mam another chance. She might choose the wrong men to fall in love with, but by the sounds of it, she was a good mother to you. You don’t want to miss out on having her in your life just because you don’t like her partner.”
Jonathan’s voice turned flat “It’s hard to be around someone who keeps making decisions they should know are bad for them.”
“I can understand that,” I said, thinking of my own mother and how she almost always made bad decisions. I just didn’t see Jonathan’s situation as being entirely the same, but maybe I didn’t know all the details.
We spent the rest of lunch getting to know each other better. By the end of it, I decided I was going to keep the job working for him. Jonathan wasn’t like anyone I’d ever met before, but I liked him. It was going to be interesting having someone like him as a brother.
And sure, it was a form of nepotism to take the job, but I’d dealt with enough rough cards in my time. I figured I deserved to take advantage of an opportunity when it came my way, even if I’d skipped a few steps to get there.
For the rest of the day, my thoughts kept wandering to Mam. I couldn’t stop thinking about the circumstances of her relationship with Gerard. I hadn’t known much about my maternal grandparents, but from Mam’s account, they weren’t the most reliable. I’d always said to myself, Yeah, so that’s where she gets it from. But maybe it was more complicated than that. Maybe Mam was adrift and alone, and she sought solace in an older man, thinking he’d protect her like a parent should.
Obviously, I’d only drive myself mad thinking up scenarios. The visit to see her was looming. Only a few days left before I’d be faced with her. Would she look different or the same? Had the years in prison aged her? Hardened her further?
True to his word, Shay turned up to drive me to my next shift, which was my final day at Mr Cole’s. Of all my clients, Alan was the one I was going to miss the most. I almost regretted not agreeing to let him paint me when he asked that one time. But maybe that wasn’t meant to be. Maybe Shay was always supposed to be the one to draw me, the one to see me.
When I climbed into the car, the heat was on full blast. There was what looked to be a Chinese takeout box in the centre console and a bottle of water.
Dinner, Shay signed. Eat. He knew I’d understand because those were words he’d taught me on our bus journeys. I still hadn’t told him how my YouTube algorithm was now full of ISL tutorials, how I watched them every night before I went to sleep. I knew more sign language than he was aware of, but I still struggled to understand when he signed very fast or used signs I hadn’t come across yet.
I opened the container and found Singapore noodles, which I distinctly remembered telling him I liked. That was another thing about Shay. He remembered the small details. I told him where I was headed, and he nodded. The drive didn’t last long enough for me to finish eating. Shay cut the engine after parking across the street from Mr Cole’s house.
Glancing at the dash, I saw I had some time to spare. “Do you mind waiting a few minutes, so I can finish these?”
Of course, Shay signed, sitting back in the driver’s seat, his head turned my way.
Thank you, I signed back at him, and his expression warmed.
I was vaguely aware of him pulling out his phone before he typed, “How did it go with Jonathan?”
I blew out a breath, taking a small break from shovelling noodles into my mouth. “It was good, a little depressing, though. By all accounts, my biological father was … not a great person, but I like Jonathan. I’ve decided I’m going to keep working for him and building a relationship.”
“You like him?” Shay asked, surprised.
I nodded. “He’s a decent man underneath it all. There’s a vulnerability to him, as well. I think he might be unhappy, lonely, really. He doesn’t talk to his mother anymore because she married someone he didn’t approve of. I think he wants to make amends but is too proud to reach out.”
“If my mother were still alive, there’s nothing in the world that would keep me from talking to her,” Shay said.
“Yes, well, not everyone is as open and loving as you are,” I replied, and his eyes heated. Flustered, I motioned to the food, “Thank you for this. It was so thoughtful. I better be getting in there before Mr Cole thinks I flaked on him.”
I closed up the noodles and set them aside. Then Shay leaned forward, his thumb wiping gently at the corner of my mouth. My breath caught. I knew there must’ve been something on my lips, sauce maybe. Shay’s eyes never left mine as he licked whatever it was from his thumb, then sat back. My heart was pounding. Was that his way of breaking me down? Turn me on so much I forgot why I was mad at him?
I emerged from the car; my cheeks warm as I dashed across the street. I let myself into the house when my phone vibrated with a text. It was from Shay.
Be back at 10:30 p.m. to pick you up.
I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips, not to mention the relief. Being driven around took away a lot of the stress of working back-to-back shifts.
And that was how the rest of the week went. Shay had requisitioned his father’s car to drive me to and from work. I didn’t bother eating at home because there was always food waiting for me when I got into the car. I started to feel guilty because I still wasn’t ready to go back to where we were.
I noticed Shay looked tired, like he hadn’t been sleeping. His hands on the steering wheel were stained with charcoal and flecks of paint. It made me wonder if he’d been staying up late to work on his art.
Was he throwing himself into a creative outlet to deal with the crack that had formed between us?
No, if anything, the crack was beginning to seal shut over the course of the week, my heart and chest full of feelings and warmth. I was almost there, almost ready to start trusting and opening up to him again.
On Friday, I was disappointed when Shay told me he wouldn’t be able to drive me to my later cleaning shift. He’d promised Rhys he’d cover for him at the hotel that night. It was fine, though. I was more than capable of walking and taking the bus.
After saying an emotional farewell to Marco and the Connollys, I headed home on the late bus, needing to sleep for at least ten hours to recover. I’d finished working my notice, and Jonathan’s office was closed until the New Year. I had ten days of blissful time off. As I let myself into my flat and slipped off my shoes, I got a strange sense someone had been inside. Was it Siobhan? She had a spare key for my flat in case of emergencies.
It was as I was asking myself that question that I turned and saw the large picture that hung on my normally bare wall. My keys and bag clattered to the floor as I took it in, clutching my chest as tears sprang forth.
It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen, and it was … me.