35. Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Five
Grady
I climbed into bed and refused to let disappointment drag me under. She hadn’t come. It was unlikely she’d appear tomorrow either, since it was Jim’s funeral.
Almost three hours ago, the concert had ended. We’d cleaned up, I’d signed autographs, and Lila had returned. She’d assured me that Maggie had seen my declaration and song, and she’d been rewatching it as Lila left. She hadn’t given any indication of how Maggie had taken my performance and declaration.
She processed things deeply, which is something I’d come to realize since I’d allowed myself to get to know Maggie to the fullest. Decisions were never made on the spur of the moment, but they were always decisive. I was the opposite—quick, impulsive decisions I sometimes regretted. In my heart, I’d hoped we’d learn to balance each other. That was only possible if she gave me another chance.
Whatever happened between us now, I’d put everything I had into that performance. It might have been just for her, but the video was trending across social media. Jack had called within half an hour of the live stream to see if I had enough material for a whole album. I did. More than enough.
The writing had been a torrent, ripping through until Maggie broke off our relationship. Then, my creativity slowed to a trickle. So much of my brain had become consumed with supporting her from afar, and there hadn’t been room for much else.
I tugged the blankets higher and rubbed my face. Hite and Zeus were on the bed on either side. Normally, I didn’t let them upstairs. My bed was a king-size, but with the two dogs, it felt more like a single, and a tight one at that. I buried my hands in their fur, and they stretched and yawned, pressing the covers tight against my legs. The chances of getting a good night of sleep were slim, anyway. When I wasn’t thinking about Maggie, my mind drifted to Jim.
Emily had confided her son, Amir, was struggling to understand his grandpa’s death. They’d been close, with Jim acting as a second parent more than a grandparent. I couldn’t imagine trying to explain death over and over to a young child who’d already lost his father. I knew from experience Amir might not remember all the memories made with his grandfather, but the feeling he’d gotten from the relationship would linger. It was a blessing, which sometimes felt like a curse, especially in those first few grief-filled days and weeks. You longed for the connection you’d never have again.
The doorbell pierced my dream. Without realizing it, I’d drifted to sleep. For a moment I wasn’t sure the sound was real. Hite and Zeus stirred, jumping off the bed and trotting down the stairs. I didn’t dare hope Maggie might be at the door so late at night. The funeral was tomorrow. It was just as likely to be a drunk Trent on my doorstep, looking to reminisce about our father, which he’d already done once this week. Where my memories of our dad sometimes felt too vivid, my brother mourned the lack of detail in his recollections. To me, Dad was a tangible person and to Trent, he was a shadow who loomed over our lives, never quite enough.
At the front door, I took a deep breath before opening it. On the other side, Maggie clutched her hands together, her cheeks stained with tears. I scanned her face, not sure what to make of her appearance. A lump was in my throat, making it impossible to speak.
“I thought,” she said, her words garbled, “you were looking for a way to let me go.”
“Come here.” I drew her into my chest, cradling her close. “Never, Maggie May. I meant every word of that song. I love you. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
Her hands circled my waist, and she sobbed into my chest. I smoothed her hair and kissed the top of her head. Crouching down, I lifted her into my arms and carried her up the stairs.
“My shoes,” she said. “And my coat.”
“Can go on my floor for one night. Or I’ll put them on a chair if the floor will stress you out.” I kissed her temple as she looped her arms around my neck and pressed her face into the hollow. “Maybe I’ll hide them so you can’t run away in the morning.” I was teasing, mostly.
She looked up and framed my face with her hands. I stared into her tear-filled coffee eyes. With her in my arms, on the threshold of being in my bed once again, my heart had never felt so full, so complete. There was nothing better than this feeling, than being with her.
“I love you,” she whispered, drawing my lips to hers.
Hearing those words was better than anything that had come before. I’d hoped she might return my feelings, or at least come to return them in time. Knowing she was there, that I’d won her heart made my chest expand. Nothing in my life compared to those words from her, not the places I’d seen, the things I’d won, not any other person I’d met. I hoped someday, when I was nearing the end of my life, this moment would be the one replaying.
“You love me?” My voice was hoarse with emotion. “You don’t have to—”
She put her finger to my lips. “I want to. I’ve wanted to say it for a while. I think I’ve loved you for a long time, but every day you’ve been back here, my love has gotten stronger. More.”
I laid her on the bed and stretched out beside her, my head resting against my palm. She traced the edge of my face, and I grinned. “You and me.”
A smile lit her up, and I saw the glow Jim had talked about. “You and me. Weird, right? Were we ever really rivals?”
I smoothed the strands of her hair which had gone astray. “We just got confused about what we were fighting for.”
Her smile faded. “Thanks for telling people to vote for me.”
“ I’m voting for you.” I splayed my free hand against my chest. “We both know you’re the best candidate.”
“Are you going to drop out?”
“Not unless you want me to. Otherwise, I’ll see it through. A lot of people put time and effort into helping me.” I owed it to Kelvin at the very least. When no one else had been willing to go against Maggie, Kelvin had agreed even when he’d thought I was making a mistake, entering the race for the wrong reasons.
“Ah, yes. Your harem of women.” Her lips twisted in amusement. She scanned my face, the amusement replaced with something softer. “You wrote me a song.”
I kissed her. She looped her arms around my neck and tugged me tight. When I drew back, my forehead touched hers. “I wrote you a whole album. Maybe two.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, it’s been—being with you has turned the tap back on. The music is there again, racing out of me onto the sheets. I guess we’ll see if it’s any good.”
“I liked tonight’s song even before I heard all of it.” Her fingers toyed with the tips of my hair. “You’ve been whistling it.”
“For a couple weeks, yeah.”
She twisted locks of my hair, lost in thought. “Kelvin’s video of you has over a million views already. I think I’m only a thousand or so of those.”
“You watched it that many times?”
“Mostly the part where you said you loved me so fucking much .” She brushed my cheek with her thumb. “The words filled my heart. You looked like you meant them.”
“Every word.” My voice was gruff. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone but you.”
“Kinda scares me a little.” Her worried gaze met mine.
“That I love you this much?”
“No.” She shook her head and offered a fleeting smile. “That I love you that much. My dad just died, and with the way I feel, I just don’t know if I could take losing someone else.”
I looked down at her, knowing the struggle. I was sure I’d been going through the same thing in my mind for years. Letting people in meant exposing yourself to risk. When you knew how deep the pain could run, how vicious the wound, protecting yourself became more important than anything.
But I’d never regretted how much I’d loved my dad, only that I hadn’t gotten more time with him. Deep down, I hadn’t regretted letting Maggie get close either, just the result. I was gunning for a different outcome this time.
“If you could give up the pain, would you give up the memories?” I kissed her forehead and gave her space to think.
“No.” Her voice was thick with tears. “No.”
I searched her face. “Then let’s make some really great memories, so any pain is worth it.”
Tears slipped down her cheeks, and I scooped them up with my thumbs. “I don’t know how you went from the guy who caused me problems to the one solving them.”
“I pulled my head outta my ass. It was warm there but kinda lonely.”
She laughed through her tears and pushed my shoulder. “You’re still gross.” With two fingers, she swept away the last of the moisture on her cheeks. “I’m sorry I’ve been so distant.”
“Your dad died. You get a pass. Maybe a few of them.” I laid back and drew her into my side. She curled around, her head on my shoulder, her hand over my heart. “Can I come to the funeral with you tomorrow?”
Her lips skimmed my chest. “Yes.” She took a deep breath that gave me pause.
“If you don’t tell me what’s still eating you, Trent will give us Communication 101 lessons.”
“What textbook?” Maggie murmured. The movement of her lips across my skin caused a shiver to run through me.
“His brain.”
Maggie giggled and shifted closer, stretching one leg across me. I let the silence seep over us while I waited for her to find the words. “Do you want the LA job?”
I rubbed her back in slow circles and considered tiptoeing around the topic. But I remembered Jim’s words about communication and facing the hard conversations head-on. I remembered what I vowed about my relationship with Maggie from now on. “I do. I want the job.”
“What would that mean for you and me? I get that you love me, and I love you. But we both love our jobs. And I love this town.”
“Long-distance?” I held my breath.
“For how long?”
“Six months to a year.” I rubbed my forehead and then jumped into the hard bit. “Possibly longer. Possibly until I have enough clout to use the studio I built here or get offered opportunities in New York.”
Maggie drew figure eights on my chest. “Six months to a year.”
“Possibly longer.” I didn’t want to hide the reality. In six months, if the role looked like it would be more than a year, I didn’t want her to think I wasn’t committed to her.
“What does that look like to you? How would we do that?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. A lot of time on fucking airplanes, I think.” Nothing about the distance appealed to me. But if Maggie wouldn’t leave Little Falls for more than a vacation, I would take what I could get. “Long weekends, vacation time, meeting in the middle for a few hours, whatever we have to do to make it work.”
“You’d do all that?”
“If you say you won’t, I’m turning down the job.”
“I don’t want you to say no because of me.”
I tipped her face up so our gazes locked. “If there’s a choice, I choose you. I mean that with all my heart.”
Tears pooled in her eyes. “When do you have to tell him?”
“I already turned it down, but Jack said I could still change my mind until Monday. He wasn’t going to tell anyone until Monday.” The timing couldn’t be worse. Jim’s funeral was tomorrow, and then I had to call Jack on Monday to tell him to move forward with negotiations or bow out. When I’d called Jack on Friday to turn down the job, Jack had extended the deadline to Monday so I could “have the weekend to be completely sure.” I’d been prepared to turn down the job, and I’d do it again on Monday if she didn’t think we could make long-distance work.
“Take the job.”
“Maggie.” I let frustration leak into my voice. I didn’t want to go back down a road of miscommunication or one of us trying to do what was best for the other instead of what was best for us both.
“We’ll figure it out together, okay? My brain doesn’t want to do it right now. Feels too hard. But if you say yes to the producing job, I’m not going to bail on you, on us.” She crawled along me until we were face-to-face. “Say ‘yes.’”
A slow grin spread across my face. Was it possible I’d get Maggie and the job? What else could we agree on? “You wanna say ‘yes’ too?” I rolled us so I had her pinned to the bed, and I settled between her legs. “Join my team?”
She framed my face with her hands. “You mean, my team, right?”
I brushed my lips against hers. “Our team. I’ll be part of your mayoral team when you win, and you can be part of my songwriting team. My muse is the most important aspect.” I watched her face as she processed my comment.
“Our teams, then,” she whispered. “I love you, Grady.”
When the words circled around us for the second time, I wondered if I’d ever get tired of hearing them.
Months ago, when I’d returned to Little Falls, I’d done so many things wrong. Made so many mistakes. But they’d led us here, somehow. Looking down at her, I tried to solidify this moment, make it one I’d never forget. I’d gotten lucky.
“Where do you see us in five years?” she asked.
“More together and more in love than we are right now.”
A smile spread across her face. “You think that’s possible? To have more?”
No matter what the future held, if I had her in my arms, I knew I’d be doing just fine. “I will never stop trying to be the man you deserve.”
Her face softened, and she stroked my cheek. “Aww, Grady. You already are.” She drew me down, and our lips brushed together. “But I think you’re right. This is only the beginning.”
I couldn’t be more grateful. With that thought in my head, I sought her lips again, deepening the kiss, and I proceeded to show her how great new beginnings could be.