Chapter 14 - Maren
Maren
By the time I got the girls to pick out pajamas that weren’t somehow “too scratchy” or “too cold,” my phone was buzzing on the nightstand.
Liv’s name flashed on the screen. I checked the clock—seven-thirty.
Right on schedule. She always called around this time, after dinner, before her nightly skincare ceremony.
I answered with a whisper, balancing the phone between my shoulder and ear while wrestling Emma’s hair into something resembling a braid. “Hey, sorry. I’m neck deep in bedtime trials and tribulations.”
“How’s the job going?” Liv asked, totally oblivious. Her tone was casual, but the question hit harder than it should have.
“Oh. You know. It’s… good. Great. Really great.” I winced, hating myself for lying to her. Not about work being great, but Liv and I had been through enough that the mere omission of my, uh, extra-curricular activities was a blatant betrayal.
“You were more convincing telling those kids at the orphanage where we volunteered that Santa Claus is real.”
“I mean it’s a lot,” I said, forcing a smile even though she’d never see it. “But the kids are sweet. And Ethan’s, um, nice. Very professional and nice.”
“Professional?” she repeated, suspiciously slow.
“Yeah,” I said too brightly. “Like, very organized and always making an effort to make sure our calendars are synced up.”
Liv snorted. “You hate people who live and die by stringent calendar rules.”
“Do I? I don’t think I ever said that.” I cleared my throat in a lame attempt to get rid of the nagging squeak that would give me away.
“Yeah, you did, actually. Sophomore year of college. I remember, because it was about me.”
I waved Emma and Sadie into their beds, then set up their night light before flicking off the main one. It was my good fortune that they acknowledged I was on a call, and didn’t whine about a story. I was let off with a simple kiss blown to each of them, and I padded out of the room.
“Okay,” I said, once I was safely outside the danger zone. “Maybe I did say that. But it’s neither here nor there. It’s not the same thing.”
“Uh-huh.” I could practically hear her eye-roll. “You sound… weird. What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on!” I laughed, too loudly. Almost manic. I cleared my throat again, mind spinning with how I would pull this back. “I’m just tired. You know how it is. Full house, holiday madness, kids who get up to the craziest shit when I’m not looking.”
“Maren.”
“Liv.” I said her name the same way she said mine, stalling for time. Then I cut in before she could corner me. “Anyway, enough about me. How’s cohabitation going with Jonathan the Great? Is he still grossing you out with his beard trimmings in the bathroom sink?”
My intention was to focus on her, but the mention of his beard immediately made me think of Ethan. The way his stubble grazed my skin when he kissed me. How it left me tender and more sensitive to every touch after that.
“Don’t start,” she groaned, bringing me back to the present moment with her. “We’ve had three arguments this week about hair hygiene.”
“Classic.” I smiled, grateful for the shift. I slipped into my bedroom and shut the door softly. “Let me guess, you’re still the unreasonable one for bringing it up.”
“Exactly.”
A small knock sounded at my door before my body could register that I’d sat down on my bed at all. Sadie peeked her head in, grinning, toothpaste foam dotting her chin.
“I had to brush again,” she said. “Can you tuck me in again after I rinse?”
“Perfect timing,” I said, covering the phone’s mic. “I’ll be right there, okay?”
She nodded and disappeared down the hall.
“Duty calls. Again,” I said into the phone, standing. “But I want the full Jonathan update tomorrow.”
“Fine. But I’m not done with you, Calloway.”
“You never are.” I hung up before she could say anything else and followed the sound of giggling down the hall.
Emma was still in bed, holding out her stuffed bunny like a nightly offering. “He wants a kiss too,” she announced.
I kissed both of their foreheads and the bunny’s lopsided ear for good measure. “There. All equally loved.”
Sadie giggled. “Even the bunny?”
“Especially the bunny.”
They settled under the blankets, whispering to each other as I dimmed the light again. For a second, I just stood there, watching them. Tiny forms in the glow of the night-light. And I wondered when the house had started to feel like something I’d miss.
Will’s door was cracked open, the glow from his lamp spilling out into the hallway. I knocked softly.
“Still up?”
His voice came back muffled. “Not playing games, I promise.”
I stepped in. He was sitting up against the headboard, no video games, hair sticking up in tired tufts.
“Good,” I said, folding my arms. “Because I was ready to confiscate that thing and use it as a coaster.”
He smiled, barely. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” I said, moving closer. I perched on the edge of his bed, sensing this was one of those serious twelve-year-old questions that felt like life or death.
He hesitated, fidgeting with his blanket. “If you… you know, liked someone. Like, liked them liked them. But they didn’t know, and maybe they didn’t even really know you at all. What would you do?”
My brain short-circuited, immediately flashing to a collage of terrible choices that involved me liking three men who didn’t even really know me.
“I, uh— What makes you ask that?” I managed, trying to keep my voice even.
He shrugged, cheeks coloring. “No reason.”
My stomach did a slow, guilty flip. Oh, God. What if he’d noticed something? Kids see everything.
“Is this a general question,” I said carefully, “or do you want to know something in particular about… me?”
Will’s head snapped up. “What? No. I just— There’s this girl at school. Casey.” He groaned, pulling the blanket up to cover most of his face. “Forget it.”
I exhaled, equal parts relieved and mortified. “Okay, okay, let’s not forget it just yet. Tell me about this Casey.”
He couldn’t look at me, “I don’t know if she knows I like her. Or if she likes me. Or if she even knows I exist.”
“That’s an awful lot of not knowing,” I said softly, holding back a smile. To be that young and innocent again. I remembered my first uncertain forays into romance and how good those butterflies always felt.
In fact, nothing much had changed in twenty years of doing the dance.
He cracked a smile, relaxing a little. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want her to think I’m dumb.”
“She won’t,” I told him. “The best thing you can do is just be honest. Tell her how you feel, even if it’s scary. And whatever happens—whether she likes you back or not—you’ve still got people who love you. You’ll be okay.”
Will nodded, looking thoughtful. “You really think so?”
“I know so.”
His grin was small but real. “Thanks, Maren.”
“Anytime.” I stood and turned out the light. “Now sleep. Or at least pretend to.”
“Night,” he mumbled.
Back in the hallway, I leaned against the wall for a second, smiling to myself. He’d probably forget the conversation by morning. But I wouldn’t. Not for a very long time.
Because somewhere between giving him advice and hearing it out loud, something had shifted in me.
I’d told him to be honest. To go for what he wanted, even if it meant not getting it.
Maybe it was time I did the same.
I grabbed my purse from the hook by the door and headed out.
*
Neiman Marcus looked different after hours.
The escalators were still, the mannequins locked behind dark glass displays, and the Christmas playlist that had looped all afternoon had finally gone silent.
Without the crowds, the whole place felt like it was holding its breath.
My boots echoed softly against the tiled floor as I made my way past abandoned counters and a half-finished tree display.
Everywhere I looked, there were traces of the life I thought I wanted. Structured, predictable, safe. The version of me who used to color-code lesson plans and meal prep on Sundays would’ve hated the emptiness here. She would’ve said it felt lonely. But tonight, the quiet felt like permission.
A few weeks ago, I was supposed to be rebuilding. Fixing what fell apart. Getting my life “back on track.” That was the plan.
Except—since then—nothing about me had stayed on track. I wasn’t even sure I wanted that track anymore.
I told myself I was just coming here to check on progress. Make sure Ethan, Miles, and Adrian hadn’t worked themselves into the ground. But the truth buzzed under my skin, restless and hot. I wanted to see them for reasons other than a wellness check.
I followed the faint hum of a drill coming from the shoe department in the back of the store, weaving through racks of velvet ottomans and fake snow-covered garlands. The air smelled like pine and paint and whatever faint cologne had rubbed off on one of the wool coats still hanging nearby.
When I found Adrian, he was half-crouched on a ladder, adjusting a strand of lights above a sprawling winter display. Paper snowflakes were suspended in midair like they were caught between falling and floating.
“Hi,” I said softly.
He looked down, startled, then grinned. “You’re either lost or haunting me. Either way, I’ll take it.”
I walked closer, pretending to inspect the setup. “Haunting’s more my speed. You’re missing a snowflake, by the way.”
He glanced at the ceiling, then back at me. “Guess you’ll have to help me fix it.”
The words were light, but there was that familiar gleam in his eyes, the one that always seemed to find me, even when I wasn’t looking for him. I didn’t realize how close I’d gotten until he climbed down the ladder and we were standing a breath apart.
“When do you think you guys will be heading home?” I didn’t care, but needed something to say so my lips would be otherwise engaged, and I could eliminate the threat to just lunge forward and kiss him.