Round Eighteen
MAGGIE
I stride up Billy’s porch steps at six on the dot, sweaty from rushing around, and starving since I haven’t eaten since…
I don’t even know. Breakfast, maybe. Bringing my hand up, I prepare to knock, but before I get the chance, the front door swings wide and the cutest toothless little boy ever jumps into view.
“Hi, Maggie!” He bounds through the door and latches onto my hand with enough enthusiasm to make me forget my empty stomach.
He entwines our fingers and wraps his other arm around my torso in a grunting, squeezing hug.
Extra grunts. Extra squeezes. “You’ve been gone all day, huh?
” He pulls back far enough to look into my eyes, tipping his head back so his moppy hair flops with the movement.
“I went next door when I got home from school to see if you were around, but you weren’t. ”
“I was working.” I lower into a crouch and cup his sweet, still-kinda-chubby cheek in my palm. “I had a big day today. I have big days every day, actually.” My brows pinch closer as that old, constant friend—anxiety—tickles my stomach.
Always working. Always one foot in front of the other.
“But I’m excited to be here now.”
“You wanna make mini pizzas for dinner again?” Dirt streaks his face, and a section of his hair stands tall, while all the rest flops. His shirt is stretched at the collar, and his pants… are the white, full-length kind kids wear to karate class.
He’s adorable, even when he’s messy.
“We have enough ingredients, we can make pizzas again, and I know how to do it, so I could cook, and you could sit down for a bit. When my dad works all day, sometimes he likes to sit on the couch and stare at the wall for a while.”
I choke out a soft laugh, my breath feathering across his face and notching his smile higher.
“Have you already started making the pizzas?”
“No. But all the stuff is in the fridge, and it won’t take long.”
“Well… do you like pasta?”
His eyes grow impossibly wide. “Yuh! I like pasta. But not the pasta with fishy stuff in it.”
“What about creamy pasta with chicken?”
He licks his lips, like a big goofball puppy dog would. “I love cream, I love chicken, and I love pasta!” But then his smile drops. “I don’t know how to make that, though. And Dad probably won’t let me, since pasta gets hot.”
“How about we cook it together? I’m starrrving.
” I tickle his ribs and earn a peeling, squealing laugh.
“Pasta’s always the best for my tummy when I’m super hungry, and it doesn’t take long to cook.
I could teach you, and there would probably even be leftovers, so your dad can take some to work tomorrow. ”
“Yes! Okay!” He bobs his head with frenzied movements. “I wanna do that.”
“Alright.” Straightening my sore legs, I take his hand again and glance through the still-open door. “Should we go in? Your dad’s probably waiting for me.”
“Yuh!” He spins on his heels and takes off, his hand still wrapped around mine, so my shoulder jerks and my breath remains somewhere back on the porch.
“He’s in his room!” Jeremy slingshots me toward the stairs and stays back only long enough to close the front door.
Dashing up behind me, he pushes with his hands on the small of my back.
“He said he was getting dressed for his meeting. But that I should send you up as soon as you get here. Dad!”
“Yeah.” Billy’s low, grumbling voice filters along the second-story hall, then around to weave its way down the stairs. “In my room.”
“Maggie’s here, Dad!” Jeremy herds me up the steps and to the right as soon as we hit the landing. “She’s gonna teach me how to cook pasta for dinner.” He lobs me across the threshold and dashes around to look his father up and down.
His shirtless father…
His shirtless father who wears jeans only, and socks, but no shoes. With wet hair, the ends standing in different directions, and eyes that burn straight into my soul.
Abs!
“Uh…”
“Hey. You’re here.” Billy turns from the mirror and shows off two different shirts, both still on hangers. The olive Henley I already mentioned today, and a white one. Same size, same design, same fit. Just a different color. “Which one?”
Pecs.
You should wear the pecs.
I should wear the pecs.
“Magnolia?” He wanders closer and clicks his fingers in front of my face. “Hello?”
“Hmm?”
His lips quirk up on one side. “Shirt? You said the green would make my eyes pop, but I sometimes get compliments on the white.” He shakes the pair in front of me. “White makes my tan more tan, and sometimes, in the right light, you can kinda see my ink through the fabric.
“Ink.” Am I a dopey puppy, too? “You have ink right there on your…” I swallow. And still, my throat remains desert dry. “Right there on your chest.”
“Yeah.” He inches closer and brings his eyes down to my level. “I do. Which shirt should I wear?”
“The, uh…” I have no thoughts. My thoughts have abandoned me. “The—”
“I like the green, Dad.” Jeremy muscles his way between us and snatches the olive shirt from its hanger. “Looks good.” He tosses it at his father and spins to face me. “What kinda ingredients do we need for dinner? If you want, we can go downstairs together and get them out.”
“Go have a shower, buddy.” Billy sets his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder and moves him three full feet to the right.
“Daily showers are important, and you wouldn’t make Maggie smell your stinky butt all night, right?
” He flashes an uncharacteristic grin, one that shows teeth and maybe even puts a twinkle in his eyes. “He’s gonna go have a shower.”
“But Dad—”
“Right now.” He pushes his son and reclaims the space we lost. His chest is just… right there! “Did you, uh…” His lips curl into a grin. “Have a good day?”
“Yeah, I—”
“Dad!” Jeremy bangs his fist on the doorframe.
I startle and glance over my shoulder at the boy who has already stripped his top half bare.
“I need help to start the shower.” He grins much the same way his father does, but with fewer teeth, and a smudge around his lips that could either be chocolate… or dirt. “Or maybe Maggie could help?”
“I’ll do it.” Billy tosses the white shirt onto his bed and drags the olive shirt over his head. He grips Jeremy’s shoulder and marches him along the hall. “You’re being a punk,” he grumbles. “I know what you’re doing, boy. You’re not sneaky at all.”
My phone vibrates in my back pocket, followed by a single chiming ding.
Frowning, now that my brain is back and my stomach grumbles mercilessly, I take the device out and unlock the screen to find a text from Devina.
In my car and on the way. He’s still coming, right? Driving for an entire hour only to be stood up would be humiliating. Looking for a little encouragement…
Smiling, I wander to the edge of Billy’s bed and sit, then I tap out a response with the sound of two Caster boys bickering in the bathroom.
Maggie:
He’s still coming. I’m literally inside his house right now. He’s nervous, too, so don’t stress so much.
Devina:
He’s nervous?? Are you sure?
Maggie:
I’m definitely sure. He was deciding between two shirts when I arrived. He wants to impress you, so he wasn’t sure if he should wear green to emphasize his eyes, or white to show off his chest a little more.
I hit send and cough out a soft laugh.
Maggie:
He went with the green, so maybe you could mention his chest too…
ya know, if you’re impressed by it. He’ll meet you at Picnic Point at seven, and he’s bringing an entire basket of delicious goodies.
Be patient with him though, okay? He’s rusty as hell at this dating thing, and he’s a little rough around the edges.
“You are eight years old!” Billy snaps in the bathroom. “You don’t need to concern yourself with that stuff! You just need to do your homework and make it through another ten years without me or Ramone having to arrest you.”
I snort.
Maggie:
I give him a tough time sometimes, but he’s a really good dad, and according to everyone else in town, he’s a really good friend, too.
Well, not to me. But I ditched Plainview twenty-five years ago, so I suppose I no longer count.
Maggie:
Drive safe. I’ll have Billy out his front door in time to meet you at seven. I sincerely hope you have a nice evening. I’ll make contact tomorrow to talk it through if you’d like to discuss anything. I’ve got my fingers crossed for you guys.
“Who are you texting?”
I startle and glance up to find Billy in his doorway, his eyes trained on the phone in my hands. His chest does look good in the green. His chest looks good—always.
His brows come up in question. “I figure, since you’re working right now, you probably shouldn’t be having personal conversations. Is that unreasonable?”
“Firstly.” I lock my phone and push off his bed.
“Yeah, that’s unreasonable. It’s also controlling and rude.
Secondly,” I stroll closer. “I was texting Devina, so that makes it professional, not personal. She was nervous, so I wanted to assure her that everything is as it should be, and that you would be at Picnic Point at seven on the dot. Being late is also rude.”
His eyes drop to my lips. Hungry and demanding. Shamelessly staring.
“Billy…”
“I don’t wanna go on these dates.” He brings his intense gaze up again. “Cancel them, Magnolia.”
“No, I—”
He hooks his finger in the hem of my shirt and drags me a step closer. “You can’t possibly tell me you’re not curious.”
“C-curious? About what?”
“About me.” He licks his lips. He’s the wolf, and I’m in big trouble.
“I’m not trying to be a prick anymore. I’m not trying to be a jackass.
I’m not trying to piss you off. I just want us to speak the truth, because you left town twenty-five years ago, and then it took another four years for me to accept that you were never coming back.
Now you’re here, and every time we talk, we end up in an argument before I get to say the things I actually wanna say. ”
“W-what do you wanna say?” Stop stammering!