Chapter 37
September, Toronto
My alarm goes off at six a.m., and that familiar ache in my chest returns—until the hangover kicks in, mercifully drowning it out.
I hit snooze twice before Gabi grumbles beside me. She’s not much of a morning person. The blackout curtains do their job; our room at the Shangri-La stays dark as a cave. Well, my room. Gabi’s hardly slept in hers.
“How’s your head?” she asks, though it’s more of a croak.
“What do you think?”
She groans and immediately starts snoring again. I stare at the ceiling until my alarm goes off a third time, then let it play for a little while before silencing it.
“You’re punishing me for the tequila, aren’t you?” She rolls onto her side, taking the covers with her. “Never again, I swear.”
Last night, like most nights, Gabi and I watched yet another Lifetime movie from the comfort of my bed. There’s no shortage of “mind-numbing cheese,” as she calls it, and Cyber Seduction did not disappoint. It’s kind of become our thing now. Easy. Familiar.
Only this time she had the bright idea to make it a drinking game. With tequila. Because Gabi thinks she’s funny.
Little does she know the joke’s on her.
I sit on the edge of the mattress and flip on the lamp—then flip it right back off. “I’m gonna grab a shower. If my phone rings…”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know.”
I haven’t missed a single call in weeks. Not since the field office couldn’t reach me the day Hannah took a soccer ball to the face. Black eye and a mild concussion. I lost it.
Now I answer everything. Gabi laughs at all the random people I talk to, telemarketers being her favorite. “Just once would you answer as Holden Shaw?”
I even turned my ringer on, but she declared the default chimes “tragically boring” (her favorite phrase), so I swapped it out for “Maggie May” strictly to fuck with her. Now when my phone rings, I get an eye roll.
And a stab to the chest.
I’m brushing my teeth when “Henry” starts up, and yeah, I feel it. Especially today.
Maggie should be here.
I crack the door and poke my head out.
“I’ve got it,” Gabi says, reaching across the bed toward my nightstand. “Probably just a robocaller.”
I nod and close the door, finish brushing, spit.
Leaning over the vanity, I study my face in the mirror. Summer was rough, and it shows.
I’ve hardly picked up a razor since May, and my scruff’s been edging toward a full-blown beard. I’d considered shaving it to get back into character for the premiere but decided to leave it. Maggie liked the scruff. I wonder how she’d feel about a beard.
Maggie, who lives rent-free in my head with no chance of eviction.
I step into the steam-filled shower, water as hot as I can stand, the pressure pounding the back of my neck like penance.
“What about Toronto?” I asked.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, do you?”
Yes, Magnolia, I wanted to scream. Fuck yes, it’s a good idea.
But I didn’t say it. She’d already made up her mind.
And in the end, she was right. Hannah has needed me in ways I never could’ve predicted.
But it doesn’t mean I don’t miss Maggie.
With every goddamn breath.
Gabi’s voice carries to the bathroom as I step out of the shower. I dry off quickly, throw on the hotel robe, and open the door. I find her perched on the back of the chesterfield, her own robe hanging open over her tank top and shorts.
“Robocaller?” I ask.
She looks up. “Maggie.”
“Maggie?” Her name sucks the air from the room. “And you answered my phone. At 6 a.m. Shit.”
Gabi shakes her head. “No. Oh God no. I told her we fell asleep watching a movie.”
Did you tell her we fall asleep watching movies all the time?
She winces. “But I may have outed your Lifetime fetish.”
“How…how is she?”
“Good,” Gabi says. “She sounded good.”
“Just good?”
Morning light spills in through the open curtains, the city below a blur. I watch Gabi’s reflection in the glass as she walks toward me. Slowly, like she needs the time to think.
I brace myself. “What’s going on?”
She leans against the window and twists a lock of long dark hair around her finger. “Holden, Maggie may have given you the wrong impression.”
Little hairs rise on the back of my neck as I search for my voice.
“I think she was trying to make it easier for you. To choose Hannah.” Her arm drops to her side. “I’m not entirely sure. But she wasn’t relieved you guys ended it. She was devastated. That girl loves you. She’s in love with you. Still.”
I turn to face her. “She told you this. Just now, on the phone?”
“No, Holden.” She pulls a book—a worn paperback with dog-eared pages—out of the pocket of her robe and presses it into my hands. “She told everybody.”
Heart Without a Home by Magnolia May.
My breath hitches. There’s no way that’s a coincidence.
Gabi squints at the cover. “Does the title mean something to you?”
“Uh, yeah.” I swallow. “It’s a lyric.”
“From what?”
“You don’t want to know.” I trace Maggie’s name with my thumb. She did it. She actually did it. “How long has it been out?”
“A few weeks, I guess.”
“And you’re just carrying it around in your robe? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’ve gone back and forth on it. I wanted to, but I thought you were doing better. Stupid ringtone aside, I hadn’t heard your Maggie Mixtape in a while, and you seemed…I don’t know. Like maybe you were finally trying to move on?”
And the Oscar goes to…
“Honestly,” she says, “I kind of figured you were watching for it like I was. I was surprised you hadn’t mentioned it.”
I flip through the pages, a strange mix of guilt and pride welling inside me. “You read it?”
“I couldn’t put it down.”
“God, I’m just so damn proud of her.” I open it to the copyright. “She self-published, didn’t she? How’s it doing?”
Gabi grabs my phone off the table and hands it to me. “See for yourself.”
I Google the title, smiling when I see the number of reviews. Holy shit.
“Hang on,” I say, arching a brow at her. “Self-published books don’t just take off like this. What did you do?”
Her shoulders lift in a slight shrug. “I may have posted a pic Hannah took of me reading it by the pool.”
Something loosens in my chest. “That’s, um…really cool, Gabs.”
“This isn’t just a romance novel, Holden. It’s a love letter. To you.” She looks at me, her eyes bright. “You just have to write her back.”
I stare down at the title that’s a little too perfect. That’s how I’ve felt every fucking day since I left. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”
“I think she called because she wanted to come.”
“To Toronto?”
Gabi nods. “That’s what happens at the end. The heroine regrets her decision. Changes her mind.”
“So I fly her in for the premiere? Then what?” I drop the book and my phone on the bed. “Nothing’s changed. I still can’t pop off to Texas on a whim.”
“What if she’s rethinking LA?”
The tiniest flicker of hope ignites, but reality douses it.
She can’t. Not now. Not with Hannah.
I turn back to the window. The sun’s just beginning to clear the rooftops. “She isn’t rethinking LA.”
“How do you know?”
“I have a movie to promote and a little girl to raise,” I say, hands in my pockets, nails biting into my palms. “There’s homework and soccer practice and counseling.
I cook now, as you well know, and do laundry.
So much fucking laundry. It doesn’t matter if I want things to be different—they just aren’t. ”
“You could hire people for that,” she says, and I level her with a look. “But I get why you don’t want to.”
I don’t want to. I promised Cara I’d be present for Hannah, and this is how I’m doing it. I like taking care of her. I think I’m finally getting the hang of it.
Gabi perches on the edge of the bed, digging her toes in the carpet. “At least talk to Maggie, Holden. She obviously called for a reason.”
“What reason did she give you?”
“To wish us luck at the premiere.”
I drag a hand over my jaw. “That’s kind of random, isn’t it? After all this time?”
“Yeah, Einstein. That’s my point.”
“Maggie May” blares from my phone. Gabi rolls her eyes, and I press a hand to my chest.
“Amar,” she says, checking the screen. “You want it?”
“I’ll catch him later.” I sit beside her and lie back, one arm thrown over my face. “I can’t call her, Gabi. Nothing’s changed.”
Hannah’s not ready. And I can’t ask Maggie to wait. She deserves better.
“Okay,” Gabi says, softer than I expected. “Let’s skip the movie tonight. Sleep in our own beds for once.”
“Yeah.”
She stands, and Maggie’s book drops onto my stomach.
“I’ll see you at press.”
I pick it up and stare at the cover. “Yep. See you down there.”