Chapter 65
SLOANE
Maggie's truck pulls in and I can tell from the way she gets out of it that her diner visit was a disaster.
"Hey." I walk up to her. "How are you? How was —" I stop, because she looks utterly mortified. "How was your day?"
She shakes her head. "Which part?" she says.
"The part where the entire diner went silent when I walked in?
The part where Ruthie openly laid out our situation for everyone to hear?
The part where three people I went to high school with and haven't spoken to in fifteen years suddenly sent me friend requests?
Or the part where I told myself I wasn't going to look, and then I looked, and there was my name on a gossip site?
" She shuts the truck door with her hip and leans against it.
"Take your pick. It was a rich and varied day. "
I wince. "Oh, Maggie."
"Ruthie used the word 'committed.'" She says it flatly, staring at the middle distance. "About us. To the regulars." She holds out a slice of cherry pie. "And she asked me to give you this."
I have to bite the inside of my cheek, because she's clearly traumatized and laughing would be the wrong move, but the image of Ruthie deploying the word committed to a counter full of pensioners is almost too much.
"Come here," I say instead, giving her a hug. "Sit down. I'll get you a beer. You look like you've been through a war."
"Only if you'll have one too," she says.
I go in, get two from the fridge and we sit on the porch in the late afternoon sun. Maggie takes a long drink and closes her eyes with a sigh.
"This too shall pass," I say.
She cracks one eye open.
"I'm serious." I clink my bottle against hers.
"Do you know where that came from? It's not from the Bible, even though everyone thinks it is.
It's a Persian fable, supposedly. A king asks his wise men for a sentence that's true in good times and bad, and they give him a ring that says this too shall pass.
" I shrug. "One of the inmates in jail told me that, I don't remember her name.
I thought it was annoying at the time but it seems I'm passing it along. "
Maggie sighs. "It's still happening though."
"I know. I'm not saying it isn't awful right now.
I'm the world expert in this exact thing.
My face is on greeting cards and there were more memes about me than anyone else circulating.
I thought I would never be able to feel normal in public again.
" I look at her. "But it moved on, it always moves on.
The internet has the attention span of a goldfish and people might not forget but they'll stop caring or finding it funny when something more interesting happens to somebody else.
And the important part — the only part that actually matters — is that you didn't do anything wrong. "
Maggie's quiet while she watches Hank. "I'm sorry," she finally says. "I'm sitting here complaining, and this is the second time this has happened to you. And you've basically just been outed to the entire world." She shakes her head. "You've got more to deal with than I do."
"Hey. Well." I lift my bottle. "At least I outed myself. That one's all me. Pure, top-shelf Sloane Archer stupidity — I can't even blame the press for it, I did it with my own thumb."
"Do your parents know?" Maggie asks.
I take a sip. "Yeah. It was always going to get to them, but I thought I might have the time to tell them myself. Turns out one of my cousins told my mom the morning after it happened."
"Have you talked to them?"
"Not yet. My sister called to warn me. She said Mom's 'in shock.
'" I do the little air quotes. "Which, from my mother, could mean anything from genuinely upset to mildly inconvenienced.
And Dad didn't say much, apparently, but Dad never says much.
I've had missed calls and I'll call them back. I'm just bracing myself."
"It's not fair," she says. "You don't even — you said yourself you don't know what you are. And now you've had the whole thing decided for you in public."
"It doesn't matter," I say, draping an arm over her shoulder.
Maggie turns to me. "Of course it does."
"No, listen. It doesn't." I run my fingers through the hair at the back of her neck.
"Sure, I'd have liked to work this one out quietly, in my own time, the way normal people get to.
But the band-aid's off now and I'd rather it be off than spend months too scared to look.
" I take a breath. "And I'll deal with whatever comes because honestly, none of it is the thing that actually matters.
What matters is that I'm crazy about you.
I'm completely, stupidly crazy about you, and I want to be with you, and if the entire internet wants to have an opinion about that, let them.
" I lift my bottle in a little salute. "Fuck what everyone else thinks.
I'm done living for other people's opinions. "
Maggie looks down at her bottle and then back up at me, and there's a wobble at the corner of her mouth she's trying to control. "You're crazy about me," she says.
"I am, and I'm not going anywhere. If you send me away, I'll crash right through that fence again. That should get me at least three years as a repeat offender," I joke.
She sets the bottle down on the boards and her eyes well up. She's laughing at the same time, wiping away her tears. "I believe you," she says. "And I'm crazy about you too. I don't want you to leave."
She leans in and kisses me, slow and certain.
I cup her face, close my eyes, and let myself sink into it, tasting her salty tears on her lips.
With everything bad happening, she's choosing me anyway, and I believe her too.
My eyes sting and the tears come, sliding down my face and meeting hers between us.
When she pulls back she rests her forehead against mine. "I didn't think this was possible today," she says. "But I actually feel a little better."