Chapter 27
RYAN
When Maggie had fallen asleep last night, I’d been grateful she’d given me a reprieve in having to answer that fucking question she’d asked. A question that didn’t really have a right answer. Had I meant to kiss her like that?
No.
But if I’d told her that, she would’ve asked why I’d done it, then. That was where the tricky part came in. Sure, I knew why I’d done it, but I couldn’t exactly tell her it had happened that way because I hadn’t even tried to stop myself.
I’d stayed up half the night trying to come up with an acceptable answer that wouldn’t put either of us in an awkward position, but here was the kicker. I also didn’t want her to think I didn’t want her. I just couldn’t tell her that I did.
By the time I’d finally drifted off to sleep, I’d been no closer to an answer than I was right now, staring at the living room that suddenly looked like it belonged to an old-timey police detective.
Maggie had woken up at the crack of dawn, refreshed after her full night’s sleep, and started carrying all sorts of papers, books, and photographs from the attic and her grandfather’s old study.
Hyper-focused on solving the mystery, she was bent over the small dining table, scanning through document after document.
Whenever she found one that might merely even mention Viola, whether specifically or even just a woman or spouse in general, it went on one pile while the others were discarded on the chair.
I blew out a slow breath through my nose as I watched her, tying my shoelaces at the same time. “We need to finalize the vendors, Maggie. The more we can get done today, the sooner we can go back to the city.”
“So you go,” she said without even looking up at me. “I’ll focus on finding Viola.”
“The mere mention of her on paper won’t necessarily mean anything. You do know that, right? Those pictures were taken over seventy years ago. There might not even be a full paper trail at all anymore. Plus, if no one has known about her until now, it can wait another day.”
“That’s what I thought when we left here weeks ago,” she murmured, straightening up with a stapled pile of papers in her hands. “I need to at least find some actual clues to follow while we’re here, Ryan. As soon as we leave again, I just know this will go straight to the backburner.”
“For a reason.”
“Go.” She finally looked up and pointed at the door. “I’ll be fine. If a ghost appears, maybe they’ll even be able to help me.”
I laughed. “I never should’ve gotten you going on this whole hauntings and ghost thing. I’m starting to think you care more about that than your own wedding.”
“Then you’re starting to think right.” She winked and dropped the stack of papers on the chair, exhaling a heavy breath as she finally met my gaze. “I thought I might’ve found something, but nope. Those were just registration papers for a company that doesn’t even exist anymore.”
I pushed up from the couch. “Okay, well, good luck, but I’m going to go find our vendors before your father has a coronary.”
“I’ll call you if I find a secret tunnel that ends in a shrine to her.”
“Please don’t.”
“Spoilsport,” she muttered, pulling out a chair and sitting down as she reached for yet another stack of papers.
I waited for a minute, trying to see if she was going to change her mind about staying behind, but when she leaned back on the chair, I realized she was serious. Maggie Pembroke was more interested in solving in a seventy-year-old mystery than being involved in her own wedding arrangements.
Odd, for someone who was so insistent that she wants control, but okay.
Sighing, I grabbed my keys and left her to it, driving to a bakery one town over. I’d found it online last night and I knew what Maggie wanted for the cake. If this place’s website was anything to go by, they would be up for the challenge.
Still, when I walked in, I was ready to be met with a heavy dose of skepticism as I explained what I wanted. The woman behind the counter listened carefully, lighting up when I mentioned the bride had requested wild colors and flavors.
“Oh, this is fun.” She clapped her hands a few times, grinning when she lifted her gaze back to mine. “Something unconventional for a change. You have no idea how many white vanilla cakes I make.”
“Uh, okay.” Surprised by her enthusiasm, I studied the album she’d pushed toward me of what would be possible, flavor combinations and colors she’d tried before. “Lemon and blackberry. Is that good?”
“It’s divine.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it,” I murmured, turning to the next page. “Right, let’s do that with dark chocolate and salted caramel for the next tier.”
She beamed at me. “That’s an excellent choice. I’d recommend pistachio-raspberry for the final tier. It’ll be incredible.”
“I trust your judgment.”
After filling out the necessary forms, I left the bakery, praying like never before that I hadn’t just made a giant mistake, but the baker had great reviews. At this point, I was just going to have to hope they hadn’t only come from her friends and family.
I strode across the parking lot to my car, already pulling out my phone again to check the next item on my to-do list, but a thrift store on the other side of the lot caught my eye before I’d even clicked into the list. Specifically, a yellow dress hanging in the window.
Slowly sliding my phone back into my pocket, I walked straight past my car, finally understanding what it felt like to be a moth seeing a flame. That dress was exactly what Maggie had described that night on the train, butter yellow and vintage, with a soft, flowing silk skirt and a fitted top.
Tiny buttons covered in white and gold silk ran down the back. The little card in front of it claimed that the dress had been designed in the 1950s. A smile spread on my lips and I pushed open the door, ignoring the tinkling bell and heading directly to the counter.
While I told the shopkeeper that I wanted the dress and waited for her to slide it into a protective garment bag, I got the distinct feeling that I’d lost my mind, but I ignored that too.
If Maggie wanted to burn the damn dress if it wasn’t what she wanted, she could do it, but I was feeling pretty darn proud of myself for finding exactly what she’d said she wanted.
When I got back to the cottage, she was sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by boxes. She’d found more papers and books, it seemed, and she’d pulled her hair up into a super messy bun that looked like it was being held by a wish and a prayer, but fuck.
She’s still gorgeous.
I sighed, quickly holding the garment bag in front of me when she looked up and arched an eyebrow at me. “What did you do, Thayer?”
“I found something I thought you might like.”
She stood up, curiously drifting closer as I unzipped the bag. Once it was open, I pulled the protective covering away and laid the dress out on my arms, smirking when I realized she was speechless. For once in her life, Maggie Pembroke was just staring, not capable of uttering a single sound.
“Where did you get that?” she whispered, finally glancing back up at me with wide eyes. “It looks exactly like I…”
“Like you described,” I finished for her a second after she’d trailed off, handing over the dress and sliding my hands into my pockets. “That’s why I bought it. I saw it hanging in a thrift store when I went to order the cake.”
“You remembered?” she asked, her voice still hushed with awe. “I mentioned this to you one time.”
“Yeah, I know, but I have a pretty decent memory and just one beer isn’t enough to change that.”
“I can’t believe you remembered.” Her gaze dropped back to the dress and she dragged her fingertips across the silk slowly, like she was revering it. “Ryan…”
“Don’t make it weird,” I said when she trailed off again. “It’s nothing. I literally saw it in the window when I was walking back to my car and I thought you might like it. That’s all.”
The look she gave me made my brain rearrange itself, a smile spreading on her lips so soft and full of wonder that for a second, I almost made it weird.
“We’re not engaged,” she blurted quietly, thankfully saving me from myself. “Daniel and I. We’re not engaged anymore.”
I frowned. “What the hell are you talking about?”
She toyed with the neckline of the dress, averting her gaze from mine as a pink flush climbed up the sides of her cheeks.
“I’m giving my parents a wedding and Daniel said he’ll show up if I’m actually going through with it, but he doesn’t consider us engaged, so I honestly don’t know if I’m getting married or if I’m just wasting everyone’s time. ”
Just as my eyes started narrowing, she looked up at me again and my annoyance instantly crashed and burned. “Then you remembered this.”
“Of course, I remembered it. It was the only normal part of your dream wedding.”
“A vintage yellow dress is normal?”
I shrugged. “It’s more normal than a carnival, a haunted church, and a graveyard.”
She let out a quiet laugh. “Still. You remembered one little thing I said.”
“Seriously, Maggie. It’s not a big deal. I remember a lot of things you say.”
As soon as the words were out, I realized I probably shouldn’t have admitted that, but in the moment, I hadn’t thought anything of it. I hadn’t thought at all, actually, but as her wedding planner, I supposed remembering what she said wasn’t a bad thing.
On the other hand, the way she was suddenly looking at me confirmed that she knew it went deeper than that. She knew I didn’t just remember everything she’d said because I was making mental notes for her wedding.
Daniel had told me weeks ago he didn’t think of them as engaged.
I’d known since then where he stood on the whole thing, but I’d never been sure what Maggie thought.
Little comments she’d made here and there and even some of our arguments had made it pretty clear that she didn’t exactly see him as her fiancé either, but that’d been before we’d started planning another wedding.
I’d known she’d had to talk to him about it again and I’d even known they’d met up before I’d made the appointment for us to view the venue, but ever since, I’d just sort of figured they were back on. She still wasn’t wearing the ring again, but we were here to plan their wedding, for fuck’s sake.
Obviously, I’d thought they were engaged. Or re-engaged. Or whatever the appropriate terminology was, but now?
My thoughts spun out as I stared into those hazel eyes that’d been haunting my dreams, the tension I’d been pretending not to feel suddenly snapping clean in half. Maggie dropped the dress and crossed the space between us, her arms winding around my neck at the same time I grabbed her hips.
I tugged her to me, every sensible thought I’d had about staying away from her vanishing the second her mouth met mine. We kissed like we’d been trying not to for weeks, which, in my case at least, was a little too true.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured when she started pulling away.
“Yeah, me too.”
But before either of us let go, we were kissing again, though I had no idea how it’d happened. All I knew was that right now, she didn’t belong to anyone else, but it sure as shit felt like she belonged to me.