Chapter 11
Chapter
Eleven
Ewan
Rowdy and I take our lunches from the Bluejay Cafe to go. Wise move, seeing as how many heads turned my way when we walked into the restaurant. Every local in the place knows who I am, and they all have questions rolling around in their heads.
We take our lunch down to the park to watch the parade entries prepare for tonight’s Saint Patrick’s Night parade. People are rushing around in a panic. Others are putting finishing touches on their floats. The high school marching band practices its song.
To honor the day, we’ve ordered a huge takeaway box of shepherd’s pie and are stuffing our faces.
We follow that with a pint of Guinness from Magpie, the favored local bar and fine dining restaurant up near the lodges.
For today, Magpie has set up a mobile truck to serve drinks and small bites for the parade and the night bazaar that follows.
“I missed this,” Rowdy says.
“Me too.”
After a long pause, he says, “You shouldn’t have stayed away so long. That was shitty.”
I take a swig of my beer and nod my head. “I know. And I’m sorry.”
Rowdy says, “I don’t come down on you too hard, most of the time.
I’m grateful for your service, and that was maybe the right choice to give you some direction.
But, man. When a woman you’re married to is still a teenager and says she doesn’t want to see your face again, at some point you gotta look at that and say, ‘Shit, that was a youthful temper tantrum, and I should try harder to work it out.’”
Rowdy’s been a good friend, and I’ve been there for him, either.
“I hurt a lot of people by leaving the way I did,” I acknowledge. “I wish I could take it all back. I thought I was supposed to stay out of her way. And when I did, it was easier to just not work on my shit.”
Rowdy claps my shoulder. “Well, you’re still young, and there’s time. Unless you decide to take off again. Then I’m not sure I can forgive you for getting her hopes up.”
“She has her hopes up?”
Please be true, I think silently.
“I swear to god. If you hurt her again…” Rowdy’s meaty hand squeezes my shoulder.
I turn to look at my friend and say with the utmost sincerity. “I’m not leaving. Wherever she is, that’s where I’m going to be.”
Rowdy lets go of my shoulder and picks up his sandwich.“Are you sure you’re ready for that?”
“I’m not saying I’m perfect, but I’m ready,” I say.
Rowdy and I spend the rest of the afternoon talking and catching up. He occasionally checked on me over the years, and I never bothered to return the favor. He’s been a good friend, and I’ve only been focused on myself all this time.
When I get back to the house, Maddie is waiting for me on the porch, dressed in a green T-shirt, sparkly mini skirt, and green striped knee socks.
She looks ridiculous.
“Cute outfit.”
“Thanks, neighbor.” The words have a sharp edge to them, and I notice she’s got her arms crossed over her chest.
“Neighbor,” I repeat.
“Yeah. When were you going to tell me you fucking bought the house across the street?”
Busted.
“And what was the point of hiding it from me?”
“I didn’t know how you’d take it. But the opportunity came up, and I took it. I was waiting for the right time, but then you got sick…”
She bounds down the steps, but I catch her arm before she breezes by me. “Where are you going?”
“To the parade! I almost forgot what day it is!”
“Don’t you think we should talk?”
“Nope. I don’t talk to liars.”
“I’m not a liar.”
“No, just a stalker who leaves out major details.”
I earned that.
“Maddie, I’m sorry.”
“I have to go. The sun is setting, and the parade is going to start soon.”
“I think you still might be contagious.”
“I’ll wear a mask,” she says.
“You’re not strong enough.”
“Piffle.”
“Maddie.”
“I’m bored! I need to get out of this house, and I need to get away from you! I don’t know who you are anymore! You used to tell me everything.”
Pascal sits at her feet like he’s waiting to see what I’ll do next.
“You want out of this house?”
“Yes,” she says.
“Fine. Mask up. But Pascal and I are going with you so we can talk on the way there. I don’t trust that you have the energy for this.”
She grumbles, but grudgingly acquiesces.
On the way to the parade, I tell her everything. About how my boss basically forced me to take a vacation in Songbird Ridge. About how I stayed in the cabin up until her first episode on Valentine’s Day. About how I was going to try to apologize to her that night, and everything fell apart.
She listens without interrupting.
We make our way to Main Street and sit together on the curb, away from where our friends are sitting, so that we can talk without being overheard.
The parade begins with a huge float shaped like a cloud, a rainbow, and a pot of gold — all constructed from tissue paper and glowing with lights within.
The grand marshal is last year’s Dogwood Festival queen, and I realize I don’t even know her name because I barely know who anybody is in this town anymore.
“I heard you came to see me during the pandemic, but then you chickened out and didn’t talk to me,” Maddie says during a lull in the noise.
“That was wrong, and I’m sorry. I wanted to make sure you were healthy and safe. You looked … better than ever. And my stupid ass thought you were thriving without me. So I stayed away.”
Maddie draws her knees up to her chin and rests her forehead there. She lets out a big sigh, then turns to me.
“Ewan, I wasn’t okay. Inside, I was freaking out. Nobody was okay. It messed us all up. And I’m sorry that I didn’t text you either. That was me being resentful and stubborn.”
I didn’t come back to my hometown to hear an apology from Maddie. I want to say as much, but the high school marching band just started playing a U2 song, extremely loudly and with lots of brass.
“I’m sorry, too,” I mouth.
Maddie dabs at her eyes with the meat of her palm, her cheeks blazing.
Then, she reaches for my hand.
There’s that damn hope again, rearing its head.
“So, show me your house.”
Maddie has held on to my hand the whole walk back to our street. I’m watching her like a hawk to make sure she’s not short of breath or feeling ill.
“You want to see my house?”
She nods. “I want to see where you’ve been watching my every move from.”
Once inside my house, she kicks off her shoes and looks around at the bare white walls, basic showroom furniture.
“It’s a lot bigger than mine,” she says.
“I thought it would be nice to have a place big enough…”
She turns to me. “Big enough for what?”
I stare at her.
“Sh-show me the bedrooms,” she says.
I take her hand and lead her to the primary bedroom.
It’s a risky business. I should take her to the guest room so she doesn’t get the wrong message.
But my feet take me to my room. What can I do about it?
I set her down next to the bed, and she sits.
I kneel in front of her. She reaches down and runs a hand through my hair.
We share a charged silence amid a stare-down that lasts nearly half a minute.
My hand is on her leg, remembering the curve of her calf. It’s slightly thicker than it used to be. She’s slightly thicker everywhere. And I’m salivating.
“I wish we’d have talked sooner,” she says.
“Me too. I just didn’t want to upset you.”
Maddie shakes her head. “Ewan, I’m not a stick of dynamite. I can handle uncomfortable conversations without blowing up.”
“I know you’re not. I fucked up.”
She breaks my heart by closing her eyes and saying, “So did I. And I was so lonely, Ewan.”
A tear escapes from the inside corner of her eye and falls on her cheek.
I could go down the laundry list of reasons why I did what I did. Why I never texted, never called, and likewise never filed for divorce. But I don’t give a shit about any of that.
“Don’t cry, Maddie. I can’t take it.”
“What do you want from me, Ewan?”
My hand slides upward, over the back of her knee, and I take a handful of her soft thigh. The ridiculous green miniskirt binds her legs together, and I have to fight the urge to rip it to shreds. The simmering need to touch her is at a slow boil.
“Ewan, what are you doing?”
She gasps as I pull her leg to the side and kiss her soft skin inside her thigh. “Keeping you in bed so you rest, now.”
“You can’t kiss me. I might still be contagious.”
With as much as I’ve been hovering over her and sleeping in her bed, I’ve definitely caught something by now if she is.
“I won’t kiss you then.”
I drag my lips over the inside of her thigh again. Maddie sighs. I swear to god, I might die of relief, knowing we still have this fire between us.
Her skin is so soft and smells like citrus, like the same fruity soap she used to use back in the day.
Memories of our first time together come roaring back, but one by one, they are replaced with the present. We were both practically still kids back then, just turned 18.
It feels like we’ve lived a hundred lives since then.