Maybe Someday (Maybe, #1)(37)

Warren climbs inside the car and falls against Maggie. I’m thankful that he was too drunk to sign any of that, because I know that Ridge didn’t understand what he said. I can tell by the confused look Ridge is giving me. He laughs and bends down, lifting Warren’s leg, which is still hanging out of the car. He pushes it inside the car and closes the door, and my mind is still stuck on Warren’s words.

Ridge reaches in front of me and pulls on the handle of the front passenger door, then opens it. I step forward, but the second Ridge’s hand rests against my lower back, I pause.

I glance up at him, and he’s looking straight down at me. His hand remains on my lower back as I force myself to slowly close the gap between myself and the car. The second I begin to lower myself into the seat, his hand slips away, and he waits until I’m all the way inside the car, then closes the door.

I lean my head back into the seat and close my eyes, terrified of what that simple gesture just did to me.

I hear him take his position behind the wheel, and the car cranks, but I continue to keep my eyes closed. I don’t want to look at him. I don’t want to feel what I feel when I look at him. I don’t like how every minute I spend with him, I feel more and more like a Tori.

My phone receives a text, so I’m forced to open my eyes. Ridge is holding his phone, watching me.

Ridge: She doesn’t do this a lot. Probably not even three times a year. She’s been under a lot of stress lately, and she likes to go out. It helps.

Me: I wasn’t judging her.

Ridge: I know. I just wanted you to know she’s not a raging alcoholic like I am.

He winks at me, and I laugh. I glance into the backseat, where Warren is draped across Maggie. They’re both out cold. I turn back around in my seat and text him again.

Me: Thank you for telling me all that earlier. You didn’t have to, and I know you probably didn’t want to, but thank you.

He gives me a sideways glance, then returns his attention to his phone.

Ridge: I’ve never told anyone that story. Not even Brennan. He was probably too young to even remember it.

He sets his phone down and puts the car in reverse, then begins to back out.

Why is it that the only question I wish I could ask him right now is the most inappropriate one? I want to ask him if he’s ever told Maggie, but his answer shouldn’t matter to me. It shouldn’t matter at all, but it does.

He begins to drive, and he reaches down and turns on the radio, which confuses me. He can’t hear it, so I don’t understand why he would care if it was on or off.

But then I realize he didn’t do it for himself.

He turned it on for me.


Ridge

After stopping at a drive-thru for food, we pull up to the apartment complex. I put the car in park.

Me: Take the food up and unlock the door while I wake them up.

She picks up our two drinks and the bag of food. She heads up to the apartment, and I walk to the back door and open it. I shake Warren awake and help him out of the car. Then I wake Maggie up and help her out. She’s still too out of it to walk, so I pick her up and shut the door behind me. I make sure Warren walks ahead of me up the stairs, because I’m not positive he won’t fall down them.

When we make it inside, Warren stumbles to his bedroom, and I walk Maggie into my room. I lay her on the bed and take off her shoes, then her clothes. I pull the covers over her, then head back into the dining room, where Sydney has laid out our food. It’s almost midnight, and we haven’t eaten since lunch. I take a seat in front of her.

Me: So now that you know one of my deep, dark secrets, I want to know one of yours.

We both have our phones out on the table while we eat. She smiles and begins to text me back.

Sydney: You have more than one deep, dark secret?

Me: We’re talking about you right now. If we’re going to be working together, I need to know what I’m getting myself into. Tell me about your family. Any raging alcoholics?

Sydney: No, just raging *s. My father is a lawyer, and he hates that I’m not going to law school. My mother stays home. She’s never worked a day in her life. She’s a great mom, but she’s also one of those perfect moms, you know? Think Leave It to Beaver meets Stepford Wives.

Me: Siblings?

Sydney: Nope. Only child.

Me: I wouldn’t have pegged you as an only child. Nor would I have guessed you were a lawyer’s daughter.

Sydney: Why? Because I’m not pretentious and spoiled?

I smile at her and nod.

Sydney: Well, thanks. I try.

Me: I don’t mean for this to come off as insensitive, but if your father is a lawyer and you still have a relationship with your parents, why did you not call them last week? When you had nowhere to go?

Sydney: The primary thing my mother instilled in me was the fact that she didn’t want me to be her. She had no education and has always been completely dependent on my father. She raised me to be very independent and financially responsible, so I’ve always taken pride in not asking for their help. It’s hard sometimes, especially when I really need their help, but I always get by. I also don’t ask for their help because my father would point out in a not-so-nice way that if I were in law school, he’d be paying for it.

Me: Wait. You’re paying for school on your own? But if you changed your major to prelaw, your father would pay for it?