Maybe Now (Maybe #2)(69)

She shrugs. “Day trips are cool. And I could probably go somewhere for a couple of nights, but there’s nowhere around here I haven’t already been. Why?”

“One sec.” I stand up and walk to the living room and grab a pen and spiral notebook off the table. I walk it back to Maggie’s room, feeling Ridge and Warren watching me the whole time. I turn around and smile at them before walking back to Maggie’s bed. I place her bucket list on the spiral notebook. “I think with a little modification, these are all doable.”

Maggie lifts up onto her elbow, curious as to what I’m doing. “What kind of modification?”

I scroll down the list. I stop on Carlsbad Caverns. “What interests you about Carlsbad? The bats or the caves?”

“The caves,” she says. “I’ve seen the bat flights here in Austin a dozen times.”

“Okay,” I say, drawing an open parenthesis next to Carlsbad Caverns on the list. “You could go to the Inner Space Cavern in Georgetown. Probably not nearly as cool as Carlsbad, but it’s definitely a cave.”

Maggie stares at the list for a moment. I’m not sure if she thinks I’m crossing a line by writing on her bucket list. I almost hand her back the list and apologize, but she leans over and points at the Eiffel Tower. “There’s a mock Eiffel Tower in Paris, Texas.”

I smile when she says that, because it means we’re on the same page. I write “Eiffel tower in Paris, Texas” next to number nine.

I scroll the list again with the pen and then pause at number three. See the Northern Lights. “Have you ever heard of the Marfa lights in West Texas?”

Maggie shakes her head.

“Doubt it’s even remotely the same, but I’ve heard you can camp out there and watch them.”

“Interesting,” Maggie says. “Write it down.” I write Marfa lights in parentheses next to Northern Lights. She points to number four. Eat Spaghetti in Italy. “Isn’t there a town somewhere in Texas called Italy?”

“Yeah, but it’s really small. Not even sure they’d have an Italian restaurant, but it’s close to Corsicana, so you could get spaghetti to go and take it to a park in Italy.”

Maggie laughs. “That sounds really pathetic, but definitely doable.”

“What else?” I ask, scrolling the list. She’s already apparently driven a racecar and had a one-night stand, which we’ve successfully avoided discussing. The only thing left that we haven’t modified is Vegas. I point to it with the pen. “There are casinos right outside of Paris, TX. Technically, you could just go there after visiting the fake Eiffel Tower. And maybe you should”—I scratch out two of the zeros—“only lose fifty dollars instead of five grand.”

“There are casinos in Oklahoma?” she asks.

“Huge ones.”

Maggie pulls the list from me and looks it over. She smiles while she reads it, then pulls the notebook and pen from my hands. She places the list on top of the notebook. At the top of the list, it reads, “Things I want to do. Maybe one of these days…”

Maggie scratches out part of the title so that the list reads, “Things I want to do. Maybe Now.”





I was scolded today.

It’s the first time I’ve seen my doctor since she walked out of my hospital room—right before I bailed. The first half of my appointment today was spent apologizing to her and promising to take things more seriously from now on. The second half of my appointment was spent with different specialists. When you have Cystic Fibrosis, your team comes to you in one central location, as it’s not safe to sit in the different waiting rooms for each specialist. It’s one of the things I love about my doctor that I didn’t get the full benefits of while living in San Antonio. I really do feel like my health will be easier to maintain now that I’m back in Austin. I just have to quit letting my frustration over this illness win out over my will. Which is hard, because I’m very easily frustrated.

I’ve been gone most of the day, but when I pull back up to the apartment, I’m surprised to see Ridge’s car here. He’s been staying at Sydney’s the majority of the week. Today is Friday, and I was supposed to move tomorrow, but it’s been pushed back to Sunday. I’m sure Ridge will be happy to have his own bed again.

Or not. I doubt he’s all that upset about spending so much time at Sydney’s.

When I open the living room door, they’re both on the couch. Ridge is holding a book in front of him, his feet propped up on the coffee table. Sydney is leaning against him, looking at the words on the pages as he reads aloud.

Ridge is reading. Out loud.

I stare at them for a moment. He struggles with a word, and Sydney makes him look at her as she sounds it out for him. She’s helping him pronounce the words out loud. It’s such an intimate moment, I want to be anywhere else when I close the door and gain Sydney’s attention. She looks up and then sits up straight, putting a little distance between herself and Ridge. I notice. So does he, because he stops reading and follows Sydney’s gaze until he sees me.

“Hey.” I smile and set my purse on the bar.

“Hi,” Sydney says. “How was the appointment?”

I shrug. “Overall, it was good. But I spent most of it being scolded.” I grab a water out of the refrigerator and then head toward the bedroom I’m staying in. “I deserved it, though.” I walk to my room and close the door. I fall down onto the bed because it’s the only thing in here. There isn’t even a dresser or a TV or a chair. Just me and a bed and a living room I feel slightly uncomfortable in.