Maybe Someday(74)

did was look at her.

I smile. “There’s my girl,” I sign as I walk to

her. The fact that I’m somehow able to hide my

guilt seems to ease her concern. She smiles back

and wraps her arms around my neck when I reach

her. I slip my arms around her waist and kiss her

for the first time in two weeks.

God, I’ve missed her. She feels so good. So

familiar.

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She smells good, she tastes good, she is good.

I’ve missed her so damn much. I kiss her cheek

and her chin and her forehead, and I love that I’m

so relieved to have her here. For the past few

days, I began to fear that I wouldn’t have this re-

action the next time I saw her.

“I have to go really bad. Long drive.” She

winces and points to the door behind her, and I

give her another quick kiss. Once she’s inside the

bathroom, I slowly turn back around to gauge

Sydney’s reaction.

I’ve been as upfront and honest with Sydney as

I can possibly be about my feelings for Maggie,

but I know it’s not easy for her to see me with

Maggie. There’s just no way around it. Do I com-

promise my relationship with Maggie to spare

Sydney’s feelings? Or do I compromise Sydney’s

feelings to spare my relationship with Maggie?

Unfortunately, there’s no middle ground. No

right choice. My actions are becoming split dir-

ectly down the middle, just like my heart.

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I face her, and our eyes meet briefly. She refo-

cuses her attention down to the cake in front of

her and inserts candles. When she finishes, she

smiles and looks back up at me. She sees the con-

cern in my expression, so she pats her chest and

makes the “okay” sign with her hand.

She’s reassuring me that she’s fine. I practic-

ally have to pry myself away from her every

night, and then I maul my girlfriend right in front

of her—and she’s reassuring me?

Her patience and understanding with this

whole screwed-up situation should make me

happy, but they have the opposite effect. They

disappoint me, because they make me like her

that much more.

I can’t win for losing.

? ? ?

Oddly enough, Maggie and Sydney seem to be
having fun together in the kitchen, prepping in-

gredients for a pot of chili. I couldn’t hang, so I

retreated to my room and claimed I had a lot of

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work to catch up on. As good as Sydney is with

this, I’m not as skilled. It was awkward for me

every time Maggie would kiss me or sit on my

lap or trail her fingers seductively up my chest.

Which, come to think of it, was a bit odd. She’s

never really all that touchy-feely when we’re

hanging out, so she’s either feeling a tad bit ter-

ritorial, or she and Sydney have already been hit-

ting the Pine-Sol.

Maggie comes into the bedroom just as I’m

shutting the laptop. She kneels down on the edge

of the bed, leans forward, and inches her way to-

ward me. She’s looking up at me with a flirta-

tious smile, so I set the laptop aside and smile

back at her.

She crawls her way up my body until she’s

face-to-face with me, and then she sits back on

her heels, straddling me. She cocks an eyebrow

and tilts her head. “You were checking out her

ass.”

Shit.

I was hoping that moment had come and gone.

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I laugh and cup my hands around Maggie’s

backside and scoot her a little closer. I let go and

bring my hands back around in front of her and

answer her. “I walked out of my room to a rear

end pointed toward my bedroom door. I’m a guy.

Guys notice things like that, unfortunately.” I

kiss her mouth, then pull back.

She’s not smiling. “She’s really nice,” Maggie

signs. “And pretty. And funny. And talented.

And . . .”

The insecurity in her words makes me feel like

a jerk, so I grab her hands and still them. “She’s

not you,” I tell her. “No one can ever be you,

Maggie. Ever.”

She smiles halfheartedly and places her palms

on the sides of my face and slowly runs them

down to my neck. She leans forward and presses

her mouth to mine with so much force I can feel

the fear rolling off of her.

Fear that I put there.

I grab her face and kiss her with everything I

have, doing all I can to erase her worries. The last

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thing this girl needs is something else to stress

her out.

When she breaks apart from me, her features

are still full of every single negative emotion I’ve

spent the past five years helping her drown out.

“Ridge?” She pauses, then drops her eyes