Maybe Someday(88)

felt during the little time she’s been in my world.

Anyone who has made this much of an impact

deserves a proper good-bye.

I stand and walk back into Maggie’s hospital

room. She’s still asleep, so I walk over to her

bed, give her a light kiss on the forehead, and

leave her a note explaining that I’m heading to

the apartment to pack a few things before she’s

released.

Then I leave to go and give the other half of

my heart a proper good-bye.

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? ? ?

I’m outside Sydney’s bedroom door, preparing to
knock. We’ve said everything that needs to be

said and even a lot that probably shouldn’t have

been said, but I can’t not see her one last time be-

fore I go. She’ll be gone by the time I get back

from San Antonio. I have no plans to contact her

after today, so the fact that I know this is

definitely good-bye is pressing on the walls of

my chest, and it f*cking hurts like hell.

If I were to look at my situation from an out-

sider’s point of view, I would be telling myself to

forget about Sydney’s feelings, that my loyalty

should lie solely with Maggie. I would be telling

myself to leave and that Sydney doesn’t deserve

a good-bye, even after all we’ve been through.

Is life really that black-and-white, though? Can

a simple right or wrong define my situation? Do

Sydney’s feelings not count in this mix some-

where despite my loyalty to Maggie? It doesn’t

seem right just to let her go. But it’s unfair to

Maggie not to just let her go.

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I don’t know how I ever got myself into this

mess to begin with, but I know the only way to

end it is to break off all contact with Sydney. I

knew the moment I held her hand last night that

there wasn’t a flaw in the world that could have

stopped my heart from feeling what it was

feeling.

I’m not proud of the fact that Maggie doesn’t

make up all of my heart anymore. I fought it. I

fought it hard, because I didn’t want it to happen.

Now that the fight is finally coming to an end,

I’m not even sure if I’m winning or losing. I’m

not even sure which side I’m rooting for, much

less which side I was on.

I knock lightly on Sydney’s door, then place

my palms flat against the doorframe and look

down, half of me hoping she refuses to open it

and half of me restraining myself from breaking

down the damn door to get to her.

Within seconds, we’re face-to-face for what I

know is the last time. Her blue eyes are wide

with fear and surprise and maybe even a small

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amount of relief when she sees me standing in

front of her. She doesn’t know how to feel about

seeing me here, but her confusion is comforting.

It’s good to know I’m not alone in this, that

we’re both sharing the same mixture of emotions.

We’re in this together.

Sydney and me.

We’re just two completely confused souls,

scared of a much unwanted yet crucial good-bye.

Chapter Nineteen

Sydney

Be still, heart. Please, be still.

I don’t want him to be standing here in front of

me. I don’t want him to be looking at me, wear-

ing the expression that mirrors my own feelings.

I don’t want him to hurt like I’m hurting. I don’t

want him to miss me like I’ll miss him. I don’t

want him to be falling for me like I’ve been fall-

ing for him.

I want him to be with Maggie right now. I

want him to want to be with Maggie right now, because it would make this so much easier knowing our feelings were less a reflection of each

other’s and more like a one-way mirror. If this

weren’t so hard for him, it would make it easier

for me to forget him, easier to accept his choice.

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Instead, it makes my heart hurt twice as much

knowing that our good-bye is hurting him just as

much as it’s hurting me.

It’s killing me, because nothing and no one

could ever fit my life the way I know he could. I

feel as though I’m willingly forking over my one

chance for an exceptional life, and in return, I’m

accepting a mediocre version without Ridge in it.

My father’s words ring in my head, and I’m be-

ginning to wonder if he had a point after all. A

life of mediocrity is a waste of a life.

Our eyes remain in their silent embrace for

several moments, until we both break our gaze,

allowing ourselves to take in every last thing

about each other.

His eyes scroll carefully over my face as if

he’s committing me to memory. His memory is

the last place I want to be.

I would give anything to always be in his