Maybe Someday(96)

tell her my side. The fact that she’s more than

likely thinking the worst is killing me, and it feels as if I haven’t been able to breathe since she

found out about Sydney and me.

Maggie: I’ll never be ready, but it needs

to be done. I’m home all night.

As ready as I am to see her, I’m also scared to

death. I don’t want to see her heartbroken.

Me: I’ll be there in an hour.

I grab my things and head straight out the

door—straight back to the half of my heart that

needs the most mending.

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? ? ?

I have a key to her place. I’ve had a key to her
place for three years, but I haven’t had to ring her

doorbell in all that time.

I’m ringing her doorbell right now, and it

doesn’t feel right. It feels as though I’m asking

permission to break through an invisible barrier

that shouldn’t even be here in the first place. I

take a step away from the door and wait.

After several painfully long seconds, she opens

the door and makes brief eye contact with me as

she steps aside to let me in. I pictured her on the

drive over with her hair a mess, makeup smudged

underneath her eyes from all the crying, and

sporting three-day-old pajamas. The typical

heartbroken attire for a girl who just lost all trust in the man she loves.

I think I would rather she looked the way I pic-

tured her than how she actually looks. She’s

dressed in her typical jeans, and her hair is neatly

pulled back. There isn’t a smudge of makeup on

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her face or a tear in her eyes. She gives me a faint

smile as she closes the front door.

I watch her closely, because I’m not sure what

to do. Of course, my first instinct is to pull her to me and kiss her, but my first instinct probably

isn’t the best. Instead, I wait until she goes into

her living room. I follow her, wishing more than

anything that she would turn toward me and

throw her arms around me.

She does turn to face me before she takes a

seat, but she doesn’t throw her arms around me.

“Well?” she signs. “How do we do this?” Her

expression is hesitant and pained, but at least

she’s confronting it. I know this is hard for her.

“How about we quit acting like we’re not al-

lowed to be ourselves?” I sign. “This has been

the hardest three days of my life, and I can’t go

another second without touching you.”

I don’t give her a chance to respond before my

arms are wrapped around her and I’m pulling her

against me. She doesn’t resist. Her arms wrap

tightly around me, and as soon as my cheek is

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pressed against the top of her head, I feel her be-

gin to cry.

This is the Maggie I need. The vulnerable

Maggie. The Maggie who still loves me, despite

what I’ve put her through.

I hug her and pull her to the couch, keeping

her secured against me as I sit with her now on

my lap. We continue to hold each other, neither

of us knowing how to begin the conversation. I

press a long kiss into her hair.

What I wouldn’t give to just be able to whisper

all my apologies into her ear. I want her as close

to me as possible while I tell her how sorry I am,

but I can’t do that and sign everything I need to

say at the same time. I hate these moments in life

where I’d give anything to be able to communic-

ate the same way so many others take for

granted.

She slowly lifts her face, and I reluctantly let

her pull back. She keeps her palms pressed

against my chest and looks me directly in the

eyes.

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“Are you in love with her?” she asks.

She doesn’t sign her question; she only speaks

it. The fact that she doesn’t sign it makes me

think it was too hard for her even to ask. So hard

that maybe she doesn’t really want to know the

answer, so she didn’t really want me to under-

stand her question.

I did understand it.

I grab both of her hands pressed against my

chest, and I lift them, kissing each of her palms

before releasing her hands to answer her.

“I’m in love with you, Maggie.”

Her expression is tight and controlled. “That’s

not what I asked.”

I look away from her, not wanting her to see

the struggle in my eyes. I close them and remind

myself that lying won’t get us back to where we

need to be. Maggie’s smart. She also deserves

honesty, which isn’t at all what I’ve been giving

her. I open my eyes and look at her. I don’t an-

swer her with a yes or a no. I shrug, because I

honestly don’t know if I’m in love with Sydney.

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