What If (If Only.... #2)(72)

“I love you, Maggie.” His lips brush mine as he speaks the words. Then he’s kissing me, and I’m kissing him back. Kissing him and filling with the guilt of knowing this is good-bye when he has to think otherwise. But the guilt will be here for a long while, so I push it down, allowing myself the minute or two of basking in those words—I love you, Maggie—hoping he knows with each touch of my lips to his that I’m telling him the same, that I’ve loved him since the date that wasn’t a date, that this is good-bye because I love him, too.

When he pulls away for air, I release my head from the cradle of his hands, sliding to my knees, then climbing to my feet. Griffin stands, too, but he doesn’t try to kiss me again. He knows. He sees it in my guarded stare.

“You don’t know me,” I say. “Not like you think you do. You wouldn’t feel the same if you did. I want so much for you, Griffin, but I’m not the one to give it to you.”

“I’ll decide that, Maggie. Don’t push me away because you think you know me, too. Let me into your life so I can prove you wrong.”

I reach behind me, my hand on the doorknob, ready to run.

“I need to go.” The realization hits that he came here with Miles, that Miles thought I’d let him stay. “I’ll have Miles drive you home.” His jaw ticks.

“Don’t worry about me,” he says, his tone flat. “Miles said I can crash at Paige’s since it’s so late. So that’s it? You’re going to walk away without giving me a chance.”

His voice pleads now, but I’m already turning the handle.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Griffin. But I will. If I don’t walk away now, I’ll only hurt you more.”

Because walking away now is hard enough. It’ll only get worse if we put it off.

The door opens, and I take a step back over the threshold and into my apartment.

“I’m sorry, Griffin.” The tears flow freely. At least I can give him that. I can show him this is anything but easy, but it’s for the best.

“Maggie, don’t.”

“Mags.” I hear Miles behind me, the disappointment in his voice too much on top of Griffin’s hurt.

“I can’t,” I tell them both. “Not yet. I just can’t.”

I let the door swing wide as I head for the only place I can be alone, yet the one place Griffin remains, even if he isn’t here—my room.

I don’t turn on the light so I don’t have to see his face in any of the photos on the wall…or the one on my nightstand of him reading in bed. I collapse on my bed, his words still echoing in my head.

My eyes closed and sleep already winning the fight, I whisper to the darkness, “I love you, too.”





Chapter Twenty-Six


Griffin


When I wake up, the first thing I notice is the partially obstructed vision in my right eye. Then there’s the pain, the skin swollen and stretched and stitched together. But the other pain is worse, my insides twisted and knotted and f*ck. Everything about last night comes rushing in, and I close my eyes, begging sleep to take me for a little while longer so I don’t have to deal with today. Today’s an *.

But the smell of coffee rouses me further, as does the fact I can see from the couch that Paige and Miles left the front door wide open. Her kitchen is empty, which means the coffee isn’t here. Neither is Paige.

I find the bathroom and decide to first take care of business and then not avoid the mirror. When I meet my own stare in the glass, I laugh, wincing as I do. Sunday brunch is in twenty-four hours.

Tomorrow is the last time you go home looking like you don’t give a shit, like your life’s not worth wanting something more.

I’m pretty sure that thought comes from my reflection because right now the only thing I have to say to myself is a big old Fuck you.

There’s that coffee aroma again. And Paige’s open door. I know where she must be but am not sure I want to follow.

Cotton mouth along with the hope of something filling my stomach enough to take my pain meds helps propel me out the door and through Maggie’s, which also sits wide open.

Paige sits on the couch, mug in hand, flipping through Maggie’s DVR.

“She’s not here. Neither is Miles. They’re at her six-month checkup, and I’m butting in where I don’t belong.”

My feet stay rooted in the doorway. I shouldn’t be here if I haven’t been invited. Yet I know being this close means finding out some kind of answer, an answer Paige wants me to have.

“Tell me to leave, Paige.” But I can see in her eyes her mind is made up. I only have to step the rest of the way through this door to make up mine, but the violation is too big. I can’t do it.

She sets her mug down on the table and strides past me into the kitchen, filling a second mug from the coffee maker.

“My coffee maker is broken,” she says, handing me the mug. “I told Maggie I wasn’t letting you leave without making you a cup…without letting you in.”

She sighs, leading me far enough into the apartment so she can kick the door shut.

“She didn’t fight me on it.”

“But she didn’t ask you to let me in.”

“Semantics. Either way, she knows you’re here. Do what you will with that, but I suggest you take a quick tour. Then you can be on your way and make whatever decision you want to make.”