What We Find (Sullivan's Crossing, #1)(69)

“I’m at space number eleven, cleaning out the grill, raking up the site.”

“And you have your phone with you?” she asked, though she immediately thought it was such a foolish question. He answered, after all.

“I told you I would. I knew you were in court, Maggie. I wanted to be able to answer if you called.”

She started to sob. She backed against the cold tiles of the bathroom wall and slowly slid down until she was sitting on her heels. Sitting on the heels of those dressy business pumps.

“Honey? You okay? Need me to come?”

“I’m okay,” she whimpered. “It’s over, Cal. It’s over.”

“Tell me,” he said.

“Dismissed with prejudice. The judge made a fantastic speech... I wonder if it’s possible to get a copy. He said the doctors were heroic.”

“We’ll get a copy,” he said. “I know how to get a copy.”

“There were friends there,” she said, still crying and gasping a little. “I thought they mostly hated me. They were all listed as witnesses, deposed, subpoenaed. I didn’t tell them but they came.”

“Honey, where are you?”

“Oh. I’m in the bathroom. Why?”

He laughed. “There’s an echo.”

“I’m falling apart. They’re having a celebration at a pub down the street and I’m in the bathroom, falling apart.”

“You’re just unloading the tension of a long ordeal. You’re not going to fall apart. You need me to drive up there and sleep with you tonight?”

“No, I’m okay. I’m going to visit my mother and Walter on the way home tomorrow. But then...” She stopped and sniffed. “Then I’m coming home and I have nothing to do but you. Do you get that, California? I have no more court case, no job, no stress, no nothing. Nothing but you. I have to get something started or finished or figured out with you.”

“Do you, now?” he asked, laughter in his voice.

“No pressure,” she said. “We just have to figure out where we’re going because I just don’t want anything else. I want you in my life. While you’re missing me tonight, figure out what I have to do to get that, will you?”

“Sure, Maggie,” he said. And his voice was, if possible, smoldering.

“I think I’m falling in love with you, damn it. You’re probably a worse risk than the artist or the ER doctor. I didn’t do this on purpose. I had no intention. Please don’t make me wait, Calhoun. You’re a smart lawyer, come up with a statement of intent and a plan because I don’t want to be strung along or crushed.”

“Go have a glass of wine, Maggie,” he said. “Everything is going to be fine. Don’t drink and drive!”

“All right, then. But you better think about it!” She cried a little more. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

“You’ll be okay after a little cry and a few deep breaths,” he said.

“Oh my God, I told you I love you on the phone in a courthouse bathroom! Crying! You probably don’t believe me but I don’t cry that much, just over huge ordeals, which in my life...”

“Are you going to try to take it back now?” he asked.

“This is why no one ever casts someone like me in a chick flick, because I don’t even know how to stage words of love! Do you think I’m socially handicapped?”

“Maybe a little bit,” he said.

“Oh, stop it! Well, it’s probably true. You miss a lot of social training when you want premed...”

“And when you refuse debutante balls. I hear there’s tons of social training for debutantes.”

She laughed and slowly rose. “This must be so hard for you,” she said. “Here you have experience with princesses and find yourself with a debutante reject.”

“Only one princess,” he reminded her. “And fooling around with me cost her the crown, so maybe you should be careful. Have you called Sully?”

“I’m going to do that right now, as soon as we hang up. I’ll see you tomorrow, Calvin. Be prepared. I’m coming back with emotions blazing.”

“I can’t wait. Now go have fun! You’ve earned it.”

“Maybe I’ll call you tonight and interrupt your reading time.”

“That’d be okay. Just call Sully. I’m not good at keeping secrets and he’s been a little anxious today.”

They said goodbye and Maggie tucked away her phone, deciding she could call Sully before going into O’Malley’s. She occupied a stall briefly and when she came out she was facing Mrs. Markiff. The woman was waiting right outside the stall, a fierce look on her face.

“Mrs. Markiff!” she said, startled.

“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” she said bitterly. “You let my boy die and you got away with it.”

“I did everything I could,” Maggie said pleadingly. “I’m so sorry for your loss, but I did the best I could. There just wasn’t anything more I could do.”

“A person could try! You didn’t try!” Then she whirled around and stormed out.

So there, Maggie thought. Just in case I needed to be reminded that I’m not allowed even the briefest periods of happiness without a dark cloud passing over.