by Lizzie Shane
Maggie pushed onward, the words soft. “You said it didn’t matter what Scarlett did to you, that you were only mad at her because of Sadie, but she left you too. It’s okay to be angry at her for that. To be hurt.”
He took a breath and she could tell before he opened his mouth that he was going to argue. “Sadie—”
“I know. Sadie lost her mom and that sucks, but you not only suddenly became a single parent, you got dumped. It happened to you too. You can be pissed.”
He shook his head, but he didn’t get up to leave. She would take that.
She drew a line on his abdomen. “I may not know anything about being a single parent, but I know about not having anyone to share things with. Everything’s harder when you have to do it alone.”
“At least it wasn’t in the tabloids,” he murmured.
“The tabloids aren’t so bad,” she said, letting him change the subject for now. She’d said her piece. “It’s just the price of fame.”
“Do you like it?” he asked. “Being famous?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, really thinking about it for the first time in a long time. “I always thought I would. I wanted it so badly because I was so sure it would make me feel special. Celebrated. But…” She shrugged against his chest. “I don’t know. It doesn’t feel like me they’re cheering for. Like I don’t really deserve it and they only love me because they have this idea of me that I can never live up to.”
“You deserve it,” he murmured and this time it was Maggie who shook her head.
“No. Not really. There’s no logic to any of it.” She propped her palms on his chest, looking toward his eyes in the dark. “It’s like my decoy, Bree. She’s this incredible artist. She can create things that reach right into your chest and make you feel so much you think you’ll explode from it and she’s been struggling to make ends meet for years, while I’m rolling in money, which just feels stupid, because what did I ever do?”
“You reached into people’s chests and made them feel,” he said, curling a lock of her hair around one of his fingers. “That’s what you do on the screen and why people pay you so much to do it. You don’t have to apologize for being successful.”
“Don’t I? When it’s so random? There are thousands of actors, good actors, who never make it. Who never get anointed by whatever gilded hand decides who rises and who falls.”
“So be grateful you were the one who was picked.”
“Hashtag blessed?” she mocked.
“It’s not like you didn’t work for it. I know you went to all those classes.”
“You never stop working for it,” Maggie admitted. “It’s everything you eat. Everything you wear. Every expression on your face every time you step out of the house. And you’re constantly being reminded of where you stand in the hierarchy—which awards shows want you present, where they seat you, what your billing is, where you land in the line-up on talk shows…it’s all a competition.”
“And you were always competitive. I knew that from the first day you jumped into that lake so I wouldn’t do it first.”
“True. But sometimes it’s exhausting, spending my entire life trying to prove my worth.”
“Hey.” He jostled her gently. “You don’t need any of that to be good enough.”
Don’t I? Was it really so horrible to want the validation? To want to have those accolades to hold up as a shield against her insecurities? Against those voices inside telling her that she didn’t deserve it, that she was a fraud and someday everything she’d been given was all going to be taken away when the world figured out who she really was—just a scared girl faking her way through it all.
Ian rolled suddenly, catching her in the middle of her doubt spiral and pinning her between his arms, his eyes dark and serious as they stared into hers. “Maggie May, I have known you since you were seven years old—”
“Eight.”
“—since you were seven or eight years old. I know you, inside out and upside down, so trust me, I know what I’m talking about when I say you are one of the most incredible, resilient, lovable people I know and you are worth everything. Understand?”
She couldn’t look away from his eyes, her own tearing, her throat closing so she could only get one word out. “Likewise.”
And when he kissed her, for once, she could actually make herself believe it.
Chapter Thirty
Ian stood in line at the grocery store, surrounded by Maggie’s face on all sides and trying not to look at the magazines. The last thing he needed was someone seeing some unguarded expression on his face and rumors starting around town that something was going on with him and Maggie.
Even if something was definitely going on.
For the last two nights, he’d snuck over to Lolly’s place after Sadie went to sleep, sneaking back in during the small hours of the morning—and thanking God that his daughter was a heavy sleeper and slept on a different floor. He’d left a note on his pillow, just in case Sadie woke up and needed to know where he was, but thankfully the note had never been disturbed when he crept back in.
He didn’t know what the hell they were doing—she was going to have to go back to LA before long, he knew that, but right now he was focusing on living in the moment and the moment was fucking awesome.
He’d thought he was happy, living his day-to-day routine with Sadie—and he had been, but there had been something beneath the surface that he hadn’t acknowledged until Maggie blew into town. He could tell himself that all he wanted was a good life for his daughter, that he wanted nothing for himself, but he’d been isolating himself since Scarlett had walked out with no warning—or what he’d thought was no warning at the time. He’d shut down the part of himself that trusted people, that relied on them, until Maggie arrived.
His gaze lifted helplessly to one of the magazines and he found himself studying her face, the sadness in her eyes. Everything’s harder when you have to do it alone.
She’d been hurt too, and made mistakes and bad calls, but she never stopped trying.
He wanted her to sue the bastard who had written that book about her. He didn’t care how long it took. He wanted anyone who tried to betray her trust to know that there would be consequences. He wanted the asshole to have to acknowledge what he’d done.
Ian frowned. Was that what his mother wanted? Just for someone to acknowledge that what had happened to his father was wrong? Was he the one being the asshole by refusing to support her?
Everything’s harder when you have to do it alone. The words whispered through his thoughts again, carrying a different meaning this time.
“Ian?”
He jerked, realizing he’d been caught staring at the magazine with Maggie on the cover as the line moved ahead of him. At least there was no one behind him. The cashier was Ellen, the daytime manager and one of the regulars at the Tipsy Gull. She gave him a small smile and he fought a blush. Not exactly what he’d been going for in his desire to avoid gossip.
Though if he’d already blown their cover, he might as well go all out.
“Hey, Ellen, do you think we could take those down?” He jerked his chin toward the magazines. “At least while she’s here in town? It’s gotta suck to see your ex trashing you to the tabloids every time you come in for a gallon of milk.”
Ellen’s gaze flicked to the magazines, her eyes widening as if she hadn’t even realized what they said. “Yeah, of course. I should’ve thought of it.” She scanned his groceries. “She’s always so nice to everybody when she comes in. The least we can do is move a few magazines around.”
“Thanks. Appreciate it.” He swiped his club card, hoping that would be the end of it, but as Ellen slowly bagged his groceries, she cocked her head at him—and he tried not to be paranoid that she was calculating whether he’d bought dinner for two or three.
“She’s such a sweetie. Don’t suppose you know how long she’s staying? People have been wondering…�
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“I couldn’t say. I think she’s just going through Lolly’s stuff. I expect she’ll go when she’s done.” He’d been very careful about not asking Maggie about her plans. Not talking about the future. Living in the moment wasn’t something he was very good at, but he was doing it.
“Well. You tell her hi from us,” Ellen said, smiling—and he tried not to read anything into the words.
“If I see her. Take care, Ellen.”
“You too, Ian.”
He strode out of Safeway with his groceries. He had a tendency to just swing by every couple days and grab whatever he needed for dinner, but if he was going to have to run the gossip gauntlet every time he might have to start stocking up for the whole week on the weekends when the cashiers were too busy to chit-chat. Maybe he could even talk his mother into doing the shopping—though she’d probably stop to gossip with everyone in the store, so that might not solve the problem. Especially considering the way she’d been throwing him at Maggie that first night.
God, that felt like forever ago. Had it only been a couple weeks? But it must have been. Maggie wasn’t staying forever. This was an interlude. Live in the moment, Ian.
He climbed into the truck, pushing thoughts of Maggie from his mind, but one refused to go.
Everything’s harder when you have to do it alone.
Ian pulled his phone from his pocket, dialing a number he knew by heart.
She answered on the second ring. “Ian?”
“Hey, Mom. Do you still have that lawsuit thing tomorrow?”
* * * * *
The pink convertible stuck out a flamingo among geese as Maggie pulled into the line of designer SUVs waiting to pick up kids at St. Vincent’s. She kept the top up, hoping to keep a low profile, but there was nothing inconspicuous about the car.
She should have traded cars with Ian, but when he’d asked her if she could pick up Sadie from school so he could drive up to Seattle and support his mom she hadn’t thought through the logistics. She never thought through the logistics. So Maggie sat in the driver’s seat with her Dodgers cap pulled low and giant sunglasses covering half her face, hoping she looked like neither a kidnapper nor a renegade celebrity.
She’d considered dressing the part—going full movie star and proving the kids who had called Sadie a liar wrong—but Ian had talked her out of it last night, and she had to admit he made a good argument. The last thing either of them wanted was for word to spread that going through Sadie was the best way of getting to Maggie Tate. No one wanted her at the center of that kind of media circus.
Incognito was the plan.
Ian had been required to call her in as an authorized pick-up for Sadie. He’d told her she might need to show ID to the pick-up monitor, but she hadn’t thought about the fact that there would be so many people here. Yoga-pant clad mommies with their cell phones already out as they texted and chatted simultaneously while waiting for their kids. Half of them were probably on Instagram.
Maggie slumped down in the driver’s seat, projecting incognito for all she was worth as Cecil stirred on the passenger seat and popped up to put his paws on the window. The clock ticked past three o’clock and Maggie tapped a pattern on the steering wheel.
Then the double doors at the front of the school burst open and kids began pouring out. Maggie straightened, scanning the emerging faces. She’d never wanted to have kids—she was too focused on her career, too selfish, and she hadn’t wanted to mess them up, not exactly having the best template for parenthood. But Sadie wasn’t some hypothetical kid—and Maggie found herself smiling as Cecil’s tail began to sweep the passenger seat in excitement. Sadie emerged from the school—and her face lit up as she ran toward the pink convertible.
“You’re really here!” she squealed when she threw open the curbside door.
Maggie frowned. “Didn’t your dad tell you? He needed to go to Seattle to help your grandma with something today.”
“I know, but you’re actually here.”
“I can’t get out of the car,” Maggie reminded her. “Your dad made me promise not to make a scene.”
“I know.” Sadie glanced over her shoulder at some other uniformed kids, a couple of whom were glancing curiously toward the flamingo car. She clearly longed for a moment of redemption—and Maggie couldn’t blame her. Kids could be brutal. But so could the paparazzi and they wanted to keep Sadie far away from that circus.
The pick-up monitor appeared beside the car and Maggie straightened in the driver’s seat, trying to project trustworthiness—until one look at the woman’s star-struck face told her she didn’t need to project anything. “You’re Maggie Tate,” the woman gasped, a little louder than Maggie would have liked.
“I am. Ian Summer said he was going to call the school and authorize—”
“He did!” the woman blurted. “We’ve been talking about it in the office all day.”
So much for stealth. Maggie grimaced internally, but kept her smile easy. “Do you need me to sign anything or…?”
“No! No, you’re all set! Bye, Sadie. It was nice meeting you, Ms. Tate.” The pick-up monitor patted Sadie on the shoulder and backed away from the car, but continued to stare at it in a way that was drawing entirely too much attention for Maggie’s comfort.
“Bye, Sadie!” another little girl shouted, running past, and Sadie’s face lit with joy as she waved back, “Bye, Kirpa!”
“You ready to go?” Maggie asked and Sadie threw her backpack onto the floorboards with a thunk and then slid in beside Cecil, encouraging him onto her lap before reaching over to yank the car door closed and fasten her seatbelt.
“New friend?” Maggie asked, watching the little girl who had called to Sadie leap into a car farther down the line.
“That’s Kirpa. She’s a Hufflepuff,” Sadie explained, as if that said it all. And maybe it did. Maggie had quickly realized she was going to have to bone up on Harry Potter stuff to follow the nuances of Sadie’s conversation. “We ate lunch together today. She’s from California and her mom won’t let her get a cell phone either, though she did get a wand when they went to Harry Potter World—the good one in Orlando, not the little one in LA. She’s not in my class, which is a bummer, but we aren’t allowed to talk in class anyway, though that doesn’t stop Chasen Wells—”
And so it went. Sadie chattered all the way back to Long Shores and Maggie tried to follow the conversation that included more names thrown at her than a name-dropper at a Hollywood party. Ian had said Sadie had been quiet all week, but she seemed to have bounced back now—though whether it was lunch with her new friend or being picked up by Maggie that had flipped the switch, she couldn’t say.
“Are you in love with my dad?”
Sadie had waited until they were pulling into the driveway to drop her bombshell. It took a moment for the words to register, delivered as they were at the end of a monologue about dogs and how Sadie really was old enough to take care of one.
“What?” Maggie blurted cleverly, swerving to the edge of the driveway as she glanced over at Sadie, before correcting and staring straight ahead.
“It’s okay if you are,” Sadie informed her.
She didn’t know what she was supposed to admit to Sadie. They were keeping things secret. Stealthy. “Why would you even ask that?”
“You guys walk on the beach a lot. And smile at each other a lot.” Sadie shrugged as they pulled into the driveway in front of the beach house. “I bet you’d be a good mom.”
Maggie’s heart spasmed. She hadn’t been ready for that and had absolutely no idea what to say. That she wasn’t so sure she would be a good mom, though she wanted nothing more than to try to be for Sadie? That she was in love with Sadie’s father and quite possibly had been since the moment he’d dared her to jump into that lake when they were eight, but that she was terrified he didn’t love her back?
He’d been her first everything. First kiss. First love. The first person to
really know her. No one had ever understood her the way Ian did, without even trying. He just knew her, down to her soul. Maybe it was because she’d never let anyone else in the way she had him, but it had never been work to let him in. She’d always known she was safe, no matter how vulnerable she was with him. Of course she loved him. How could she not?
But she couldn’t exactly tell his daughter that.
Maggie shut off the engine and turned to face Sadie in the passenger seat. “I…” She cleared her throat. “I really like your dad, and I really like you—I love you guys, but…” She swallowed, trying to find the words.
“But?”
“I don’t want you getting your hopes up that your dad and I are going to fall in love and we’ll all live happily ever after.” Even if Maggie’s hopes were already up. “Sometimes it doesn’t work out like that, but I will always be your friend, okay? No matter what happens between me and your dad. Whether I’m here or in LA or anywhere else. We can write each other letters until your dad says you’re old enough for a cell phone.”
“So you aren’t staying?” Sadie asked, her small face sober.
“I don’t know,” Maggie admitted. She needed him to want her to stay. She needed him to ask. She’d spent her life looking for somewhere to belong, but she wasn’t going to force herself into Ian’s life if he didn’t want her there—and so far he hadn’t said a word about the future. She needed him to want her, and she wasn’t sure he ever would.
* * * * *
The house was dark and Sadie was asleep by the time Ian finally arrived home. Maggie was sitting on the couch, reading a book she’d taken from Lolly’s stash and completely caught up in the story when Ian came up from the garage.
She dropped the book to her lap, facing him over the back of the couch. “Hey. How was it?”
“It was fine,” he said as he dropped his keys in the dish by the door, his voice scratchy with exhaustion. “Sorry it went later than I thought and then we talked for a little while.”
“It’s no problem. I’m happy to help. Sadie’s easy.” She rose from the couch. “She did her homework and we had dinner. I had fun.”
