I can’t marry Jack. Maggie sank onto the toilet seat and pulled some paper off the roll to blot her face. Life sucked. Life was totally unfair. Every ounce of her desire belonged to him. Every part of her wanted to marry him. She dropped her head into both hands. But she couldn’t. Jack wasn’t meant for her, a little girl from upstate New York who was missing half her insides. He came from money and power and prestige. He didn’t brag about any of those things, but they were part of who he was, and Maggie didn’t fit into that world. Never would. Never really wanted to.
Plus, she’d lied to him. Or rather, she hadn’t told him the complete truth about her past. Once he found out, he wouldn’t want to be her husband. He wouldn’t want to be married to someone who’d kept such an awful secret from him.
My husband…she tried out the word on her tongue. Solid and scary, she thought. The tears started up. Well, there’s only one solution. I knew it was only a matter of time before we broke up. Better now than later, I guess. The thought made her nauseous, and she bent over the sink until she was sure she wouldn’t lose last night’s dinner.
Maggie stared at the doorknob. You can do this. Just walk in there and tell him it was a mistake. You were drunk. So was he…wasn’t he? It doesn’t matter. He’ll understand. He’ll know it’s the right thing to do. She steeled her nerves and pulled open the door.
“Jack?”
He rolled over. “Yeah?”
Maggie sat down on the bed beside him, careful to keep a few inches between them. “What is this?” Hands spread on the sheet, she stared at her fingers.
He frowned. “The bed?”
“No. What is this?” She traced the silver band.
He sat up and rubbed his eyes. She glanced down at his left hand. A matching band, slightly wider, circled his own third finger.
“Did we—” She stopped and tried to steady her voice. Her gaze darted around the room, taking in the half-empty bottle of champagne on the bureau, the wilted white roses, the videotape labeled “Maggie and Jack.”
“We didn’t really get married last night, did we? Tell me it was a joke, or that I’m having a dream. Or something.”
He continued to stare at her, not saying a word, and she knew it wasn’t a dream at all. Pieces of the night began to come back to her. A small, white room. A tall bearded man smiling down at them. Piped-in music filling the space, and the overwhelming smell of flowers. She began to pace around the tiny motel room.
“Mags, wait a minute.”
I have to get out of here. I have to think. Before Jack could say anything else, she pulled on a t-shirt and shorts and fled. Outside, in the littered parking lot, the morning sun shone down without mercy. Where was she supposed to go? In her flip-flops, she trudged across the pavement to the chain link fence at the back of the property. On the other side, beyond some sad, drooping hedges, ran a highway. Past that, the Nevada desert stretched out as far as she could see. Even at six in the morning, traffic hummed. Life never really stopped moving, she supposed. Maggie chewed at a fingernail and wondered if holding her breath would halt time. Or better yet, spin it backwards, so she could undo the huge error she’d just made.
Footsteps approached. “Mags, what’s going on?” Jack’s voice, quiet and confused, pained her. She didn’t turn around because all she wanted was to fold herself into his embrace. It took everything she had to keep her distance. This would be a thousand times harder if he touched her. If he kissed her.
“It was a mistake,” she said. She didn’t meet his gaze, just continued to look into empty space. Heat pressed down on the back of her neck. She swallowed to keep herself from taking back the words. She turned in time to see his eyes turn from light green to something darker, something sadder.
“Listen, we shouldn’t have. It’s just—I’m not ready. You’re going halfway around the world, and—”
“I want you to come with me.”
“I can’t.”
He paused, her chin jutting out a little at her refusal. “You mean you don’t want to.”
Oh, Jack. It’s what I want more than anything. But there are things you don’t know. I wish I could tell you about the part of me I lost when I was fifteen. I wish I could tell you about the operation that changed me when I was nineteen. Maybe if she just came out and told him everything, he’d forgive her. He’d tell her it was okay, that he’d still want her to be his wife. But she couldn’t bear to look into his eyes if he changed his mind, so she lied instead. In the end, it seemed easier.
“I have two years of school left. I can’t just follow you to England.”
“You could transfer. You could study there with me. Or we could just wait until you graduate. Two years is a hell of a long time, but it isn’t forever.”
“We’re too young.”
“Don’t you love me?”
Oh, God, you’re killing me. “Of course. More than you’ll ever know.” She straightened, shaking off the hand he put on her wrist. She needed to say the next words as fast as she could. “Listen, we were drunk. It was a mistake. We can’t get married now. It doesn’t make sense. Let’s just get it annulled as soon as possible.”
She wanted Jack to stop her, to say something, to take her by the arms and shake her until she changed her mind.
“If that’s what you want,” he said instead, looking at his feet.
“It’s best for both of us. We’re too young.” And I’m too broken.
*
From the corner of her eye, Maggie watched as Neve’s jaw fell.
“Yeah. That’s what happened.” She couldn’t bear to recall the way Jack had looked at her, happy and hopeful, while they stared at the matching silver rings on their fingers.
She shifted in her seat. “He actually believed we could have worked things out.” She shrugged. “I knew we couldn’t. There was this huge lie hanging between us, and it was all my fault. I couldn’t have him find out years later that I’d trapped him, that he was married to a wife who couldn’t give him kids. So we got an annulment.”
“You never told him the real reason why?”
“I couldn’t.” That was the end of the story, plain and simple, Maggie thought.
Sometimes, it’s easier to break things off and leave certain secrets in the darkness. Some lies are easier to tell than others. “It was a mistake,” rolls off the tongue less painfully than “I can’t have children” or “I’m sorry I never told you in the first place.” So we choose the lies we tell, the lies we’ll live by, and we move on. We move apart. We find new lives and try not to make the same mistakes again.
The only trouble was, she’d never really found a new life. She’d never really found another Jack. Seeing him tonight made Maggie fear she never would.
1:00 a.m.
Exhaustion dragged at Maggie’s bones. She tried to keep her eyes open, but her lashes fluttered and fell against her cheeks. All she wanted was her bed and her lavender-scented pillows, even if it was one of the last nights she might sleep on them.
She braked as they headed into another long line of cars. They’d made it a half-mile or so before encountering another flooded section of road. This one looked twice as wide as the last. Police cars had parked here and there with their lights flashing, and a couple of officers stood out in the rain directing traffic. Maggie waited for the pick-up in front of her to wind its way around to the far right side of the road. Though he had to drive onto the sidewalk, he made it. Just follow his lead, she told herself, and keep the wheel steady. She pointed her Honda in the same direction and prayed that water wouldn’t lap the bottom of her low-slung car.
A horn beeped behind her. She ignored it. Another stupid city driver, probably trying to cut in. Well, you can wait your turn. We all want to get home tonight. Especially those of us who might not have a home after tomorrow. The horn beeped again, longer this time. Maggie frowned and glanced in her rear view mirror. She couldn’t see much in the dark, but she could guess who sat behind her: some puffed-up businessman in his
SUV, demanding that she move out of his way. Her middle finger twitched and she had an urge to raise it straight out the window. Another series of beeps. Maggie gritted her teeth. What the hell was this guy’s problem? There was only one way around the roadblock, and she was next in line. Back off, idiot.
“What’s wrong with him?” Neve turned and peered behind them.
“I don’t know. It’s like he’s the only car on the road.”
Well, she’d be through the flooding in a moment, and then he could pass her on the shoulder if he was that desperate to get by. Maggie touched her toe to the gas pedal and held her breath. Easy does it. Don’t even think about that guy behind you.
But before she had inched forward more than a few feet, she heard a door open and shut. Footsteps marched in her direction.
Did he just get out of his car? Is he coming up here? A flutter of panic started in her chest. Maybe it wasn’t a businessman at all. Maybe it was some kind of killer who took advantage of the night’s chaos to prey on innocent women. Did she have mace in the glove box? Had she put her thick-handled umbrella in the back seat? Should she call 911?
Maggie tried to calm down. There were cops everywhere in sight, after all. No one was going to break into her car on a major city street. Not tonight. She glanced into her side mirror, but she couldn’t see anything except a tall shape moving her way. Maybe he needed help. Maybe he had someone else in there, a sick kid or a wife in labor or something. Maybe—
Someone tapped on her window. Maggie rolled the glass down an inch. “Can I help you?”
“I certainly hope so. I’ve spent the last hour trying to find you.”
That voice…
Maggie’s stomach flipped over. Jack—of course Jack, no one else would be crazy enough to come after her in a storm—stood outside her window. She let her gaze move up and drink in that torso she knew by heart, the broad chest, the strong arms. With his shoulders hunched up to his ears, hands jammed into both pockets, Jack leaned against her car. His curls blew a little in the wind. Two circles of red burned in his cheeks and he shivered, but when he caught her eye, he smiled.
He’s actually standing out there smiling at me.
Maggie thought she should probably roll up the window, but her fingers remained glued to the steering wheel as if they belonged to someone else. To some other idiot who couldn’t think of anything except the words He came after me, over and over again. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t even look away. All she could feel was electricity jumping between them and carrying her back through all the years.
“Who is it?” Neve leaned over, trying to see. “Oh…”
Maggie barely heard her. God, I’m in trouble. She stared at the open want in Jack’s face. She couldn’t keep her eyes off him. He leaned down even closer and she could smell his cologne. It made her want to reach over and touch him, rub her thumb over the spread of stubble on his chin. It made her want to taste him again.
Stop it, she ordered herself. Roll up the window. Drive away, before it’s too late. He was engaged, she reminded herself, this idiot who’d come running after her. Whatever he had to say was hours too late. Years too late, really. She couldn’t go down that road again. She couldn’t let herself fall.
“I’m sorry you wasted your time,” she finally said as she fumbled for the window control. “I don’t have anything to say to you. Go back to the ball. Go back to your fiancée.” She spit out the word through the last little crack before she closed the window all the way. But Jack didn’t go away. He didn’t even move. Instead, he began to tap at the glass. Maggie turned on the radio and ignored him. Blondie blasted into the car, singing about the tide being high but still holding on. Yeah, but for how long? she wanted to ask the rock singer. How many years do you wade through and wait? How much life do you sacrifice?
She stepped on the accelerator, ready to move the car forward whether or not Jack still clung to the side of it. But a cop stepped in front of her and held up a palm. Maggie’s hopes dropped for a second. All I want to do is get out of here. Please. Then she thought again. Maybe the cop had stopped her because Jack was standing in the middle of the street. Maybe he was going to come over, ask Jack what the hell he was doing, tell him to mind his own business and get on home. She hoped so. Jack might listen to an authority figure. He sure wasn’t going to listen to her.
She slapped the car into neutral and revved the engine, trying to scare Jack off at the same time she tried to send the traffic cop a telepathic SOS. Hello? Don’t you see this guy standing here next to me? Arrest him. Throw him in the backseat of your car. Do something. He’s disturbing the peace. He’s disturbing my peace.
But the police officer only stood there in the middle of the street, his hand suspended as if on a string. For a long two minutes he made her wait, as an ambulance pulled out from an alleyway. He barely looked in their direction at all. And Jack didn’t look like he was going anywhere.
“Mags, open up.” Jack’s voice came through her window despite the wind and the rock ‘n roll.
Neve giggled. “He’s sure making a fool of himself for you.”
“I don’t care. It’s not going to win him any points.”
“Come on. Why don’t you give him a chance?”
“Because he’s engaged. And because I have too many other problems in my life to deal with right now.”
Maggie spun the radio knob again, searching for a song that would drown out his voice, a song that would make her forget this mess rather than examine it. She found Queen’s “Another One Bites the Dust,” turned up the volume and sang along. She didn’t care that probably half the cars on this side of the street could hear her off-key warbling. Better than to hear the pounding and the keening of a heart half-broken.
Jack’s voice, and his tapping on her window, stopped. Finally. Maggie let out a breath. The cop flipped over his hand, two fingers called her forward, and she put the car into gear. But then the back passenger door opened, and Jack slid inside.
“What the—” she sputtered, twisting around. “Get out of here. Get out of my goddamn car.”
“Nope.” Jack folded up his legs accordion style and shook his head. One strong hand reached over the seat, touching her shoulder. “Mags, listen to me.”
“No.” Like a child she pulled away from him, though she could still feel the outline of his fingers pressed against her skin. She liked it. She wanted it. She desperately tried to fight it. His presence inside the tiny car, larger than life, fogged the windows immediately. He didn’t say a word. Yet when Jack looked at Maggie in the rear view mirror, all she wanted to do was fall into his gaze, dive down deep and find a place to float within him. She reached for a curl to tug at. Damn. Forget the ball. Forget Dillon. Forget even Neve sitting beside her. In another minute, she’d be back there, wrapping herself around Jack. She couldn’t help it. Put the two of them together and fireworks lit up the world. Ten years sure hadn’t changed that.
“I…um…” Neve stared at her lap. “Maybe you two need to talk. Without me around.”
“Good idea.” Maggie put the car back into Park and jabbed a thumb at the hazard light button on her dashboard. She shoved her door open and wrapped her skirt in one hand.
“Where are you going?” Jack writhed around in the cramped backseat, trying to push open the door and follow her.
“Neve, I’m sorry,” Maggie called over her shoulder. “I’ll just—I’ll be back in a minute. Move the car if you have to, over by the sidewalk. I’ll find you.”
She thrust herself into the darkness and started walking. She didn’t know what she planned on doing at one o’clock in the morning on a wet city street. Nor did she know where she planned on going. Just away.
This is crazy, you know, a voice hummed inside her head. Jack’s only ten steps behind. He’ll catch up with you. Touch you. Talk to you while you watch his mouth move and imagine it on the ridge of your collarbone.
Maggie pulled the borrowed raincoat tighter around her shoulder
s and kept walking. She didn’t get far. Behind her, she could hear Jack swearing under his breath. Ten seconds later, he grabbed her by the elbow. She didn’t stop moving. He didn’t let go. On they went across the street, tromping through puddles and ignoring the water that splashed up around them.
“Stop running away from me.”
“I’m not running.”
“You always run.”
She didn’t answer, furious.
“Don’t you want to talk about what happened back there?”
“No.”
“You can’t tell me that kiss didn’t mean anything,” Jack said. His breath came in little pants. “It sure as hell did to me. I wasn’t just passing the time until Paige showed up, you know.”
That name hurt her, bit into her with a grotesque pain. Maggie stopped walking, her arm limp. Her neck ached and her teeth chattered. Jack was right; she couldn’t outrun him. There was no place to go.
“What difference would it make if it meant something?” She lifted her chin and met his gaze with a challenge. “It’s been ten years, Jack. We’re different people now.”
He took another step closer, wrapped both hands around her arms, and stared at her so intently that Maggie’s face warmed, despite the damp night chill.
“I’m not. I’m the same guy you fell in love with. The guy who wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. A few years and a job doesn’t mean I’ve become someone else. Not in that way.” He pounded his chest. “This is the same. This—the heart you broke. The guy you left without a decent explanation.” Anger rippled through his voice.
“Is that what this is about?” Maggie felt eyes on them and could have sworn she heard car windows easing down as their voices carried. “You’re still mad about Vegas?”
“I’m not mad. But you never gave me a chance to tell you what I wanted. You never knew what I was thinking that morning. You just made your decision and that was that. We got the annulment because you wanted it. Not because I did.”
Maggie couldn’t have this conversation. And she couldn’t revisit that decision. “Well, what do you want now?” she shrugged. “An apology? Then I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t let you say whatever it is you wanted to, that morning. I’m sorry I went through with the whole thing at all. In fact, I’m sorry we went to Las Vegas in the first place.” She stepped back and pulled her arms from his grip. “There. You’ve got your apology.”
One Night in Boston Page 19
