by A. M. Mahler
“Thanks, doc,” Simon said.
Sebastian left us to our awkward silence. We both looked down at our joined hands, where at some point, Simon had started stroking my skin with his thumb. It was comforting. Though I should be comforting him.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered not raising my eyes.
“What for?” The surprise in his tone caused me to look up. With the frown on his face, he looked genuinely confused. I waved my free hand around between the door and his head. He grinned like the Cheshire Cat. “I’m not. This has been the best day ever.”
“You cracked your head open.”
“After catching sight of your stellar breasts. First was the kiss, next was seeing you topless, and now you’re sleeping over. How did this day not totally go in my favor?” I ran my hand through my hair and smiled at him. I guess when he put it like that, it was pretty hard to argue.
“You’re quick to forgive.”
“I want to see your breasts again,” he said bluntly, and my face heated.
“Let’s start with getting you home and having some dinner.” I let go of his hand and pushed up off the couch. When he looked up at me, he looked vulnerable. My heart cracked at the thought that if I hadn’t volunteered to help him tonight, he’d be stuck in the hospital alone. That didn’t seem fair.
He took my hand and launched himself off the couch. Though I was reluctant to let go, I needed to pack up my stuff. “Do you have anything to get from your office to take home? You should probably work from home tomorrow.”
“Are you going to stay with me tomorrow, too?”
I hadn’t really thought that far ahead, but didn’t someone need to keep an eye on him tomorrow to make sure he didn’t take a nap, pass out, or start vomiting out of control? Now that his head was no longer gushing blood, he seemed steadier and probably didn’t really need me tomorrow, but ...
“Okay. I’ll need to go home and get clothes. Do you want to wait here? Or maybe Ryan can take you home, and I’ll get my stuff and dinner and then meet you at your place?”
Slowly, he nodded his head in agreement. His eyes darkened, and I felt like they were boring into me, cutting through my walls, and seeing everything that was inside. My heart sped up, and I took an involuntary breath in. My body’s reaction to him was puzzling to me. I had never felt this alive before from the attention of a man, and as much as it was exhilarating, it was also terrifying. It was a threat to my routine, my quiet life, and possibly my goals. But I couldn’t fight it, so I owed it to myself to explore it—to spend time with Simon and really get to know him. So, though it was wildly out of my comfort zone, that’s what I was going to do.
Simon
R
yan helped himself to a beer from my fridge as I sat in my impersonal apartment waiting for Maggie to show up. It wasn’t that the apartment wasn’t nice. It was. Hardwood floors, newer furniture, new paint, appliances that were relatively modern. The landlord certainly took care of it. From what I understood, before taking on a permanent tenant, the place mostly rented out to weekenders in the winter that came up for winter sports. My lease was month-to-month on the theory that I’d either be finding my own place or high-tailing it back Maine. Returning to Maine was, for now, off the table.
I hadn’t unpacked my books yet or set out many photos. Most of the photos were in my office at work. That’s where I spent the most time. There was one family photo by my bed that I had out. It was taken at last year’s Lobster Festival in Cape Brandon. Devon had one of the other officers take it of all of us. I stared at it every night. I already made the decision that I was going down this weekend for a visit. I needed to see my boys, and I maybe needed to speak to Devon about Maggie. I felt guilty for wanting Maggie and wanting to stay in New Hampshire. I knew that was messed up, but it was the way that it was.
Now standing in the middle of the living room, Ryan took a sip from the beer bottle and turned in a circle studying the space.
“Dude, you need a woman. Don’t you know you’re supposed to put shit on the walls and have fancy pillows? And that’s a small-ass TV.”
“The TV came with the place. None of this is my stuff.” He looked like he was really enjoying that beer. Man, I wished I could have one right now.
“You don’t strike me as the type of guy not to have unpacked by now.”
“I didn’t want to unpack yet because I was going to look for a more permanent place.” I stopped and looked around at my unwelcoming home. “This apartment doesn’t have enough space for my nephews when they come visit. It’s only one bedroom.” Even though Devon said he’d bring the boys, I just assumed I’d go there. I didn’t want my brother to be inconvenienced by me moving. He worked hard and often ended up with weekend shifts. To get away, he’d need to find someone to cover for him. Cape Brandon didn’t have a very large police force. It was easier for me to do all the traveling.
“I might know somewhere,” Ryan said, wandering over to the picture window that looked out on the street below. “It’s two bedrooms. It’s not a huge place, but it’s nice, well-maintained, has a fenced in back yard. It’s my sister Natalie’s house. When she got married, she moved into his place. It’s just sitting empty right now. I’m sure she’d rent it to you, or sell it, if you were interested.”
Renting with the option to buy sounded promising, as did a fenced-in backyard. We could camp back there like we did at home. Maybe I could even build them a tree fort like they’ve always wanted. Mom wouldn’t allow one because when we were kids Devon went and fell out of ours and broke his leg and arm. She made dad tear it down after that. Devon’s yard was wooded but not very conducive to a fort.
“I’m definitely interested.”
“All right,” he said. “I’ll talk to her and get you over there to look at it.” I nodded my head in thanks. And then paused. I just agreed to go look at a house. I already knew that moving back to Maine was off the table for the moment, but a house?
Ryan sat down on the other end of the couch and picked up the remote. He turned on the Mavericks game, and we watched in silence for a few minutes while we waited for Maggie.
“I met your brother the other night at Over the Hop.”
“Yeah, which one?”
“Zach. He didn’t like my assessment of McClaren.”
“Yeah, McClaren isn’t that strong this year. Zach sees something the rest of us don’t. I’ve never been a major league pitcher, so I’ll defer to my brother, but the kid sure does suck this season.”
I chuckled and looked back to the TV. McClaren wasn’t pitching tonight.
We fell back into silence. The television was the only sound in the apartment, other than a ticking clock. I felt a little awkward. My boss was babysitting me. But he also seemed entirely comfortable here with me. I swear he was minutes away from propping his feet up on my coffee table. I had no indication from him that he in any way felt uncomfortable. He seemed like a pretty social guy though, given the fact he always had family visitors at work, and he was constantly going down to the floor to talk to the mechanics. And not about work either. He went down there to shoot the breeze, something I was never very good at doing.
The pitcher was hot tonight. The Mavs were ahead by four runs and the other team only had one. Devon and I took the boys to a Mavs game a few years ago. They had been busting with excitement. Of course, by the seventh inning, they all crashed, so we left early. One of the things we did together a lot was to go to the AAA games for our local team. They were just as excited to see those. I guess I’ll have to get online to see where the closet ballpark is. A man can’t survive on just televised baseball. He had to see it, smell it, feel the energy of the crowd. Baseball was an experience, not just a pastime. I found it to be the perfect pastime for introverts. You could share in the excitement with others, but not actually have to socialize.
There was a knock on the door, and my heart immediately beat faster. My body responded just knowing she was on the other side of the door.
&
nbsp; “It’s open!” Ryan called out. He looked like he was ready to ride out the rest of the game on my couch. Would he fire me for kicking his intruding ass out? Or are workplace relationships frowned upon at WRR? I hadn’t considered that. Maybe I needed to actually take a look at the paperwork Jamie gave me. I just filled out what needed to be filled out and gave it back. I know I saw something about company policies and procedures.
There was a thud against the door, and since Ryan still sat on the couch fixated on the TV, I got up to open it. Maggie had her hands full of paper bags. A laptop tote and backpack hung over her shoulder. She looked at me with grateful eyes, and I felt a stupid grin spread across my face. Her chunky black glasses were slightly askew, but her hair was down and combed straight. Instead of her usual cargo pants, she dressed more comfortably in yoga pants, a t-shirt, and a zip-up hoodie. She swapped out her boots for flip flops. She was unapologetically real.
I took the food bags from her to ease her burden. She looked around the room before sliding the bags from her shoulder between the couch and end table to keep them out of the way.
“Smells good,” Ryan said standing up and looking up at my full arms in interest. Finally, he moved in and took them from me. This guy was no home care nurse.
“You aren’t having any,” Maggie said. “Go home to your wife.” She plucked the bags from his arms and headed to the kitchen.
Ryan arched a brow before tipping back his head and draining his beer. With a manly belch, he stretched, raising his arms over his head, exposing his stomach when his shirt rode up. When Ryan was off the clock, he was way off the clock.
“Feel better, Simon,” Ryan said. “Let me know if you need anything.” Then he handed me his empty bottle and left the apartment, calling out a goodbye on his way.
When I entered the kitchen, Maggie was pulling out containers and setting them down on the counter. “Sorry,” she said. “He looked like he was settling in, and you need to rest. Does watching the television bother you at all? Sometimes when you have a concussion, noises and screens bother you more than they normally would.”
“No, it’s fine.”
Setting the remaining bags on the counter, I opened a cabinet, removed two plates, then retrieved the utensils. Maggie eased off the lid to the baked spaghetti and unwrapped garlic bread next.
“I hope you like pasta.” She said. “I had a craving. Spaghetti is my go-to dish when I need some comfort food. I’d have made some here, but it’s getting a little late to start making dinner. We’d be eating at like nine o’clock. I wasn’t sure how long you’d last.”
“Spaghetti is perfect. My mom makes an amazing sauce. She uses ground turkey and red wine and it makes a big batch. She’s also bakes her own bread for garlic bread.” The longing I felt for my mother’s kitchen wasn’t as strong as it used be with Maggie here, but I craved my mom’s cooking all the same.
“Sounds delicious. I also got some wings and pizza slices to heat up for lunch tomorrow. And bagels. I got some bagels for the morning with cream cheese. I didn’t know how well-stocked you were on food.”
“Not very.” I really should start cooking more instead of depending on Over the Hop to feed me two meals a day.
She handed me a plate piled with food before picking up her own and looking around the kitchen.
“I don’t have a table. It’s just me, and I usually eat in front of the TV, so I stuck it down in storage. I hope you don’t mind.”
“I grew up in an RV, remember? We’re champions at casual eating.” She led the way back to the living room and tucked her legs underneath her as she sat on the couch, and I dutifully followed. “I remember when my brother and I were teenagers and we went to my cousin’s wedding. We all sat around this fancy table draped in white cloths with fine china and way too many forks. We were dressed up in fancy clothes and so awkward. Every single one of us was miserably uncomfortable in formal clothes. I couldn’t stop thinking about how uncomfortable the bride and groom looked in her big dress and his tux. I decided then that my wedding, should I ever have one, was not going to be so formal. I remember thinking that that wedding wasn’t a reflection of what my cousin was like at all. My brother and I donated the fancy clothes at our next stop. We didn’t have the room to store them. Well, I guess we probably did, but fancy clothes weren’t a priority for us. We only kept what we felt we couldn’t live without.”
Leaning back into the cushions, I propped my socked feet up on the coffee table. “I don’t understand the fork thing either. Who decided you can’t use the same fork for salad, entrée, and dessert? What a waste.”
“Right?” She agreed. “You also have to change plates.”
I stabbed a meatball with my fork and pointed it at her. “Another good point. Clearly class is wasted on us.”
Laughing, she lifted her fork with a heaping roll of spaghetti on it and shoved it into her mouth. “Totally,” she said around a mouthful of spaghetti.
“So, what happens next with the car?”
Maggie pushed her glasses back up her nose and poked at her food, volleying back and forth between meatball and spaghetti. Finally choosing a meatball, she stabbed it and spoke before shoving it in her mouth. “Ryan and Jamie are preparing the pitch to Colton Donavan. They’ll do up a snazzy slide deck on the car, it’s specs, NASCAR rules and how it meets them, but still exceeds others in performance, and he’ll take it for a test drive.”
“If he likes it, will he leave with it that day?”
“Oh, no. That car stays with us. That’s a prototype. He’ll need to put in an order for how many he wants. We’ll keep tinkering with it as rules change, technology changes. He can also pay for an exclusivity clause, meaning we don’t show that prototype to any other client. And if Colton gets into stock car racing, believe you me, every driver’s going to want to know where he got his car from.”
Tired of looking at her sideways and trying to eat at the same time, I turned my body toward the back of the couch and bent my knee up for room, letting the other one dangle off the side to the floor. “Jesse said Donavan only really came to WRR for you.”
“He likes to brag about me.” She shrugged while using her garlic bread to sop up the last of the sauce on her plate.
Yes, but are you romantically involved with him? Have you ever been? You’re obviously close, but what is he to you? If she were mine, and I saw her kiss another guy, you better believe I’d be filled with rage and heartbreak at the betrayal. Unless they had an open relationship? Maybe they’re not exclusive. That wouldn’t work for me. I’d demand it.
When she stood in front of me waiting for me to hand her my empty plate, I was shaken out of my thoughts. “I can wash my own dish.”
“You’re supposed to be resting—doctor’s orders.” He didn’t actually say that, but it was implied. Against my very upbringing, I handed her my plate. In my mom’s house, the person who cooked or provided the food didn’t do any dishes. On the other hand, Maggie was feeling guilty and with it the need to take care of me, and honestly, who was I to argue? If she thought I didn’t need looking after, she’d leave. That would be counterproductive to my big picture.
I listened to Maggie moving around the kitchen, opening and closing the refrigerator, washing dishes. While I waited for her to return, I looked around at the blank, egg-shell walls. It didn’t really bother me before because I only came here to sleep and eat breakfast, but now that I was actually spending time here with someone, the whole place felt sterile. My mom always said a home isn’t really a home until you make memories in it. I suppose this would be the first memory I made here.
But I didn’t want to make memories in this apartment. Maybe after I got back, Ryan could get me in to look at his sister’s place.
Maggie returned and dropped down on the couch. “Do you want to finish watching the game? Maybe a movie? Or do you want to go to bed?” Of course, my brain stuck on bed. She meant sleep and separately, but instead, I was imagining other things people did in bed
. “Simon?”
“I’m not tired yet. A movie or the game sound fine.”
She nodded, picking up my remote control and opened Netflix, scrolling through the options. A movie meant we wouldn’t really be talking, but we’d be together, and that was good enough for me.
Maggie
I
’m a failure. I was supposed to be waking Simon up every two hours, but I only did it once. I slept right through my first alarm and only heard the second one. I must have been really tired not to have heard it. That, or just really comfortable. Simon and I ended up squeezing onto his couch together. I have never actually spent the night with a man. I always left after sex. When I came here last night, I assumed he’d sleep in his bed, and I’d sleep on the couch and go in and wake him up. But half-way through the movie, we stretched out on the couch together.
It felt good to be held, not stifling or awkward. We fit together perfectly, and I always thought that was a myth. I realized now that I never felt comfortable doing the cuddling after sex thing because I never fit so well with my partner. Simon and I felt like one being wrapped together on the couch. I was perfectly content with my head in the crook of his shoulder, our legs twined together, my arm splayed across his chest. It felt ... right. I realized that Simon mattered to me. What I didn’t know was what to do about it.
Given the state of his apartment, it was obvious he hadn’t settled in. For someone so put together, everything always in place, it seemed at odds that he would be living in chaos. Me? Yeah, I’d been in my apartment for years and still had boxes left to unpack. I had just shoved them into corners, and now they held stuff on top. I guess if I hadn’t unpacked those boxes, I didn’t really need the stuff inside—old books and DVDs, photo albums, probably some wall art in there, knickknacks, stuff like that. I suppose I should have gone through them, and I would. At some point.
