by Lily Kate
He takes the challenge gracefully. “We have more funds, more resources, more of everything. By buying the inn, we can grow together instead of competing for guests—”
“You think you have more of everything,” I correct quietly. “I might be some country bumpkin, as your daughter would say, but I’ve run a successful, flourishing inn for nearly a decade with Emily. Believe it or not, I’m a businesswoman—you don’t have to explain these things to me. I understand competition.”
“Then you’ll understand why I chose to buy the already successful, flourishing inn, instead of building my own next to it and running you out of business.”
“I would’ve preferred to see you run me out of business. Admit it, Tyler, you would’ve made a different business decision if I hadn’t been involved. You wouldn’t have bought the inn if you weren’t trying to win me over, would you?”
His silence is enough.
“No. You would’ve tried to squash us to the ground. Is that why Fletcher’s here? To try and convince you not to be an idiot? Am I in the right ballpark, or do I just not understand?”
“Maggie—”
“Answer me.”
“Yes,” he says, and it’s a quiet roar. “Yes, okay? I felt bad. I see how much you love the inn, how Mila loves it. I couldn’t let them take that away from you no matter what.”
“That’s a nice sentiment,” I say, my voice fading to nothing but a bitter remnant. “But I’d prefer you had confidence in me. You see, Tyler, Mila and I would be fine—we’re survivors. When things don’t go our way, we figure out a new way. We don’t just throw money at the problem.”
“Maggie—don’t be unreasonable!”
“I’m not being unreasonable!” I yank open the door to the cab. “I loved you because I thought you respected me, Tyler. My mind, my independence, my life. Mila and I don’t need you swooping in to save the day. I appreciate the thought, but we wanted a family. Partners in crime.” I cringe as I glance down at my jumpsuit. “I’m sorry, Tyler, but this isn’t going to work for me.”
“Maggie, don’t go.”
I shut the door behind me, but the window is rolled down, and I can hear Tyler calling after me, even as I instruct the taxi to take off toward the inn.
“This happened before,” I tell Tyler, as he leans in the window. “You took care of me, and then you left. And I was helpless.”
The taxi begins to roll forward, and Tyler walks with it.
Tears prick my eyes and my bottom lip trembles. “I won’t be helpless again.”
Chapter 30
MAGGIE
I curse and roll over, planting a pillow solidly over my head.
The sun is not welcome here this morning. Today should be a day of doom and gloom, of funnel clouds and high winds, of thunder and lightning—then, it might match my mood.
Eventually, I roll over and force one eye open while glaring at the crack in the shades. That crack has never bothered me before—in fact, I’ve always sort of liked that it gives me a peek into the day ahead, but not this time.
Mercifully, as if the god of the skies is listening somewhere, a cloud rolls across my window, dimming the sunlight. Good.
With a sigh, I glance toward the mirror above my dresser, alarmed to find a strange person staring back at me. Then I realize it’s myself; a very pathetic version of me. I not only look like a complete and utter mess, but I look like a bona fide criminal.
Mascara is caked on my eyes, and my orange jumpsuit is sprawled across my bed. It’s all I could do to crawl out of it and wiggle my way into bed in lingerie that was meant to be torn off by eager hands. Tyler’s hands.
I look down at my lacy new bra, the cute new set that I’d purchased just for the occasion, and begin to unhook it. I stumble my way to the shower, leaving the lingerie piled in an unwanted heap on the floor. Poor Lelia—I don’t even have the strength to clean up after myself today. I’ll warn her to leave my room alone.
Warm water crashes over my shoulders, my back, my tired and worn legs. My muscles feel exhausted for no real reason. I suds up, feeling sore between my legs—remembering yesterday evening with a flash of heat.
That’s all it takes to unleash the sobs—the same ones I thought I’d cried out last night. I’d finally let myself go. I loved him—probably love him still—and he just doesn’t understand. I can’t be dependent on him like before. For Mila.
I steel myself to face more pain as I turn around and let my cracked makeup flow in rivulets, washing down my cheeks, black rivers over my breasts, my stomach, my thighs, until it disappears in a swirl down the drain.
As I battle to squeeze shampoo into my hand and lather the hairspray from my locks, I fight back the bit of remorse I’ve been feeling since Claire knocked on my door last night.
Emily had come to visit first, several times, but I’d sent her away. Then Claire had arrived, apologizing through the door and begging me to talk to Tyler.
I’d sent her away, too, though I felt guilty about ruining her night. I’d have to call her and apologize later, same to Emily and Luca—for leaving them in such a tizzy. I’m sure they’d left hundreds of messages on my phone, but I’d shut it off after Tyler’s eleventh missed call.
He’d been the last person to knock on my door. A simple thing—two taps—and then a gentle call of my name. Margaret. I had feigned sleeping, holding in my sobs until his footsteps faded into the distance.
Hot tears mix with shampoo, and I taste the combination on my lips as I rinse my hair. I have to pick Mila up shortly, and I can’t imagine my mother will let the sight of me go unnoticed. Mila will sense something is wrong, and I don’t want to upset her, either.
My spine shoots rigid straight as I realize I might very well run into Tyler at my mother’s house. Surely, he’ll be headed there to pick up Jessica soon—if he hasn’t already.
I can’t bear the thought of facing him yet, and I absolutely can’t handle the thought of a confrontation in front of my mother. Slipping out of the shower, I pick up the phone and flick it on, ignoring the missed messages and phone calls.
I hit dial on my mother’s contact. “Hi, mother. I’m going to be a little late today. Tyler might be coming earlier...”
“You’re not together?”
“Something came up, and I have to take care of a few things at the inn.”
“Is everything alright, Margaret?”
“Yes, gotta go.”
I hang up and towel off. Still naked, I slide between the sheets and close my eyes, willing sleep to still my thoughts.
Like last night, sleep is an elusive bugger, and after forty minutes of rolling around, I find myself staring at the ceiling, turning the same thought over and over in my head. Something Claire had said.
“Listen to him,” she’d said. “It’s not his fault.”
I can’t quite figure out what she meant by that—surely this is all his fault. He chose to swoop in and buy the inn right out from under our noses, and he chose to keep it a secret from me for weeks. He chose a path that he knew would hurt me.
Still, there’s a tiny piece of my brain that’s wondering if I overreacted a teensy bit. Yes, he’d kept a secret from me. Yes, he’d pulled a Superman act that I didn’t fully appreciate, but hadn’t he done it out of the goodness of his heart? Hadn’t he been thinking of me and, more importantly, Mila, when he’d done it?
Finally, sufficient time has passed to make me late in picking up Mila. I’ve made up my mind. I will be an adult about this, and I will confront Tyler. I’ll apologize if I’ve jumped to any conclusions, and I will hear him out. Then, I’ll make my decisions.
With my plan firmly in place, I dress in jeans and a sweatshirt, gather my purse and keys, and attempt a perky disposition as I scramble downstairs for a cup of coffee.
I find Jax at the kitchen counter, as always, and at the sight of my face, he pulls an extra few shots of espresso and makes a specialty cappuccino.
“Do I look that bad?” I ask him, w
incing.
“Emily is worried about you.”
“Tell her I’m fine,” I say, “and I’ll be right back and explain everything. I have to get Mila.”
“Maggie,” Jax says, hesitating. “I’m sorry.”
“Really, it’s fine.”
“For what it’s worth, he’s gone already.”
“Who?” I feign innocence.
“Tyler. He left early this morning.”
“Oh,” I say, confused. “Okay, thanks.”
A weight is lifted from my chest as I realize I won’t run into Tyler this morning. Not at my mother’s, not before I’m ready to talk to him. Maybe, for old time’s sake, I’ll come around with the lavender towels late this evening and suggest we talk.
Maybe, there’s hope still.
Chapter 31
MAGGIE
My mother and Mila are sharing tea and scones when I arrive at her house.
Mila’s decked out in a long pearl necklace and has a pinky raised as she sips chamomile tea, and my mother is slicing the scone into bite sized bits and instructing her not to dunk it in the cup. I raise my eyebrows as I approach the table behind Mila, surprising her with a quick kiss to the neck.
“Mom!” Mila squirms, sloshing a bit of tea over the side of her cup and onto the tablecloth. “That tickles!”
My mother frowns at me, but ignores my interruption. “Mila, honey, set your tea down before you move around. You’re spilling all over the place.”
“My fault, mom,” I say, not bothering to comment on the fact my mother is probably trying to instill something in Mila that hasn’t sunk into me. Manners? Class? I’ll never know because I don’t want to have this conversation. “Thanks again for watching the girls. I really appreciate it.”
“Mila, honey,” my mother says. “Would you mind excusing yourself from the table and gathering your things? I want to talk to your mother for a moment.”
I feel the same dread I felt as a teenager when my mother would be waiting up, her eagle eyes watching as I pulled into the driveway two minutes behind my curfew time. Ready with a warning, a lecture, a threat.
“Please excuse me,” Mila chirps, bustling up and out of her seat. As she runs out of the room, she pauses at the door. “Thanks for the tea, grandma.”
My mother bows her head. “You’re welcome.”
I watch, proud of my little munchkin.
Once she’s gone, my mother turns to me, and says, “You’re welcome.”
“Thank you?” I say, trying to remember if I hadn’t already thanked her. “I really appreciate you watching the girls,” I repeat. “It was very nice of you.”
“I meant for instilling manners in her.”
“You think Mila’s manners have nothing to do with me, her mother, the lady she sees every day?”
“You didn’t exactly behave yourself like an angel when you were her age.”
“I still don’t behave like an angel. Is that what this is about? Are you trying to turn Mila into your little angel?” I give a shake of my head. “Look, I think Mila is perfect—she’s my daughter, and I love her. But if you expect perfection, you’ll be disappointed.”
“Are you talking about Mila?”
“I’m talking about anyone,” I say, pushing thoughts of Tyler away. For a brief moment, I thought he’d been perfect. Perfect for me, at least, and I’d been wrong—again. “I don’t want to have this conversation—”
“You never want to have this conversation.” My mother lowers her voice as the sound of Mila getting her things together comes nearer. “Why not? Afraid of what you might find?”
I stand, push my chair in. “Thanks again, mom. I’m sure the girls had fun.”
“What about you?”
“Excuse me?”
“You asked me to host a sleepover so you could have one of your own.” My mother’s disapproving gaze meets mine. “Well, did you have fun at the party?”
“It was fine,” I say, shortly.
“Then why did Tyler pick up Jessica so early?”
“How early?”
“Seven. Said he had a flight to catch.”
My heart thumps. “What?”
“A flight. Hence the reason he picked her up at the crack of dawn—he apologized and said something had come up.”
“Okay.”
“You didn’t know.” A smug look settles on my mother’s face as she studies me. She must see something reflected back that tells her I’m not ready for this game, however, because her expression falters. “Margaret? What happened?”
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” I ask, quiet. “He’s gone now, so I hope you’re happy.”
“Margaret.”
I stand, pushing my chair in. “Thanks again, we’ll be going now—”
“Margaret,” she says again, more firmly. “What happened?”
“Why do you care? You’ve been rooting for this from day one. You’re right, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? You’re right. I shouldn’t have given Tyler a second chance,” I blurt. “I shouldn’t have fallen in love with him the first time, much less the second. It’s his fault I turned out to be a horrible person—that’s what you think, isn’t it?”
“This has nothing to do with Tyler!” My mother stands, her chair scratching backward. “This has to do with you. You’re my daughter.”
“Yes, I know I’m a disappointment to you.”
To my surprise, my mother stops. Her mouth parts, and then nothing comes out.
I shake my head, knowing I’d always been right, but not wanting her to confirm it so thoroughly.
“I’m sorry,” I say, with a shrug of my shoulders. “I tried to be good enough for you, and it just didn’t work.”
Mila appears in the doorway, and a truce is called—as it always is—when she’s in the room. If it weren’t for her, I wonder if my mother would even bother inviting me for the holidays.
“Bye, Grandma!” Mila bounces over and plants a kiss on my mother’s cheek before turning to grab my hand. “Ready, mom? Maybe me and Jess can play today. We got halfway through our game when her dad came this morning. He said they were going to her grandma’s house.”
“Grandma’s house?”
“You know, Tyler’s grandma—er, mom.”
“We’ll see, honey,” I say, pulling her close to my side and holding on for dear life. “Let’s go home.”
As we leave through the front door, I feel my mother following us, watching as we climb down the front path. And, as we slide into the car and pull away, she closes the door behind her.
Chapter 32
MAGGIE
We drive back to the inn, and there’s a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
Never mind the now-day-old Halloween decorations that will need to be refreshed for Thanksgiving, or the Christmas decorations waiting for us in the closet. It’s a beautiful day outside, albeit cloudy, and normally I’d haul Mila, Emily, and anyone on staff outside to help decorate.
Today, the idea of hanging Christmas lights is exhausting.
Everything sounds exhausting. I just want to go back to bed and sleep until next Halloween, wishing for a redo of this one.
Mila chatters nonstop as we enter the inn, and when she asks to find Jax for a cookie, I barely remember nodding and dropping her off at the kitchen. While she settles onto a bar stool, I make my way to the front of the inn and find Emily waiting, hesitant, at reception.
I stand before her, sensing her unease as I rest my hands on the desk. “I’m sorry.”
She relaxes, her shoulders curling forward as she stretches her arms across the desk, then decides that won’t work. Running around to the other side, she envelops me in a hug and pulls my head to her shoulder. “Don’t apologize; we were just worried about you.”
“Tyler...” I don’t need to finish.
“He checked out first thing this morning,” Emily says, her voice painfully soft. “I’m so sorry. What happened last night?”
I shake
my head, my throat too constricted to speak.
“Is it true?” she presses. “Did he buy the inn? Claire came by last night. She was worried about you, too.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper again. “I know I shouldn’t have ignored you both, but...”
“Hey, we understand. We love you, you know that.”
Those words, the words I’d longed to hear from my mother first, and then more recently from Tyler, stung. They stung in a way that hurt so good, a way that felt right. A way that made me wonder why love is such a fickle thing—so hard to find in so many people.
I cling to Emily, the tears coming in torrents now, staining her shirt. “He’s gone,” I tell her. “He just up and left. I was going to apologize, and—”
“Apologize for what?” Instantly on the defensive, Emily pulls me back to look at me. “I’m confused—I thought he hurt you.”
“He did, but I overreacted, and—”
“You’re too kind, honey.” Emily pulls me back to her chest. “Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be okay. I know it won’t be for a while, and in the meantime, just rest your head here and cry.”
So, I do.
I cry for some time, then retire to my room while Emily and Jax promise to entertain Mila for the day. I bring my phone with me, glancing at the blinking messages, and decide I can’t bear to hear his words again. Half-hearted explanations, a mangled apology—none of it changes the fact that he left.
When the going got difficult, he left. That’s what Tyler does—he has fun until it’s not fun anymore, and then he escapes to his perfect little New York life. The life without complication, without messiness, without Mila and me.
I should have known better, but I didn’t. I risked my heart again, and I lost it.
I do a hard reset on my phone. I’ve started over before with a helluva lot less than I have now, and I’m positive I can do it again.
As his messages, texts, his very contact information vanishes with the click of a button, I expect to feel a sense of relief. A sense of hope. A sense of...something.
