“Should you be up then?”
“I can’t spend the whole day in bed.”
“Why not?” Of course she could. If that’s what she needed, then that’s exactly what she should do.
“Are you kidding me? Look at this room? Look at the mess! Drew, we need to figure out what the hell we’re going to do in here and start putting it back together.”
Reaching out, I grabbed her shoulders to hold her steady. Seeing her get worked up was putting colour back in her cheeks, but I wasn’t convinced that pissing her off just to see her cheeks turn pink was the best prescription she could have. “Just breathe, Mags. I’ve got it under control,” I half lied. It wasn’t a full lie. I knew what I wanted to do with this room. I mean, I had an idea of what I wanted it to look like; I was just clueless when it came how to actually go about it.
“You’ve got it under control?” She sounded sceptical. I couldn’t blame her. Not really. Last time I’d attempted DIY it’d taken four years before Maggie finally lost her shit, gave up nagging me and just called a plasterer to come and finish what I’d started.
“Why don’t you go put some pants on and then we can have some breakfast and I’ll show you what I’m thinking?”
“You have a plan?”
“Why do you sound so surprised?”
“A lot of things are surprising me these days,” Maggie mumbled as she headed towards the stairs. I don’t think I was supposed to hear that comment. And I definitely don’t think her words were designed to cut, but they did. Deep and painfully so. It just reaffirmed my greatest fear. She was here. She was living in our home, sleeping in our bed, but we still had a long way to go. I had a lot of work to do if we had any hopes of making it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
MAGGIE
I’d seen the way Drew was looking at me. I couldn’t miss it even if I tried. He looked like he wanted to lick every inch of my legs. What was worse;, I wanted him to. When I’d woken up, the house was eerily silent. After getting up and ducking into the bathroom to take care of business, I dared to open the door and head downstairs. He was nowhere to be seen. His car keys were missing from the hook and the front door was locked. Disappointed, I filled a glass with water and swallowed down some painkillers. I had a throbbing headache, one that had woken me a few times through the night. That’s when I spotted him. Curled up and cramped in the chair, he looked uncomfortable, and just seeing him like that made me feel even worse. I was stretched out, warm and cosy in our king size bed while he snored, half sitting in the chair that I knew from experience was as uncomfortable as hell.
Back upstairs I snuggled under the covers and tried to think. The whole room was spinning and I felt like I wanted to vomit. It was like being sea sick but both feet were on dry land. It was horrible. Putting a pillow over my head, I laid back and tried to turn my brain off. Maybe that was the problem. Lately, even when I’d been sleeping, I felt like I was thinking about everything all at once. It was too much. Too many thoughts. I needed a break. Or wine. Lots and lots of wine.
I don’t know how long I fell back asleep for, but when I woke up, the little men inside my head mining for wisdom had given up and knocked off for the day, and I felt like I might actually be able to function. Sitting up, I spotted the chair beside the bed and smiled. It should bother me that Drew had spent the night there, watching me like a creeper but, if anything, it did the opposite. It made me smile and my heavy heart felt just a little bit lighter. As the early morning events came back to me, I remembered lying on the kitchen floor, wrapped in Drew’s arms, opening my eyes only to see the pure panic in his. I both loved and hated that I’d caused him that stress. I loved it because it meant, even though we were going through a whole heap of shit right now, he still cared. I had no idea what our future held, but I had to admit, even the idea that we had a future was a good thing. An uplifting thing. Something two weeks ago was nothing more than a pipe dream.
After folding the blanket, I headed downstairs again, this time with food on my mind. I don’t know why but I was starving. Finding Drew sitting, legs crossed on the cold concrete wasn’t what I was expecting, but there he was, deep in concentration. For a minute I just stood there, quietly watching as he scribbled. It could’ve been a design or it could’ve been the square root of pi, I had no idea but he was completely caught up in whatever it was.
When there was a pause in his notes, I spoke up. “What are you doing?” As the words came out I barely recognised my own voice. It was thick with sleep and raspy. It sounded as though I’d spent the night chain smoking a pack of cigarettes, downing shots of vodka and singing karaoke. Definitely not what I’d been doing, but if I had, it would explain a hell of a lot; from the hangover I was fighting to the manly voice.
When Drew turned around and looked at me, I regretted not getting dressed properly before coming down. I hadn’t been thinking. For so long I’d walked around our house in too-tight, holey or worn pants and not thought twice about it. I was home. No one saw me, so what did it matter? Right now I had the answer. Right now it mattered. It mattered a hell of a lot. Silently I watched as Drew’s hungry gaze started from the tips of my toes and crawled up my legs. When he licked his lips, I shifted my weight and squeezed my thighs together. While I wasn’t ready to jump back into bed with him, at least I wasn’t mentally, physically my body was reacting to his in the way it always had. He could soak my panties with a look, a look like the one he was giving me right now. Damn it was frustrating sometimes.
“Hey. How’d you sleep?” he asked as he swallowed, and I watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat beneath the stubble that lined his cheeks and neck.
“Better than you, I imagine. I know from experience, that chair isn’t comfortable.”
“Yeah, it’s not great.”
“If you knew that, wanna tell me why you stayed there then?” The look on his face was one of embarrassment. I didn’t mean to call him out and make him feel like shit, but I was curious. It was overkill even for Drew.
“I just wanted to be close in case you needed me.”
That was not the answer I was expecting. Not in a million years was that the answer I was expecting to come from Drew’s mouth. It rattled me but I felt like I couldn’t show him just how much. Instead, I thanked him for looking after me, and when he offered me an escape, I scampered off like someone had lit my arse on fire. Upstairs, tucked safely behind the closed door, I sat on the edge of the bed, stared at the beige carpet and picked at the thread dangling from the bottom of his shirt. I had no idea what to do and no one to ask. I felt like I was completely alone. I know Mum and Kristie were there and always would be, but this was one leap I had to take for me.
Getting dressed in some old clothes, I stuffed my feet into my runners and tied the laces. Even though I was still feeling average, or worse than average, I wasn’t going to let that slow me. I couldn’t afford to. If I showed weakness, Drew would wrap me in cotton wool and smother me with kindness. I couldn’t deal with that right now.
Making my way downstairs, I could smell coffee and something else. Something that made my stomach grumble loudly. “Smells great.”
“Don’t get too excited. It’s just ham and cheese croissants,” Drew brushed off my compliment.
As he moved around the kitchen, I watched him work. For years I wondered if he even knew where the cutlery was kept, but here he was working the kitchen like a boss. I was impressed. When he handed me a plate with a flaky croissant with gooey cheese oozing out, my stomach groaned.
“Someone’s hungry.” Drew smiled as he sat down in the chair opposite. “So, Mags. Tell me the truth. You feeling any better?”
It was such a loaded question. One I don’t think he was aware just how dangerous the answer could be. Instead of answering with some bullshit half-arsed answer, I took the easy way out. I stuffed a forkful of hot pastry in my mouth, the cheese burning my tongue.
Needing to direct his attention from me, I asked about the lounge room
. He got up and grabbed a pile of papers from the kitchen counter and when he returned, he was wearing a smile I hadn’t seen in a long time. It was one of those open, honest, hopeful smiles. It was one I loved. It was one I missed. Dreadfully.
“So this is what I was thinking.” For the next twenty minutes I don’t think he paused long enough to take a breath. He was more excited than the time we’d taken off for a dirty weekend to the Hunter Valley wineries. We didn’t even see a winery or leave the cabin for dinner.
His idea was awesome. Instead of filling the room with furniture that we pieced together, he wanted to build an entertainment unit that filled the whole wall. It would house the TV, all the shit that went with it as well as being a full bookshelf and cabinets to hide away all that stuff that we had that we probably didn’t need but couldn’t bring ourselves to toss.
When he finally came to the end of his sales spiel I only had two questions. One I was too afraid to ask. So, I played it safe. “What about the lounge?”
“What about it?”
“I hate it.”
“You do?”
“Yep.”
“Have you always…”
“Yep.”
“Why didn’t you say something? We’ve had it for what, five years?”
“About that.”
“Then why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because you loved it.”
“But you didn’t.”
“It didn’t matter.”
DREW
“It didn’t matter?” I repeated, hoping I’d misheard her.
“Drew, you loved that couch. As soon as you spotted it in the shop you wanted it.”
“So what? If you didn’t like it you should’ve said something.” Was this woman freaking serious? Could she really have hated it, but gone along with it just to avoid an argument. After a moment to consider the question, I realised I already knew the answer. And fuck me, did it piss me off.
“It’s only a couch, Drew. It doesn’t matter.”
“But it does now?”
I was an arsehole. It had come out way harsher than I intended but she’d caught me off guard. I knew Maggie wasn’t decisive and she was a people pleaser, but I never even considered she’d lumped me in with that bunch. To hear that she saw me the same way as everyone else just pissed me off.
“No. No it doesn’t. We’ll keep the couch. I’ll just find some new cushions….”
Standing up from the table, I pushed my chair in causing it to bang the table, splashing coffee all over the timber table top. “Stop, Maggie. For fuck’s sake. Just stop it.”
“Stop what?” Her eyes went wide as she tried to make herself smaller.
“If you want to say something, Maggie, spit it out. You hate the couch. Say you hate it.” I heard myself ranting but my frustration was at boiling point.
“Okay.” Maggie’s voice came out as a breathy whisper. I frigging hated it. She needed to grow a pair. Stand up. Make herself heard. If she wanted something, she needed to ask for it. Demand it. If she didn’t like something, then say so. When she added, “I don’t like the couch.” I took it as a win. A small one, but a win nevertheless.
Sucking in a steadying breath, I tried to rein in my anger. Yelling at her, taking it out on her wouldn’t help anyone, let alone Maggie. “Okay. What is it you don’t like about it?”
For a moment, Maggie looked at me with wide, almost frightened eyes. I knew I was pushing but I had to. If she was going to ever break free of this mould she’d bent and twisted herself to fitting, then I had to be the one to help her fight her way out. Even if it meant she had to fight me every step of the way.
“It’s ugly.”
What? I freaking loved it and she was saying it was ugly. Biting my tongue, I asked her what else.
“It’s uncomfortable. It’s not long enough to lie on and stretch out but it’s too wide to sit on and lean against the back and still have your feet touch the floor.”
I had to give her that. It wasn’t the best designed couch, too short too wide, but the leather was soft like butter and it had really wide arms.
“What do you want to do then?”
“Can we… can we get rid of it and buy something else?” Even though she’d hesitated and stumbled, eventually she’d got out what she needed. Even if it wasn’t in the budget, even if I was in love with the one we already had, the moment Maggie asked, I knew we were getting a new couch. And it wasn’t like I so much cared about the couch itself, it was the fact that for five years Maggie had put up with something she hated and not said a word.
“Of course we can,” I offered with a soft smile.
Impressed with Maggie’s strength, I felt like I owed it to her. Stretching my hand out, I risked being rejected as I stood there, waiting for her to trust me enough to take it. When her frozen fingers met mine I shivered.
“Damn, Mags. Your hands are freezing.”
“Yeah,” she agreed, quietly looking away embarrassed. When she attempted to pull back, I tightened my grip. There was no way I was letting her run now. There would be no retreating into her shell and hoping no one would find her. I’d always find her. I’d always look for her. She just needed to learn to trust that.
“Come with me.” Gently, I pulled her from her seat and led her into the lounge room and sat her in the ugly, uncomfortable couch. “So, what do you really think of the entertainment unit idea? And be honest. If you hate it, just tell me. I promise, I won’t be upset.” Well, I probably would be but I’d hide it.
“I like it.”
“Really?” I was sceptical. I had every reason to be.
“I do. I just have one question.”
I’d take it. At least if she was asking questions, she was considering it and thinking things through. “What’s that?”
“Who’s going to build it?” As soon as she spat it out, she clamped her hands over her mouth.
I let out a loud bubble of laughter. Her question had broken through the heaviness of the morning and dropped us right back in reality. And while I should’ve been offended by her lack of faith in my carpentry abilities, I couldn’t be. She was spot on. Even I didn’t think I could pull this off.
“I’m not sure yet. I thought about doing it…”
“But…”
“I want it done this year, so I was going to see if I could find someone. I thought if we designed what we want, then they could tell us if it’s doable or not.”
“So you’re going to get someone in to build it?”
“Is that a problem?”
“No. No problem at all.”
I thought I saw relief in her eyes, but didn’t call her out on it. Dealing with Maggie at the moment was like living with Bambi. I had to know when to push and when to let her retreat and recharge. It was as exhausting as hell, but I knew her and I knew in the end, she was worth it. All I had to do was convince her of that.
“So, what do we do now?” Maggie asked, looking around the bare bones of the room.
“Stand up.”
Once Maggie was on her feet, I shifted her out of the way, pulled my phone from my pocket and started clicking photos of the couch in question. Five minutes later, I had it listed online for sale.
“Did you really just do that?” Maggie questioned, slightly stunned.
“Do what?”
“Try and sell the couch?”
“Yeah. You don’t want it here, so it needs to go. We might as well see if we can get some cash for it.”
“Who are you, Andrew Sanford?” Maggie asked, eyeing me warily.
Without hesitation, I answered her simply. Honestly. “I’m the man who loves you. The man who wants to spend his life with you. The man who fucked up and is on his knees, begging for a second chance. I’m the man who wants to give you the world. The man who wants to stand beside you as you make all your dreams come true. And I’m the man, Maggie, who will move heaven and earth to help that happen.”
“Drew…”
“D
on’t cry, sweetheart.” It physically hurt me to see the tears running down her face. I couldn’t stop myself. Nothing could’ve stopped me. Without warning, I stepped towards her, pulling her hard against my chest, clutching her head against my shoulder as I traced circles on her back.
“You can’t… you can’t… say shit like that to me!” She tried to scold me through the sniffles.
“Why not, princess?”
At my question, she pushed back against my chest, forcing me to let go as she put distance between us. I didn’t like it. Not one little bit.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
MAGGIE
Everything was too much. I needed air. And space. And time. And I knew Drew wouldn’t understand that. I didn’t even know how to ask for it, which was the worst part. He was already pissed about the couch and, really, the couch wasn’t the issue here. I was. I was the problem between us. It’d taken me a long time to figure that out. Too long.
I stepped back and pulled the tie from my hair before piling it back up in a messy bun on top of my head. I was stalling. I knew it and Drew knew it. He was standing there, with this look on his face like someone had just kicked his puppy. It was horrible. And I hated that I was the one that put it there but, right now, I had to worry about me. Put me first. It was like I could hear Kristie’s voice echoing through my brain, reminding me that it wasn’t just okay to be selfish once in a while. It was necessary.
When Drew took a step towards me, I stepped backwards, in the same movement lifting my hand up. “Please, Drew. Just give me a second.”
“For what?”
Even though I knew this moment was coming, it had been coming for years, it didn’t mean I was ready. I doubted I ever would be. But I’d been cornered, and backing out now wasn’t an option. Now was my moment. My chance. I couldn’t ignore that.
When I hesitated, Drew pushed. “For what, Maggie? What? What’s wrong now?”
Broken Dreams Boxset Page 26