by Ellie Hall
He knew what was going to happen. The moment was caught on film.
He knew what it looked like—not a tame first date like Maggie had intended.
He knew what Maggie would think, what his coach would think, the commissioner, and the world when all he wanted to do was to shout from the rooftops how much he loved a princess named Maggie.
Everything was ruined.
Blair sat back in her chair wearing an impish grin.
He didn’t have anything to say to her that didn’t involve four-letter words; that would only cause a scene, deepening the case against him.
Declan pushed up from the table, tossing his manners out the door, and searched the dining room for Maggie. She was nowhere to be seen.
He tried texting and calling. No answer.
He summoned the car to bring him to his house. She wasn’t there.
Staring out the window into the harbor, he felt lost at sea. He regretted going along with the date. He should have told Maggie that he had feelings for her. But she put on the brakes. Coach Hammer gave him an ultimatum, he didn’t want to ruin his best friends’ careers, but couldn’t he have it both ways?
He had to talk to her. Where could she be?
After doing a search on his phone, he learned it was the official fluffernutter day. Marshmallow fluff and peanut butter made him think of desserts, which made him think of cupcakes.
Declan had a sudden idea of where Maggie might be. He had his driver bring him to the neighborhood where they’d seen the bakery hosting a little kid’s birthday party when they’d first started touring the city. He hoped it was open.
He hopped out of the car at a traffic light and hurried the rest of the way. The strumming of guitar and singing filtered from down the street. Low light sparkled from inside. The bakery was hosting an open mic night and people were perched everywhere, watching and nodding their heads to the beat of the music. He scanned the room for Maggie and spotted her in the corner. She’d wrapped her arms around her chest in a hug and her eyes were damp.
He strode inside and reached for her hand. “I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to find you,” he said.
She looked up and blinked at him a few times. She must not have heard him over the music. He wanted to talk but didn’t want to be rude to the performers and patrons. He leaned in, catching her sugar-sweet scent. “Can we go outside?” he asked.
She had a mug of tea and he bought one as well. They sat at a vacant table just outside the bakery.
He gripped her hand, not sure whether to start with an apology or explanation.
She spoke first. “Growing up, my favorite thing was holding hands. It made me feel connected, less alone.” She gazed at their joined hands. “My parents called me Lefty. Partially because I’m left-handed, but I started to think it was because I was always to the left of what they thought was cool—I liked nature, reading, baking.”
“I think you’re cool just the way you are.”
“They were chasing fame. I felt like an alien. Like I didn’t belong. They never included me, forgot birthdays, holidays. They’d travel, vacation, go to dinners, and they left me behind. I was basically raised by nannies. Most of them were nice, but it wasn’t the same. For a while, I was hoping I was adopted. No such luck, but I was always so afraid I’d turn out like them. They’re these self-obsessed, selfish, social climbers who wanted nothing to do with me and who take pleasure in humiliating people.”
“You’re not your parents, Maggie,” Declan said.
“I used to try to make them like me. When that didn’t work, instead, I just faded into the background.” Her eyes pinched like she held back tears.
Declan wanted to show the world how amazing she was, but he knew her well enough to understand that wasn’t what she wanted. Instead, he listened to her story. That was what she needed.
“On my tenth birthday, they hosted a surprise party. I was shocked, delighted. But it turned out they’d hired a team of clowns, knowing that I was deathly afraid. I know it’s irrational—” She shook her head.
“I love to laugh, but don’t think clowns are funny. You’re not alone.”
“But they caught the ordeal on film and used it as one of their big media blitzes. It has been one of the most-watched videos on their site, ever. Despite that, I was always waiting for them. Waiting for them to acknowledge me. Waiting for them to love me. Instead, they used me as a pawn to advance their business. They’ve been straight up mean to me, insulting my appearance, my life choices...” She gazed into her half-filled cup of tea. “They don’t even know me.”
Declan tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “You’re right, but you are someone worth knowing. You’re beautiful, fun, smart...I could go on. You’re the kind of person I want to be friends with. More than friends with.”
She glanced up at him and then dipped her head. In that split second, he saw the joy on her face, but she quickly hid it.
“Maggie, I want you to trust me. What you saw back at the restaurant with Blair was no different than what your parents did.”
“What? Like ignore me?” she snapped. “It was clear the two of you belonged together. She was tall, beautiful, and well connected. You kissed.”
“What?” Declan asked, aghast. “You set us up. No, I meant she kissed me because she saw me glancing over my shoulder at you every two seconds. I told Blair I’d rather you be sitting in her chair. She didn’t like that and had planted a photographer—probably to get a shot of us together and she got what she wanted. But that wasn’t what I wanted.”
“Then why’d you do it? Why’d you let her kiss you.”
“I couldn’t very well throw punches. You’ve been teaching me to be a gentleman. If you’d stayed long enough or hadn’t arranged the thing in the first place, that would’ve been us at the table. Please believe me. Please trust me.”
He searched her face, but like the first time they’d met, she avoided his eyes.
“I know it’s hard to open up. It’s not easy for me. But I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to mess things up. Please come home.” His phone beeped in his pocket, but he ignored it, giving Maggie his full attention. The phone rang and he sighed, glancing at the caller’s name on the screen.
“Oh, no. It’s the hospice.” He’d been visiting his aunt every day since his return to Dublin and was able to get regular updates from the doctor. It was his understanding that they’d only call if she’d taken a turn.
He answered the call and the night closed around him, suffocating him. He turned to Maggie. “She’s gone.”
Without thinking, he rushed to the waiting car. Maggie got in and held his hand the whole ride there. He knew it was coming. It was inevitable. Every time he left the hospice building, he knew on a rational level that might be his last time, but it still didn’t prepare him for the fact that he’d never see his aunt again.
The next hours were a fog of tears and heartache, signing papers, and gathering up Aunt Sheila’s sparse belongings.
Maggie remained by him, praying, and being the exact steadying presence that he needed. However, like a trigger, memories of losing Siobhan dredged up old emotions and threatened to swallow him whole.
Over the next days, life gradually came back into focus as Declan made arrangements for his aunt’s funeral service. Maggie was a quiet partner, there to support him, but she was also doing her job as an etiquette teacher. The experiential finishing school portion likely didn’t have a grading system for funerals, but he tried to carry it off with grace.
It didn’t matter how well he did because, at the same time, the headmistress at Blancbourg took issue with the photograph of Declan and Blair kissing that had been splashed all over society pages, gossip magazines, and the internet.
Apparently, Maggie’s parents, of VJ Media, used the footage they had of Declan and Maggie, positioned it against the image of Declan and Blair, and generated a stir among people who followed that kind of thing, along with Coach Hammer.
His career would soon be over. Maggie would leave. He was right back where he started, lost and alone in Dublin.
Chapter 13
Maggie
Everything had fallen apart. Maggie hadn’t wanted to set Declan up on the date with Blair—a society woman and aspiring actress from the UK. However, she knew it was the only way to put distance between them. To find him someone who wasn’t a nobody like she was that no one wanted.
Her parents reminded her of that fact when they’d called and did so again with the photos and articles they’d manufactured with headlines like Pro ballplayer on probation but still playing the field—and that was just one of many they had circulating. Beneath it were images of she and Declan together as well as him and Blair. It was made to look like there was a love triangle and he’d passed her over. As always, she was the loser and he was a womanizing jerk. Blair stole the spotlight. It would ruin Declan’s career and likely affect his teammates if what he’d said about his coach’s ultimatum was true.
It was too late for them because as soon as his time in the Blancbourg program was over, they’d probably never see each other again. More than anything, she didn’t want to be the cause of him losing his job and his passion, football—the thing he’d worked so hard to achieve.
On top of that, Aunt Sheila had passed. Declan was distraught and just barely holding it together. She had to be strong for him and helped make arrangements. They held the wake, honoring Aunt Sheila’s life the day after Declan received the call from the hospice. There was a relatively small turnout, but numerous photo albums indicated that over the years she’d acquired friends from all over the world—including the royals of Concordia. Maggie was glad she was able to get to know the woman while she was still alive and prayed that she was now with Jesus.
Maggie stayed a few nights at the townhouse but figured it was time to book a room at a hotel and then head back to Florida. The questions she’d asked herself when she was leaving the States circled her thoughts once more. Who was she? What did she want? She wasn’t a princess in title, but she’d wanted to rescue herself and figure out a way to stop living paycheck to paycheck. She’d failed and was going to end up right where she’d started.
She’d had dreams—the mobile cupcake shop and maybe even party planning. She wanted to make people happy because it made her happy. Her parents always threw high-end events but excluded her. Long ago, she’d decided if they were going to miss her birthdays and other special occasions, she’d start celebrating official days because every day should be joyful. She’d helped herself once, she could do it again. Right?
While Maggie was packing her belongings, shouting came from the other room.
“I did not break the playbook rules. That image was not what you think. I did no such thing. I wouldn’t. You know what I value.” This was followed by stomping. Then a door slamming. A few moments later, Declan’s voice came from the kitchen, “Coach, please listen...”
Maggie knew it was time to make some phone calls of her own. First, she dialed her father who was only slightly more responsive than her mother. No answer. She left a message and then tried Vicky. She also left a message with her. It could be weeks or months before they got back to her, given they’d missed her birthday of all things. But she had to stand up to them. Tell them how she felt, how they’d hurt her, and demand that they remove anything from the internet that they’d posted about Declan. She had to get it off her chest right then so she opened up an email and poured her heart out, telling them how they’d hurt her.
Afterward, she plunked down on the bed, struggling to figure out a way to make things right. An idea popped into her mind.
The rise and fall of Declan’s voice from the kitchen had gone silent. She padded in to find him seated at the table, gazing at the harbor.
He must’ve sensed her and said, “You know, I have a yacht. Would it be so bad to prepare it for departure, leave all of this, and just sail around the world?”
“You might get lonely,” she said.
“I wouldn’t if you were there.” He reached back for her arm, hand, but she stepped just out of reach. No sense in making things worse, and giving in to the yearning only to have it taken away.
Instead, she sat down opposite him. “Declan, you know that we can only be friends. Our lives are too different. And the honest truth is now that you know about my past, you understand why I don’t want any part of the limelight. Can you imagine what my parents would do if we were together?”
He leveled her with a gaze. “You can’t exist in the limbo of wanting their attention and fearing it.”
She leaned back, feeling her face fall slack. He was right, but she didn’t like it and she didn’t know how to change it.
“And if we were together... things would be different,” he said softly. He tried to meet her eyes.
If she did, she’d give in, captivated, magnetized, charmed by him. “Would they be different?” she asked after she managed to take a deep breath.
He dropped his head into his hands and didn’t answer.
Maggie took the opportunity to make the switch and hurried off on the pretense of being annoyed that he didn’t reply.
Back in the bonus flat, she closed the door and found the number she was looking for at the top of Declan’s contacts. She hoped she had plenty of time to say what she needed to say before he realized that she had his phone.
The call rang and a gruff voice answered.
“Hi, Coach Hammer?”
“This isn’t Declan. Who is this?” the coach asked.
“I’m Maggie. His other coach. I stole his phone.”
The coach blustered, but she explained the situation. “No, he didn’t put me up to this. In the past month, well, it’ll be a month in another day, he’s gone from being a rascal, as his aunt would’ve said, to a fine gentleman and a man I’d be proud to have on my team.”
Hammer asked about the photographs and she told him who her parents were, what they’d done, and how it was true that she and his wide receiver had become close. “It’s unprofessional so I arranged the date with Blair because I didn’t want my feelings for Declan to compromise his position on the team.”
The line was quiet a moment. “Well, Ms. Byrne, I appreciate your honesty.”
Guilt bit into her because she wasn’t always honest with Declan—that she’d switched their phones was a point of fact. She also wasn’t entirely honest with herself. She really, truly had feelings for him, but once out from under the thumb of probation from his coach, would he go back to his old ways? She cared for him but didn’t want a life in the limelight. In part, that was what kept his career going, bought him planes and yachts, and gave him the notoriety he seemed to crave.
“Also, you’ll note that all of my reviews, except the first one, were entirely positive. There was no bias, just observation.”
“That kid can be a charmer,” Coach Hammer said.
She added that he’d maintained a positive character while facing difficulties from his past and his aunt’s sickness and death. It had been a challenging month. The conversation seemed to placate the coach. When Maggie got off the phone, she released a sigh of relief.
She went back to the kitchen to switch the phones back, but Declan wasn’t there. The shower was running upstairs. He was probably getting ready for the funeral service. She also got changed and packed up her things to stay at a hotel that night. While waiting for him, she booked a flight back to Florida.
Understandably, they were both quiet on the ride to the cemetery for the funeral. The turnout was relatively small as everyone paid their respects.
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Afterward, rain pattered down. Declan remained by the coffin, motionless and with his head bowed. Maggie threaded her fingers in his and said a final prayer before gently moving him toward the street and awaiting car.
A woman stood on the sidewalk partially concealed by an umbrella. She swiped at Declan and hissed, “Mr. Famous Football Player, you think that you’re too good to return my call? To pay your respects to my family? You take a lift up in the world and forget the little people down below?”
Declan went still and the blood emptied from his face.
“Too busy with your fame and line of women clamoring for you to remember my Siobhan and my son? Your girlfriend and best friend? Remember them, Declan?”
“Mrs. O’Malley?” he asked.
She turned to Maggie and shook her head. “He’ll never love you the way you loved her.” Then her head jerked back to him. “Or did you? What is it Declan? Honor the past or drown your sorrows with this nobody?” Then she laughed. “Oh, wait. Deep down you’re a nobody too. Don’t forget where you came from, lad.” She glowered at him as the rain poured down.
Declan didn’t move.
“Nothing to say?” Mrs. O’Malley smiled darkly. “Well, I sure did. Big media came sniffing around and paid me a handsome sum to tell my story. Your story. Strange it hadn’t come out before now. Well, the world will know who you really are. A murderer. I’ll never forget, Declan. Now, you won’t either.” She turned and stormed away.
Had Maggie heard right? What did the woman mean about Declan being a killer? She knew he’d had a rough past on the streets of the city, but she could never imagine him doing something so despicable.
Declan hung his head and wordlessly got in the car. He rested his elbows on his knees and held his forehead in his hands the entire way. When they pulled up in front of the townhome, he held out her phone. “We accidentally switched again.”
Maggie took her phone and gave him his. She wanted to ask him about Mrs. O’Malley and the accusations. He got out and went around to open her door.