Maybe Now (Maybe #2)

by Colleen Hoover

  Ridge: You and Maggie had a conversation and you didn’t tell me?

  I watch her reaction as she reads the text. She freezes, staring down at the phone, and then she rubs her forehead. She leans against the library shelf and inhales a deep breath.

  Sydney: Yes. I should have told you. I just wanted the two of you to have the chance to speak before I brought it up, but I drove to her house on Sunday. Not to start drama, I swear. I just had some things I needed to say to her. I’m sorry, Ridge.

  I look back up at her, and everything about her is on edge now. She’s worried, rubbing the back of her neck now, refusing to pull her eyes away from her phone until I text her back.

  I hold up my phone and snap a picture of her, then text it to her. It takes a moment for the picture to come through on her end, but as soon as it does, she spins around. Our eyes lock.

  I shake my head, just barely, but not because I’m upset with her in any way, shape, or form. I shake my head in slight disbelief that this woman would take it upon herself to drive to my ex-girlfriend’s house because she wanted to make things better between us.

  I have never felt this amount of appreciation for anyone or anything in my entire life.

  I begin to walk toward her. She pushes off the bookshelf when I get closer and she stands, stiff, anticipating my next move. When I reach her, I don’t say or sign a single word. I don’t have to. She knows exactly what I’m thinking, because with Sydney, all she has to do is be near me for us to communicate. She looks up at me and I look down at her, and as if we’re in perfect sync, she takes two steps back and I take two steps forward, so that we’re hidden between two walls of books.

  I love you.

  I don’t say or sign those words. I only feel them, but she hears it.

  I lift my hands and run the backs of my fingers down her cheeks. I try to touch her with the same softness that she uses to touch me. I run my thumbs over her lips, admiring her mouth and every gentle word that comes out of it. I slide my hands down to her neck and press my thumbs against her throat. I can feel her rapid pulse beneath my fingertips.

  I lower my forehead to hers, and I close my eyes. I just want to feel her heartbeat against my thumbs. I want to feel her breath against my lips. I take a moment and do these things while I silently thank her, our foreheads still pressed together.

  I wish we weren’t in public right now. I would thank her in so many more ways, and without using a single word.

  I keep my hands on her throat and press myself against her to turn and position her against the bookshelves behind her. When her back meets the books, I keep her face tilted up toward mine, while drawing our mouths closer together, barely connecting mine to hers. I can feel her rapid breaths crashing against my lips, so I hold still and swallow a few of them before I slip my tongue inside her mouth and coax even more of those rapid breaths out of her. Her mouth is warmer and more inviting than it’s ever been.

  She brings her hands to my chest, slapping the paper and the marker against my shirt while she steadies herself. The paper falls to the floor. She tilts her head up to mine even more and opens her mouth a little wider, wanting more of our kiss. I curve my right hand around the back of her head as I close my mouth over hers and inhale.

  I kiss her. I love her.

  I love her. I kiss her.

  I kiss her.

  I am so very in love with her.

  It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do when I pull away from her mouth. Her hands are clenched in fists around my shirt. Her eyes are still closed when I pull back, so I stare down at her for a moment, convinced that Karma might actually know what she’s doing after all. Maybe there was a reason so many shitty things had to happen in my life. It wouldn’t have been a balanced life if I’d had a beautiful childhood, only to grow up and share a life like the one I know I’m going to share with Sydney. I think my childhood was the balance I needed so that I could have her. She is so good and so perfect, maybe I was made to suffer first before earning a reward of this magnitude.

  I slide my hands to hers, which are still clenching my shirt. The paper she was holding has long since fallen to the floor, but the marker is still in her fist. I pry it from her fingers and she opens her eyes, just as I slip my fingers beneath the collar of her shirt. I pull it down, exposing the skin over her heart. I pull the cap off the marker with my teeth and then press the marker to her chest. I write four letters directly over her heart.

  MINE

  I put the cap back on the marker, and then I kiss her one last time before I turn and walk away.

  It’s the most we’ve ever communicated and the least we’ve ever said.

  I’m sitting in the passenger seat of Ridge’s car, staring out the window. My right hand is touching my chest, lightly fingering the word he wrote over my heart Tuesday night. Mine. It’s faded now because it’s been four days since he wrote it, but luckily it was a permanent marker, and I’ve avoided scrubbing it off in the shower.

  When he left the library Tuesday night, I immediately had to sit down. He had left me so breathless, I almost felt faint. He wasn’t even there five minutes, and it was the most intense five minutes of my life. So much so, I convinced my coworker to stay for the rest of my shift, and then I drove straight to Ridge’s apartment to finish what he started. Those five intense minutes in the library became two intense hours in his bed.

  Since then, we’ve spent three of the last four nights together.

  He told me all about his conversation with Maggie. I hate that her grandfather passed away just hours after I left her apartment on Sunday. But knowing she was dealing with all of that, yet still made the time to stop by Ridge’s and apologize to him, made me appreciate her effort even more. And it really did make a huge difference in Ridge. It’s like a heavy weight was lifted after their talk on Tuesday. The last four days with him have been the best four days I’ve spent with him since the day we met.

  In the beginning of getting to know him, every conversation we had was encased by guilt because of Maggie. Then, after his and Maggie’s fight last week, every conversation we had was laced with worry because of Maggie. But since Tuesday, every time we’re alone, it finally feels like we’re actually alone. Somehow, merging Maggie more into our lives seems to have removed her even more from our relationship. It shouldn’t make sense, but it does. Putting more focus on their friendship than on the fact that she’s his ex-girlfriend will be better for our relationship in the long run.

  Hopefully, Bridgette will be able to realize that soon. Because right now, she’s not happy. Warren and Bridgette are in the back seat. Ridge is driving. Bridgette hasn’t said a single word on the way to Maggie’s house, because she and Warren got into a fight right before we left. She demanded she come with him, but he told her he didn’t want her there because she doesn’t know how to be nice to Maggie. That pissed her off. They went to their room and fought while Ridge and I sat on the couch and waited.

  Actually, we sat on the couch and made out, so we didn’t really care how long their fight lasted. But it still hasn’t ended because we’re pulling into Maggie’s driveway, and the only words Bridgette has spoken between Austin and this driveway are, “I have to pee.” She says it as she gets out of the car and slams her door.

  Bridgette isn’t the most reasonable person. But I’m growing to really like her and even understand her. She wears her emotions on her sleeve. But she has a lot of emotions, so it’s more like she wears her emotions on several long-sleeved shirts, layered on top of each other.

  No one has to knock on the door, because Maggie opens it as we’re walking up the driveway. Warren walks in first and gives her a hug. Bridgette passes right by her, but Ridge gives her a quick hug. I do, too, simply because I’d rather start this off with a good sentiment.

  “Smells good,” Ridge signs as he tosses his keys on the counter.

  “Lasagna,” Maggie says. “I’m reading this book where the characters make lasagna anytime they need to talk th
rough something. Thought it was fitting for tonight.” Maggie looks at me as she walks into her kitchen. “Do you like to read, Sydney?”

  “Love to read,” I say, taking off my cardigan. I set it over the back of one of the chairs. “I just don’t have a lot of time. Which is sad, considering I work in a library.”

  Bridgette walks to the bathroom, and Warren tosses himself dramatically on the couch, face down into a throw pillow. “Kill me now,” he mutters.

  “Trouble in paradise?” Maggie says.

  Warren lifts his head and looks at her. “Paradise? When have Bridgette and I ever lived in paradise?”

  “Trouble in Sheol?” Maggie corrects.

  Warren sits up on the couch. “I don’t even know what that means.”

  “It’s another word for Hell.”

  “Oh,” Warren says. “You know not to use big words around me.”

  “It’s only five letters long.”

  I’m watching them converse, my attention going back and forth between them. I finally focus on Ridge, who is standing in front of me now. “You thirsty?” he asks.

  I nod. He walks to the kitchen and opens a cabinet, then begins making us both something to drink. It’s odd, watching him move his way around the kitchen like it’s his kitchen. It makes me realize that in a way, it used to be. There’s no telling how much time he spent here at her house. I guess this is one of those fairly awkward moments I’m going to have to get used to. Ridge brings me a glass of water, and then he takes a seat on the couch next to Warren.

  I walk into the kitchen.

  “You need any help?” I ask Maggie.

  She shakes her head and opens the refrigerator, placing a salad inside. “No, thanks. Everything is finished except the lasagna.” She looks at Ridge and Warren. “You guys ready to sit at the table and do this before we eat?”

  Warren slaps his jeans. “Ready,” he says, hopping up.

  The four of us make our way to the kitchen table just as Bridgette walks out of the bathroom. Maggie is at the head of the table. I’m sitting next to Ridge, and Warren is seated next to an empty chair, but Bridgette chooses to claim the chair at the opposite head of the table so that there’s an empty seat between Warren and her. He shakes his head, ignoring her.

  Maggie opens up a folder and then sits up straight and signs everything she begins to speak. I like watching her sign. I don’t know why, but I find it a little easier to follow her than Ridge or Warren. Maybe because her hands are more delicate, but it seems like she signs a little slower and—if this even makes sense—with more enunciation.

  She looks at all of us. “Thank you for agreeing to this.” She directs her attention at me. “And thank you,” she says, without being specific. I nod, but really, it’s Warren she should be thanking. He’s the one who gave me the kick in the rear I needed to finally make a forward move with Maggie.

  “I’ve made a couple of decisions that I want to talk about first, because they affect the next year of my life. And subsequently, yours.” She nods her head toward her hallway. We all look at the hallway, and for the first time, I notice moving boxes. “My internship is over, and so is my thesis, so I’ve decided to move back to Austin. My landlord informed me on Wednesday that she was able to rent the house to someone else, so I have to be out by the end of the month.”

  I take her pause as an opportunity to interrupt with a question. “Isn’t your doctor here in San Antonio?”

  Maggie shakes her head. “She has a satellite office here one day a week. But she’s based out of Austin, so it’ll actually be easier for me.”

  “Have you found an apartment yet?” Warren asks. “The end of the month is just a few days away.”

  Maggie nods again. “I have, but it won’t be ready until April fifth. The tenants just moved out, and they have to carpet and repaint.”

  “Is it the same complex as last time?” Warren asks.

  Maggie’s eyes flicker from Warren to Ridge. There’s something unspoken there, even though she’s shaking her head, giving them an answer. “They didn’t have anything available. This one is in North Austin.”

  Warren leans forward and gives her a look that I don’t understand. Ridge sighs heavily. I feel lost.

  “What?” I ask. “What’s wrong with North Austin?”

  Maggie looks at me. “It’s pretty far from you guys. Ridge and I… Back when I had my apartment in Austin…we both chose complexes that were close to the hospital and my doctor. It made things easier.”

  “Have you checked our complex?” Warren asks. “I know there are units available.”

  Bridgette makes a noise of protest. She clears her throat and then plops her purse down on the table. She pulls out a nail file, leans back in her chair, and starts filing her fingernails.

  I look back at Maggie, and she’s looking at me. She shakes her head and says, “No, but North Austin should be fine. I’ve been here in San Antonio for a year now, and everything has been fine.”

  “I wouldn’t say fine,” Warren says.

  “You know what I mean, Warren. I haven’t had an emergency to the point that I would have died without you guys here. I think I’ll be fine if I’m only on the other side of town.”

  Ridge shakes his head. “You would have died in my bathroom if Sydney hadn’t found you. Just because you’ve been lucky doesn’t mean it’s been a smart move.”

  “Agreed,” Warren says. “You live north of San Antonio. We live in South Austin. It takes forty-five minutes from our driveway to yours. But if you move to North Austin, with traffic, it’ll take more than an hour to get to you. You might be moving to the same city, but it’ll take us even more time to get to you.”

  Maggie sighs. She looks down and lowers her voice a little. “I can’t afford anything else right now. The only apartments near the hospital with any availability are too expensive for me.”

  “Why don’t you get a job?” Bridgette asks.

  We all turn our attention toward Bridgette. I don’t think anyone was expecting anything to come out of her mouth. She’s holding the nail file against her thumbnail, staring at Maggie.

  “It’s hard to hold a job when you’re in the hospital on a regular basis,” Maggie says. “I had to apply for disability three years ago just to be able to pay my rent.” She’s being a little defensive, but I get it. Bridgette doesn’t seem to sugarcoat her questions around Maggie at all. Or anyone, for that matter.

  Bridgette shrugs and goes back to filing her nails.

  “Like I asked earlier, have you even checked availability in our complex?” Warren asks.

  Again, Maggie’s attention is on me when this is brought up. I glance at Ridge, and he looks at me. We read each other without saying a word.

  I nod, even though it seems absurd if I give it too much thought. But for whatever reason, it doesn’t feel absurd. Having her in the same complex as Ridge and Warren would make things easier on all of them. And I truly don’t believe Ridge or Maggie want to go down a road they’ve already traveled, so I surprisingly don’t feel at all threatened by the thought of it. Maybe I’m being naïve, but I have to go with my gut. And my gut is telling me that she needs to be closer to them rather than farther away.

  “I don’t mind if you live in the same complex as Ridge, if that’s what’s stopping you,” I say. “My ex-boyfriend moved into the complex with my ex-best friend after I moved in with Ridge and Warren last year. We can see right into their living room from Ridge’s balcony. Believe me, nothing can feel weirder than that.”

  Maggie smiles appreciatively at me and then looks toward Bridgette across the table. Ridge puts his arm on the back of my chair and then leans over, quickly kissing the side of my head. I love his silent thank-yous.

  Bridgette looks up, directly at Maggie. She doesn’t look happy. She turns her attention toward Warren and leans forward. “Shit, Warren, why don’t you just move her into one of the spare bedrooms? We can be one big happy family.”

  Warren rolls his eyes. �
�Bridgette, stop.”

  “No. Think about it. I moved in and you started sleeping with me. Sydney moved in and Ridge started messing around with her. It’s only fair that Maggie gets a turn.”

  I close my eyes and drop my head, shaking it. Why did Bridgette have to go there? I glance at Maggie, and she’s shooting daggers at Bridgette.

  “I think you forget that I’ve already been with them both, Bridgette. I actually don’t need a turn, but thank you for being considerate.”

  “Oh, fuck off,” Bridgette says.

  And…this just went from bad to worse. I don’t even think Ridge knows what just happened. As soon as that sentence comes out of Bridgette’s mouth, Maggie calmly scoots her chair back and stands up. She walks to her bedroom and closes the door. They both just took this way, way too far. My head is in my hands now, and all I can say is, “Bridgette. Why?”

  Bridgette looks at me like I’ve betrayed her. She waves a hand toward Maggie’s bedroom. “How can you be okay with this? She’s ungrateful and always has been, and now she’s moving herself into our complex and twisted it to make it look like your idea!”

  For a second, I entertain her thoughts. But only for a second. After two seconds, I stand up and make my way to Maggie’s bedroom. I honestly think Bridgette has her pegged wrong. I don’t see Ridge loving someone who is that ungrateful and manipulative. I just don’t.

  I push open Maggie’s bedroom door, and she’s sitting cross-legged on her bed, wiping away a tear. I sit down on the bed next to her. Maggie lifts her head, looking at me with eyes full of guilt.

  “I’m sorry. That was tacky. But Bridgette is wrong, I’m not trying to take over either of your lives,” she whispers. I can tell by her voice that she’s on the verge of more tears. “If it were up to me, I’d be so far out from under their thumbs, it would take hours for them to drive to me. But I’m trying to be more cooperative, Sydney. I’m trying to be more respectful of their time.”