What If

by A. J. Pine

  But even if she doesn’t want me, she sure as hell needs me—needs someone. And I’m her only choice. So I sit on the foot of the bed and wait, and when she emerges in a T-shirt and shorts, hair wrapped in a towel, and her red eyes evidence that she spent the whole shower with tears streaming, I still don’t move.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I tell her.

  She lets out a long breath and joins me at the foot of the bed, unraveling the towel before resting her head on my shoulder.

  “Okay.”

  On the rare occasion I stay the night at my parents’ house and Nat’s around, she sometimes goes out on her own, leaving Violet to spend the night in the room my parents have made for her. I don’t know what Nat does when she’s out, but it’s nice to see her take time for herself. Watching Violet is beyond easy. The girl can practically take care of herself. And when I tuck her in at night, I always know Nat is a phone call away, or my parents are down the hall. The responsibility of taking care of Vi has never been solely placed on me. Not for real, anyway.

  But as I tuck Maggie in now—groggy from her medication and the aftermath of the migraine—I’m struck with an awareness. If I fuck up with Maggie in any way, I have no back-up, no support. I’m on my own.

  I lie behind her on top of the blanket, my finger tracing circles on her shoulder.

  “You’re going to go downstairs with them, right? I won’t be able to sleep if I know you missed the rest of the night with your friends.”

  Even as she says them, her words slur with a heaviness of sleep I can’t begin to comprehend.

  “I’m not drunk anymore,” she assures me with a small but painful laugh. “The migraine and the meds knock me out.”

  I kiss her cheek, and she sighs, her eyes closed and her breaths deepening.

  “Thank you,” she says dreamily. “It was a really good night until it wasn’t. I don’t expect you to know how to handle…” The rest of the sentence drops off, and I want her to stay awake long enough for me to convince her.

  “It still is a good night,” I say quietly, but she doesn’t respond. “Maggie? Are you awake?” Again, nothing. “Nothing’s changed. I want the full deck,” I say, my lips brushing her temple.

  It hits me how much I want it, how much I want more not only with Maggie, but more.

  I look at the clock on the nightstand. Eleven-twenty. If I know him at all, I know my father is awake, catching up on paperwork in his home office or enjoying his Jack on the rocks on the screened-in porch.

  Full deck.

  If I’m going to be all-in with Maggie, I have to do the same with the rest of my life. I have a choice. I’ve just always opted for the easy way out, even if it means sacrificing what I want. I have to stop hoping my family will get sick enough of my bullshit to not want me to fulfill this plan they’ve set out for me ever since I was born with the one piece of anatomy my sisters didn’t have. I thought it sentenced me to a life of becoming not only my father in name but in everything else. It’s what I’ve been raised to believe and what I’ve been trying to escape. For the first time I need to choose what I want. Even if I have no idea what that is. Even if there’s risk. And fucking hell, there is risk.

  I stare at his cell number on the screen of my phone. All I have to do is tap send to change everything.

  He answers on the first ring.

  “Hey, Dad. We need to talk.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Maggie

  Coffee with the Scotland gang isn’t as mortifying as I expect.

  “We missed you last night,” Jordan tells me. “I’m so glad you’re feeling better.”

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “I once got so drunk I woke up on a round-about in the middle of town.” This from Duncan, and with it Elaina rolls her eyes while the rest of us laugh.

  “And you wonder why it took me so long to kiss you. That is why. You were a boy. I had to wait for you to become a man.”

  Elaina sips her espresso like it’s water, and Duncan whispers to the rest of us, “Probably shouldn’t tell her it happened after she snogged me, aye?”

  She smacks him on the shoulder. “I can hear you!”

  Again the laughter and Duncan telling her, “I know!”

  This is how our short and final visit goes until it’s time to leave. Duncan and Elaina are staying a few more days with Jordan and Noah, first at Jordan’s family home in the suburbs, then in Ohio, where Jordan’s in grad school and where Noah teaches.

  “You guys should come to my parents’ place. It’s less than an hour away.”

  Jordan’s invitation is sincere, and had last night not gone the direction it did, I might hope for Griffin to accept. But I’m relieved when he shakes his head.

  “We should get back,” he says, with no further explanation, but Jordan offers us both an understanding smile.

  She hugs me tight. “He’s worth the fight,” she whispers.

  I swallow hard at her wish because less than twenty-four hours ago it was mine, too. But it was a silly wish, a silly wish for a girl who’s way more of a handful than any guy could bargain for, especially this one. Griffin has enough to deal with without having to worry about the next time I disintegrate in public. He said so himself. And let’s face it, my track record for the past couple weeks has been shit.

  Something is up with him, though. He gave me space this morning because he could tell I needed it, so we haven’t talked much. He should be sad to say good-bye to his friends. Maybe he is, but for some reason he’s beaming, an unwavering smile on his face despite Elaina and Duncan tearfully embracing him. He and Noah even hug, proof they must have smoothed over any strain they may have felt in each other’s presence.

  “Why does this seem more difficult than it was two years ago?” Jordan asks as she wraps her arms around Griffin. “We’ll do this again, right? Tell me this is proof we don’t have to wait two years again.”

  I watch his smile waiver. Long-distance relationships of any kind aren’t easy, friendships included.

  Griffin grabs my hand before answering her. “I think last night was proof of a lot of things, one certainly being that I don’t want to go this long without seeing any of you again.”

  Somehow we all end up in a huddle of sorts, and Duncan addresses the group.

  “Did I forget to mention the wedding’s next December…in Greece? I think you’ll be needing one of those fancy cards to remind you of the date so you can buy your tickets!”

  Griffin smiles, but it’s not entirely sincere, as if Duncan’s news isn’t what he wants to hear. It’s funny, the things you learn about people. It’s in this moment I realize I know his smiles—when they’re real, when they’re not, when they’re only for me. Something isn’t right, but he doesn’t want them to know.

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” he says.

  “Don’t you mean we?” Elaina asks. “Your invitation will have a plus one.” I flush not only with the heat of embarrassment, but of rejection, too. Because his first instinct was to think of himself alone. Not us.

  “Right. Of course. We,” he says, his hand loosening its grip on mine.

  A minute ago he couldn’t hide his smile if he tried, and now he plasters on a grin so fake I wonder how he can be the same person.

  “We should probably get going.” I nudge his arm with my elbow. “I mean, if you’re ready.”

  We’ve all been standing on the verge of leaving for close to ten minutes now.

  “Yeah. I’m ready. You all ready?”

  The rest of the group responds in a chorus of “readies.”

  “So we’ll see you next December!” Jordan says, giddy as she hugs us both again, and Griffin and I nod, not because we’ll be there but because it’s the only response we can give for now.

  Then the mass of us moves out the door with final good-byes before we head to our respective cars. And as much as part of me doesn’t want to ask, doesn’t want to be rejected outright even though my mind about us is already made
up, another part of me wants to know what could have turned off the gleam in his eyes so quickly.

  “What was that all about?” I ask him as he opens my door for me. I’m not going to let him distract me with chivalry.

  “What are you talking about?” But his voice is flat, his incredulity unconvincing.

  I wait for him to round the truck to his own door, till he sits in his seat and slides the key in the ignition.

  “Let me try this again,” I say. “I saw you in there. Something had you all, I don’t know, giddy. That is, until Duncan mentioned the wedding. In Greece. Because doesn’t that sound like a shitty place to go in winter?”

  He sighs, shoulders sagging in defeat. He rests his hand on the clutch, but we remain in park as he readies himself to speak.

  “I graduate in May,” he says.

  I nod. This isn’t news to either of us. So I wait for him to continue.

  “And as soon as I have that degree in hand, my parents are kind of done with me financially. I can’t afford one ticket to Greece, not to mention two.”

  He says all of this to the steering wheel. I don’t understand what he means because all it takes is one look at the truck he drives, the clothes he wears, and, shit, the house he lives in to know this boy comes from money. If anyone can swing a couple tickets to Greece, I’m pretty sure it’s the guy sitting next to me.

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” I say, knowing his relationship with his father is strained but also knowing when it came down to it, he planned to do what was expected of him.

  He turns to me now, the heat from the vents fogging the windows.

  “I wanted to wait until we were alone to tell you. I wanted you to be the first to know, but now I guess I’m realizing the limitations of my decision.”

  Reason tells me not to succumb to the uncertainty in his eyes, to the plea in his look. But my body ignores reason when we are this close, and I lift my hand to his cheek. Was it only last night I undressed on the window seat for him, promising him something more? The possibility in that moment feels so far away, yet I can’t ignore the charged air between us now, if only from a touch meant to comfort.

  He leans into my palm and smiles softly, but the smile is real enough to tug at my insides, to fill me with an ache for what I am giving up.

  “You’re right. There’s a lot I’m good at, and I’d be really good at joining my father’s company. But it’s not what I want.”

  I let my hand fall away, and my fingertips skim his jaw and neck. The charged air crackles to life, but I ignore it, push it down.

  I ask him the question I asked in the library again. “What do you want, Griffin?”

  He shrugs. “I don’t think I really knew till I met you. Hell, I’m still not sure I know, but I’m getting closer. While I’m figuring it out, I applied for the AmeriCorps coalition. They have them in all major cities across the U.S. and I can handle staying in Minneapolis for a little longer.” He lets out a breath, and I hang on the words, till I met you. “I want to tell myself it’s okay to be lost, that it’s okay to still be figuring it out because I’ve never tried to figure it out before.”

  At this I smile, and he returns the expression. It’s okay to be lost.

  A light laugh escapes his lips before his smile loses its easiness. “Bottom line is I’ve been waiting for my dad to give up on me, to see I wasn’t capable of being his carbon copy. Instead he waited me out until I realized I couldn’t live up to his expectations and be happy, too.”

  I grab his hand. “Griffin, this is big. It’s huge, and amazing, and wonderful, and I’m proud of you.”

  He looks down for a second, and when his eyes meet mine again, they shine with pride.

  My stomach flips at the sight of it, at him so happy with himself. The moment is short-lived.

  “My apartment, my car, letting me travel and take time off—all of that was conditional. As long as I took the GMAT, got into a good business school, and actually enrolled in said business school, none of that would have changed. It was all a means to an end.”

  “But you changed the ending of your story,” I tell him. “Isn’t that what you want?”

  He nods. “Now, yeah. But it wasn’t always. Having my future laid out before me like that? It was kind of nice. I didn’t have to worry about what I was going to do with my life. I didn’t have to make any big decisions. I could just…be.”

  I see the appeal of a life like that. It’s the part of my life that will always be missing—a guarantee. But is a promise of the wrong future better than no promise at all?

  “Was he angry?” I ask him.

  Griffin sighs. “That’s the part that kills me. No. He wasn’t. But he was disappointed that I wasted all this time, all this money on an education I’m not going to use the way I was supposed to. He sounded…tired.”

  Like Griffin sounds right now.

  “But no money,” I say.

  “No money. He said it’s time I figure it all out. On my own. Should be interesting on a government stipend, but you said I’m creative, right? But it means there’s no way I can make it to Duncan and Elaina’s wedding. No way I can take you. And I’d want to, you know. If money wasn’t an issue, I’d be asking you right now to promise you’ll be my date.”

  At this he inches to the edge of his seat, his hip pressing into the gear shift. His hands find my cheeks, and I close my eyes, not able to deny the effect he has on me, his skin on mine.

  “Shit happens, Maggie. So you got sick. No big deal. You met me on a not-so-spectacular morning after, and for reasons I can’t begin to imagine, you’re still here.” Then he kisses me, his lips soft while day-old stubble tickles my chin. “I’m still here. I’m all-in. Full deck.” More kisses, his warm mouth tasting of coffee and possibility. “Tell me you’re still here,” he says, pulling away for air. When he kisses me again, before I give him my answer, I open my mouth, letting myself taste him without holding back, and my resolve crumbles.

  “I’m still here,” I tell him. Because I want to give him something in the wake of all this uncertainty. I want to give myself a chance at a guarantee. At one for both of us. I thought we were supposed to be each other’s escape. Maybe I was wrong.

  We drive, the trip filled with conversation about Griffin looking for a job, finding a cheaper apartment, figuring out if he’s going to stay in Minneapolis now that the possibilities are endless. We both avoid any talk of last night, which means I get to avoid dropping any bombs about my health, about last night not being an isolated incident. The day belongs to him, and I let him talk, let him process his new life. When we get back to his place, Miles waits in his car to take me home.

  “I texted him,” I say. “When we were getting close.”

  “Oh. Okay. I guess you want to get home and regroup. Can I see you later?” he asks. While there’s nothing I want more right now than to forget about talking and instead find myself in Griffin’s bed, I don’t think he’ll let me off the hook that easily. He’s right. I need to regroup, get back into my routine. We don’t need to rush into whatever this next phase might be. At least not today.

  “I have a paper due Monday morning. Is it okay if we wait until then? Library at one o’clock?”

  He bends toward me, his lips finding mine again, a kiss that is good-bye for now but says There’s no way we’re finished. This kiss is long, and soft, and achingly sweet.

  When the kiss ends, he doesn’t back away but rests his forehead on mine as he speaks. “Library at one.” He lets out a breath. “When do I get to be the one to take you home? Why do I feel like I’m in competition with someone else for your trust? I thought maybe, after this weekend, I had it.”

  When he backs away, his eyes rest on mine, intent and unwavering.

  “There’s no competition. Miles is my friend.”

  “Who gets to take you home.”

  He doesn’t try to disguise the bitterness in his voice, and I can’t blame him. I never asked Griffin to let me in, to open h
imself to me like he has. He did it anyway, and I took what he gave without giving back.

  “You’re right,” I say. “He gets to take me home because he always has. It’s second nature. I don’t have a car, so when I need a ride, Miles is there because he’s my friend. And you’re…you’re…” How do I come up with the words when this is all so new? What am I to him and him to me?

  “I’m what?” he asks, the hint of a teasing smile on his lips.

  That’s all the encouragement I need. “More,” I say without looking away. “You’re—more. And letting you take me home means I have to be ready for that. I need to gear up to it, okay?”

  A full grin takes over his features. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll take more.”

  I jump at the sound of knuckles rapping against glass and turn to see Miles outside my window. I open the door, and he greets us with an apology.

  “I’m covering a shift this evening and need to get back to the shop. Otherwise I wouldn’t, you know…”

  “No problem, man,” Griffin says. “Let me get her bag.”

  We all know the gesture is unnecessary, with Miles and me already headed to the trunk, but no one mentions it. No one stops us from one more minute of good-bye. And when Griffin hoists my bag from the truck, Miles grabs it before I can.

  “I got it,” he says to Griffin and then turns to me. “If I didn’t have a shift…”

  “Don’t apologize again,” I say. “I’ll be there in a sec. Thank you—for coming to get me.”

  Miles nods, his soft smile an unspoken I’m sorry regardless of my request. When he heads toward his car, I close my eyes and let out a long breath. A beat to collect myself. A small pause to decide to get out of my head and into the moment. When I pivot back to Griffin, an easy grin is all it takes for me to rise on my toes and crush my lips to his, nothing gentle about it.

  “Ow,” he says, laughter mixed with genuine but hopefully minor pain. He brings a hand to his lip, and his finger comes away with a tiny smear of red.

  “Shit. Leave it to me to seize the moment and draw blood instead.”