The Real Thing (The Bouquet Catchers Book 5)

by Lizzie Shane

  She had another bottle of Pinot Grigio in her hands and she was worried about his kid.

  “She’s fine. You wanna…?” He didn’t know how to finish that sentence, but Maggie seemed to know what he meant. She stepped over the threshold. Cecil wasn’t with her—and as much as he was coming to like the yappy rat, he was glad he didn’t have to deal with him right now.

  Ian led the way to the beach deck, grabbing the wine glasses Maggie must have rinsed and left on the drying rack this morning on her way out.

  “What happened?” Maggie asked, the words barely louder than the sound of the surf in the distance as he uncorked the bottle and poured.

  “Lincoln is a little shit.” He passed over one of the glasses and Maggie’s eyebrows arched as she accepted it. “Apparently during batting practice when they were trying to catch fly balls and Lincoln’s parents weren’t around, Sadie mentioned you in some way and Lincoln called her a liar. She said everyone at school knew Sadie was lying about knowing you and no one liked her. And that she’d only brought Sadie to the game because her parents wouldn’t let her take back her invitation.”

  “Jesus.” Maggie whispered. “Ian, I’m sorry—”

  “You didn’t do anything. I had a bad feeling about that kid—Sadie always seemed to want so badly to impress her, like she was the queen of the school. And now she doesn’t want to go to school tomorrow and I can’t blame her, but I’m going to force her to go, even though I hate that school. Or rather I don’t hate it, I just…shit, I don’t know.” He grimaced, sinking down onto one of the deck chairs and staring into his wine. “You question everything, you know? Every choice you make that impacts her. You never know if you’re doing the right thing. It’s not like there’s anyone I can ask. You want to protect her from the world, protect her from getting hurt—but then she does and there’s not a goddamn thing you can do about it.”

  “Why don’t you like the school?” Maggie asked softly.

  “My mother would say I hate it because they’re all rich, but I really hate it because I don’t want Sadie growing up thinking that smug, entitled bullshit is normal. I worry that she’s getting this distorted idea of the world by growing up in a place that’s so economically monotone. They try for racial diversity, but every kid in her class already has an iPhone. She’s nine. And maybe I’m hypersensitive to it because I couldn’t afford to send her there without help, but I find myself worrying about everything. She says ‘like’ a lot. Is that normal? Or is it the school? Her friends are taking holidays in Europe and Asia and I want her to have every opportunity—that’s why she’s going there, but what if it’s the wrong call? I went to public school—but I skipped college and became a handyman.” He set his glass on the arm of his chair, staring out over the purplish glow on the sand from the last light of the sun. “How do you set her up to chase her dreams without completely fucking her up in the process?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He glanced over at her. “Yeah. Me either.”

  Maggie sank down onto the chair next to his. “She’s a great kid. You’re doing a great job.”

  “Am I?” He scrubbed a hand across his beard. “I’m going to have an ulcer by the time she graduates from middle school.” He shook his head, looking out over the darkening water. “I never thought I’d be doing this alone.”

  * * * * *

  You don’t have to.

  Maggie wanted to say the words, but they tangled in her throat. She studied Ian’s profile as he looked out over the water. “Do you have someone you talk to?” You can talk to me. “You’re always doing everything for everyone else. Who does things for you?”

  “Lolly did.” He glanced over at her, a slight smile tipping one side of his mouth. “I could always talk to Lolly. For someone who loved to tell people what to do, she was incredibly good at just listening to me. Letting me rant until I figured out what felt right. Or sometimes just telling me that my decision was okay when I was questioning myself.”

  Ian was constantly questioning himself. Unlike Maggie who had made avoiding examining her decisions into an art form. At least until she came here.

  “It’s harder when it’s all on you,” she murmured. “I get that.”

  He met her eyes. “Yes, you do.” He lifted the wine, taking a slow drink. “What happened between you two?” he asked after a long moment. “I used to think you decided you were too good for Lolly, that there was no room for her in your glamorous life, but that wasn’t it at all, was it? You invited her to your first premiere and even when she didn’t come, that wouldn’t have been enough to make you push her away. You loved her.”

  “I did. And I never pushed her away. I just stopped reaching for her.” At his look, she grimaced. “When I started having some success, all sorts of people I’d once known came out of the woodwork wanting things from me. I expected it. I didn’t mind it, for the most part. Honestly, part of me loved it. Having that influence. I helped where I could, where it was reasonable, but my father…I couldn’t…” She struggled for words, her throat tight. She didn’t talk about this.

  Maggie took another sip of wine. “He came to see me, right after the first Alien Adventuress movie came out. I thought—” She laughed softly, without humor. “I thought he wanted a relationship with me. I thought I’d finally earned it—and part of me was mad at him for only wanting me when I was famous, but another part of me was really just so stupidly happy that he was actually there.” She looked into her wine glass, studying the movement of the pale liquid. “Except he didn’t actually want to know me. Or not like I thought. He kept saying he wanted his kids to have the chance to meet me. That it was important to him that his children know their half-sister. It wasn’t about me or about him. He wanted them to have the advantages that came with knowing me. And that…wasn’t okay. So I threw him out. Told him I never wanted to see him again. And Lolly had a problem with that.”

  She grimaced, forcing herself to meet his eyes. “She couldn’t help herself. Lolly knew best. She always wanted to help. Always wanted us to be one big happy family. Couldn’t stop pushing until we all loved one another, and refused to accept that I needed him out of my head. I told her I couldn’t do it. That I couldn’t let him in anymore. And she said we had nothing more to say to one another.”

  “And you never spoke again?”

  “No, we did. A couple times. She’d ask if I’d changed my mind. I’d say no. She’d try to convince me and I’d hang up. Didn’t take long to stop trying.” She eyed her wine. “If I’d known she was dying, I would have come.”

  “I know.”

  They hadn’t turned on any of the lights and only a dim glow came through the windows from the interior of the house. She could barely make out his features, but suddenly she wanted to kiss him. Maggie rocked forward, setting her glass on the table, and leaned toward Ian.

  “Maggie… We should talk.”

  She froze leaning halfway between their two chairs, mortification heating her face as she propped her elbow on the armrest and tried to pretend that had been the only motivation for her awkward lean. “Right.”

  “I should have said something last night. With Sadie back…” He hesitated and she wished fervently for more light so she could read his face. “I just don’t think we should—I don’t want to confuse things.”

  “Right.” Maggie sank back a little in her chair, forcing her voice to stay light and easy. “Of course.”

  “The last couple days were amazing. You’re amazing, but I have to think of Sadie and with you leaving…”

  She would have offered to stay. She would have stayed. But Maggie had heard speeches like this one enough to know it wasn’t about that. It’s not you, it’s me. It was fun while it lasted. Our lives are too different. You deserve someone who can give you what I can’t.

  All the old platitudes. Somehow they never made her feel any better.

  But she wasn’t an actress for nothing.

  Her smile was effortlessly charming—it
was a shame there was no light for him to appreciate it. “Absolutely.” Her voice was smooth and easy. “Sadie comes first. I just want us to stay friends. I like having a friend.”

  It wasn’t even entirely a lie. She did like having him as her friend. If she’d also been falling in love and dreaming of soul mates while he was scratching an itch while his daughter was out of town…well, he hadn’t led her on. He’d never promised her anything or even implied he might have feelings for her. If she’d gotten attached, it was her own fault.

  It was always her own fault.

  Maggie reached again for her wine, but set it down again without taking a drink. “I should probably get going. Check on Cecil.”

  Ian stood when she stood, awkwardness thick in the air between them. “Maggie…”

  His voice was thick with apology—but she knew he hadn’t suddenly changed his mind and decided to profess his undying love. That sort of thing only happened when it was scripted. “Don’t worry. We’re good. G’night, Ian.”

  “Goodnight, Maggie.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Monday was another gloriously sunny day—and just like when she was thirteen, Maggie found herself secretly wishing for rain.

  Sadie was off at school and Ian was gone all day working on some fair-weather project, not even dropping by with lunch from Vinnie’s. She finished sorting through the last box and sat on the floor with Cecil dozing at her side, staring at the neatly divided piles that had replaced the chaos that had reigned in the house for the last week.

  Keep, Donate, and Trash.

  There was still more to do. She hadn’t made a final decision on what to do with the house. Fix it up, sell it as it was… stay…

  That last option hovered in her mind even though she knew it was foolish. This wasn’t her life. It was just an interlude. She’d wanted to clear out the house herself rather than let someone else do it. To honor Lolly. It had felt important because once upon a time she had been happy here. She had been loved here. But now…

  She didn’t want to leave. She was stuck in that moment. Even knowing Ian didn’t want anything long term with her didn’t change that.

  Yes, the fact that he didn’t want her hurt her feelings, but she’d been attracted to him in part because he was such a great father. Because he worried about Sadie first and foremost. Worried about giving her the best life he could. The most normal life he could. And if he wanted Sadie’s life to have even a passing relationship with normalcy, he needed to keep her far away from the great Maggie Tate and the chaos vortex that came with fame.

  Maggie understood all that. She respected it. But it still hurt. She’d spent her entire life reaching out for connection and whenever it was right there, right at the edge of her fingertips if she could just stretch a little farther, it got yanked away. Every time.

  She could leave tomorrow, head back to LA and make Mel happy. If she stayed, what would she even do? Fix up the house? Repair the listing porch or put in stainless steel appliances that the new owner would just take out again when he tore it all down?

  But if she went back, what was she going back to?

  “Come on, Cecil,” she said, coming to her feet and heading toward the screened-in porch. “It’s much too gorgeous a day for angst. Let’s get some vitamin D.”

  The tide was out and the beach seemed to stretch forever. The wet sand at the water’s edge glittered like diamonds in the sunlight.

  A cool breeze brushed her face, but the sand near the dunes was warm beneath her feet as Maggie slipped off her shoes and dug her toes into the sand. Cecil bounded around her, investigating the beach until he got tired and flopped at her side, rolling to present his belly for her to rub.

  She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, listening to the wind and the water, her feet in the sand, rubbing Cecil’s belly. She saw a couple down at the far end of the beach, dots in the distance, but otherwise she was alone. And yet somehow completely at peace. It was incredible how she could be alone out here and never feel as lonely as she did in the middle of a crowd in LA.

  It could have been minutes or hours later when Cecil perked up his ears, scrambling to his feet and wagging his tail as he looked to the top of the dune behind Maggie. She didn’t turn around as sand skittered around her, disturbed by footsteps before Sadie flopped down onto the sand beside her.

  “Hey.” She had no idea what to say to the girl. Should she sympathize about the game? Pretend she hadn’t heard anything?

  Sadie was still wearing her school uniform, though her feet were as bare as Maggie’s and she wriggled them into the sand as she ruffled Cecil B. DeMille’s ears. “My dad says I’m absolutely not allowed to ask you to come to school to show everyone that we really do know one another. He says people are not Show and Tell props.” She spoke with the irritable tone of someone who had argued the entire drive home without success.

  Maggie hid her smile at the tone. “I don’t know that having me show up for Show and Tell would help.”

  Sadie gave her a patented what-planet-are-you-from look. “Of course it would help. Everyone at school thinks I’m a liar. Lincoln told her entire group chat before I even got to school and now everyone hates me. If you showed up, Lincoln and Brooklyn would have to admit they were wrong.”

  “But then would you ever believe that they like you for you and not because you know me? Would that make the fact that they didn’t believe you or the way they spread rumors about you hurt any less?”

  “It would make me feel better,” Sadie grumbled, drawing circles in the sand.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. I’ve had a lot of people spread rumors about me and sometimes it feels good to rub the truth in their faces, but usually the fact that people wanted to believe the bad things about me is what hurts the worst. And that doesn’t go away. It’s like they’re all waiting for me to screw up and it doesn’t matter whether I did whatever they think I did or not, they want to believe it.”

  Sadie was silent for a while, digging her fingers into the sand, lifting handfuls and letting it trail from her palm over and over. “I just wanted them to like me,” she whispered. “Lincoln and Brooklyn are the coolest girls in school and I thought they were my friends—then Brooklyn told Lincoln I was lying and she believed her instead of me. Dad says Brooklyn probably just said that because she was jealous Lincoln picked me to go to the baseball game, but that wasn’t my fault! I didn’t tell Lincoln I knew you just so she would invite me. Brooklyn doesn’t even like baseball that much.”

  “Maybe. But it’s no fun not to be picked.”

  “Lincoln and I weren’t talking about the game to make her jealous. We were just excited,” Sadie insisted, and Maggie had the distinct impression that Sadie was trying to make herself feel better about having hurt Brooklyn’s feelings. “Brooklyn didn’t have to call me a liar.”

  “She didn’t. That’s true,” Maggie agreed, keeping her tone bland.

  Sadie sent her a sideways glance, for once not wearing her ubiquitous baseball cap. “I may have exaggerated how well I know you, but I wasn’t trying to make Lincoln invite me. I just wanted to go so badly. I never get invited to stuff like this. We live so far away and I don’t even have a phone so no one texts me and I’m not on any of the group chats or anything and I just wanted---”

  “To be part of something?”

  “Yes. Dad doesn’t get it. He says I shouldn’t care what they say as long as I know the truth, and that I don’t want friends who aren’t true friends anyway, but he isn’t the one with, like, no friends. He says it’ll be better next year—but how can he know that? And how does that help now? It’s four weeks until summer break and that’s forever.”

  “He’s trying to help,” Maggie said, trying to remember when four weeks had felt like a lifetime rather than the blink of an eye as Sadie went on, the words spilling out now.

  “I know. He always wants what’s best for me,” she sing-songed. “He always wants me to do the right thing and be the better person and som
etimes I don’t want to. Sometimes I want people to like me. Sometimes I say that you’re like family or my mom died—”

  Realization whispered through Maggie, soft as a breeze as Sadie broke off. “Did Brooklyn and Lincoln say you’d been lying about other things too?” she asked gently.

  “I’m not a liar,” Sadie whispered. “Sometimes I just say things.”

  Oh, honey. Maggie’s chest ached and she had to push down the urge to take Sadie in her arms. Only the thought that the little girl wouldn’t welcome it stopped her. “I’ve done that too,” Maggie murmured. “I made some mistakes and said whatever I needed to say to make people like me again.”

  “You did?” Sadie tilted her head, looking sideways at Maggie.

  “Yeah. And you know what? It never made me feel any better. When I lied, they forgave me, but it was like they were forgiving this person I invented who didn’t do anything wrong—and that wasn’t me. So when you lie so they’ll like you, the person they like isn’t the real you.”

  “I want it to be, though,” Sadie whispered.

  This time Maggie couldn’t resist putting her arm around the girl. “I know. I used to wish so hard to be someone else. To have a mom who hadn’t ODed and a dad who wanted me—but your dad, he loves you more than anyone has ever loved anybody.”

  “My mom didn’t die,” Sadie admitted softly, as if she didn’t realize she’d already confessed as much. “She left when I was a baby. I don’t even know where she is.”

  Maggie hid her reaction at the news that Sadie’s mom hadn’t just gone off to chase her dreams, she didn’t even have contact with Ian and Sadie.

  “I read all these books about orphans—Harry Potter and Series of Unfortunate Events—and their parents always loved them. Nothing could have made them leave if they hadn’t died. So I would picture how people would react if I told them my mom had loved me more than anything in the world and then she’d been tragically taken from me…and then I just kind of started saying it out loud.”