Maybe You

by Marie Landry

  My eyes seek Kieran’s once more and our gazes lock. The old me, the one who always asked for signs and took cues from the universe—the one who still appears from time to time, at moments like this—whispers in my mind that we were interrupted for a reason. Some of the heat has dimmed from Kieran’s eyes, but I know he still wants me. We’re pressed close enough together I can feel his hard length against me. He smiles softly, looking as uncertain as I feel.

  “Should we…?” he asks, reaching out to brush my hair over my shoulder.

  The moment is slipping away. We could get it back if we wanted to—all he’d have to do is kiss me or touch me and I’m certain I’d be right back to where I was a minute ago—but it doesn’t feel quite right anymore. I don’t have a single doubt about Kieran, but part of me does wonder if, despite how I felt earlier, it really is too soon to have sex. If we should explore our emotional connection before getting physical.

  Before I can say anything, he presses his lips to my forehead again and sits up. “How about that tea and tiramisu after all?”

  *****

  The evening creeps toward midnight as we huddle together on Kieran’s bed and drink cups of milky tea while feeding each other tiramisu. He tells me about his classes and the friends he’s been making at school. After some gentle prodding, he tells me more about Aileen; I’m not the type to get jealous over a long-ago ex, but I want to know everything about Kieran, and that includes his romantic history. I also like to know what I’m up against in terms of any baggage he might still be carrying when it comes to the woman who broke his heart.

  I tell him about my minuscule dating history before making a not-so-smooth segue into the travel articles I’ve been writing. And then I explain why I’ve been writing them. I tell him all about my mom. How she adopted me—how she chose me—and always made me her top priority and loved me with everything she had. I tell him about my childhood and how even though it was always just the two of us, I never felt like anything was missing from my life. I tell him about her diagnosis and her decision to move into Birch Hill. And then I tell him about her insisting I stop visiting her so I’d remember the amazing life we had together and the incredible woman she was before Alzheimer’s ravaged her mind.

  The words pour out of me and keep coming, flooding from somewhere I’ve kept blocked off. Everyone in my life already knows about my mom, so this is the first time in ages I’ve shared my story. I rarely talk about her anymore even with my closest friends. Maybe it’s felt safer to keep thoughts of her locked away in my mind, just for me—the good parts and the sorrow. The happy memories and the all-consuming grief. It might not be the healthiest way to deal with things, but it’s worked so far.

  Kieran doesn’t say much, he just wipes away my stray tears as they fall. By the time I’m finished, he reaches for the box of tissues on his desk and takes one before handing the box to me. With gentle movements, he wipes at my cheeks. When he swipes at my chin and neck, I give him a questioning look, then notice the tissue is soaked. I touch my damp face; I’d barely even registered the tears falling except when Kieran would dash them away.

  I open my mouth to say something—to apologize for rambling on and on or for crying a virtual river—but he settles back against the wall and opens his arms. I fall against his shoulder and he wraps his arms around me, holding me tightly against him and running his other hand over my hair. The movement, paired with his quiet breathing and steady heartbeat lull me until my eyelids begin to grow heavy. It must be after midnight by now and I really should go…

  The next thing I know, I’m blinking awake, wondering why Kieran turned the light on. My eyes focus and I realize it’s not the overhead light that’s flooding the room, it’s sunshine. We’re lying down now, with me squished against the wall and Kieran lying precariously close to the edge of the bed.

  I cast my bleary eyes toward the radio clock. A surge of panic rushes through me when I see it’s seven thirty. Shit! I have to be to work in half an hour.

  Easing into a sitting position, I survey the bed and try to figure out the best way to get up without waking Kieran—or worse, sending him crashing to the floor. He mentioned yesterday he doesn’t have class until early afternoon today, so there’s no sense in waking him. Carefully raising myself to my knees, I hold my breath as I fling one leg over Kieran’s body. My foot touches the floor, and I leverage myself over him, feeling pretty damn proud when he doesn’t stir. With both feet firmly on the floor, my breath whooshes out in relief.

  I creep across the room and grab my shoes. If I leave now, I should have just enough time to make it home, change my clothes—no time to shower, but what can you do?—and only be a few minutes late to work. I’ll call Ivy from the car to warn her I’ll likely be a little late. This is one of those times it pays to be best friends with the bosses.

  Glancing up to see if Kieran is still asleep, I spot an open notebook on his desk. I’ll leave a note thanking him for last night and promising to call him later. Part of me wants to wake him, but at this point it would just make me even later. Besides, he looks so peaceful and so beautiful, and after the emotional roller coaster of last night he deserves to sleep in.

  I’ve just finished tying my shoes when he begins to stir. His eyes open and blink a few times before settling on me. A smile automatically inches across his face, but it changes quickly to confusion and then…disappointment? With his eyes on my feet, he shoves himself upright and sits on the edge of the bed.

  He opens his mouth and closes it again, releasing a long sigh. His elbows move to his knees and he drops his head, rubbing his hands over his face before looking at me again. “I thought we worked things out, Meredith. I thought you were going to trust me—trust us—and not run away again. When are you going to get out of your own way?”

  It takes a few beats for his words to sink in. And then another for me to comprehend what he’s actually saying. He thinks I’m running away. “When am I going to get out of my own way?” I laugh bitterly, crossing my arms over my chest. “If that’s what you really think of me, maybe I should make a run for it. Which was not what I was doing, by the way. I was leaving because I have to be to work in less than half an hour. I didn’t want to wake you, so I was going to leave a note.”

  Kieran’s eyes widen as I speak, and color floods his cheeks. He opens his mouth, but I’m pissed and hurt now, so I barrel on before he can say anything.

  “Do you honestly think after everything we talked about last night, after everything I told you, after I literally cried myself to sleep in your arms that I would wake up this morning and be like ‘nah, this isn’t for me after all’?” I turn and pace toward the door, which isn’t exactly satisfying since it’s only a few steps. Facing the door, I take a deep breath. And another. My heart is pounding and I’m on the verge of tears.

  The creaking of springs makes me spin around. Kieran is standing now, moving a few tentative steps forward. I feel myself softening as I take in his adorably disheveled state and his contrite expression. Because the thing is, despite my hurt and anger, I can’t blame him for jumping to conclusions. I screwed up a few weeks ago. Even though we had an amazing night last night and opened ourselves up to each other, sometimes the subconscious mind holds on to things for longer than we expect.

  Don’t fuck this up already, Meredith.

  “I’m so sorry.” His words are as rough as gravel. He scrubs a hand over his face again, momentarily covering his still-pink cheeks. “I can’t believe what an arse I am. Last night I…I’ve never connected to anyone like that before. I should have known better and I’m sorry.” He takes another step forward and reaches for me.

  I don’t hesitate to take his hand. He draws me to him and we wrap our arms around each other. Our bodies are pressed so tightly together I can feel his heart beating against my chest.

  “I guess we both still have some stuff to work through,” I say. “But I meant it last night when I said I’m all in.”

  “I meant it too.
” He eases me back, keeping his hands firmly on my shoulders. “We can get through this together. We just have to believe in each other. Lean on each other. Not assume the worst.” He winces as he says the last part, and I can’t help but chuckle. I also can’t help leaning forward to plant a quick kiss on his lips.

  “I hate to leave, but I really do need to get to work.”

  “If I could get to the Village in the late morning, do you think you could spare some time to meet me for lunch? Or even tea? I know we’ve sorted things, but I hate leaving it like this.”

  “My lunch break on this earlier shift is at eleven.” I glance at my watch. I’m going to be so late. I should probably eat at my desk and keep working, but I want to see Kieran. I still feel raw after our talk last night, and being with him comforts me. “Do you think you could meet me at the Village café at eleven?”

  His bright smile tells me I made the right choice. I’ll just have to bank on the fact Ivy loves me and wants to see me happy. “I’ll be there.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Boyfriend?! You had reconciled yourself to never seeing him again and now he’s your boyfriend?”

  I spin around in my desk chair a couple times before stopping to look at Ivy. That’s basically how I’ve felt for the last two weeks: like I’m spinning. I’ve been on a merry-go-round of emotions—highs and lows—and I’ve reached the point where I’m just holding on and doing my best to enjoy the ride.

  “Yes.” It’s just one word, but saying it makes me giddy. I’m still getting used to the idea of having a boyfriend, let alone saying it out loud. When Kieran and I agreed to be all in, we skipped the traditional dating phase and headed straight to relationship status. The last two weeks have been a whirlwind of work, writing travel articles, spending time with Kieran, and trying to keep up with my other relationships. I don’t know how people do this and stay sane.

  “Well, when did this happen? And how?” Ivy’s voice is pitched high in a combination of surprise and excitement. She’s sitting in one of the chairs on the other side of my desk, leaning forward and watching me with wide eyes. Any talk about romance has always been Ivy’s personal crack; our friend Bridget and I always say she becomes the embodiment of the heart-eyes emoji whenever anyone talks about love or anything remotely romantic.

  “Uh, well…about two weeks ago?” I say slowly, cringing. I’m not the only one who’s been busy the last few weeks. Ivy and I see each other nearly every day, but our conversations have mostly been limited to work-related topics. I had planned to ask her out for coffee and a catch-up after Piper’s last book club meeting, but she wasn’t there.

  If possible, Ivy’s eyes are now even wider. “T-two…?”

  “I know! I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. We’ve only had snippets of time together lately and it was too much to tell you as I was flying in and out of your office or we were passing each other after meetings.”

  Ivy sighs and flops back in her seat. Her body goes boneless, arms hanging limply over the sides of her chair, and head dropped back so she’s staring at the ceiling. I’m about to rise from my chair when she straightens, shaking her head slightly. “Do you ever feel like being an adult is the hardest fucking thing in the world?”

  Surprised by the non-sequitur, I sputter out a laugh. “Um, yeah? All the time, especially lately.” I narrow my eyes, searching her face for something I might have missed the last few weeks. She looks great, though. Amazing, in fact. I’ve taken to pretty much spackling concealor on the dark circles under my eyes, but Ivy looks fresh faced and well rested. She’s…glowing. My mind screeches to a halt and rewinds to our last proper conversation, sitting in Pied Piper’s Books and talking about Ivy’s pregnancy scare. “Is everything okay?” I ask in a measured tone.

  “Yeah, fine.” She crosses her legs and leans forward, tapping her knuckles on my desk. “But we’re talking about you. I want to hear about Kieran.”

  I wait a few beats. When she continues peering at me expectantly, I give in, although I silently vow to get more information out of her later. I start from my unexpected encounter with Kieran in the Loyola cafeteria, and tell her about the last two weeks. How we’ve divided our time between his place and mine, the Loyola cafeteria, and dates at Connelly’s and Luigi’s. How he makes me feel seen and special and safe. How I’m falling for him really fast and trying hard to allow myself to be happy.

  What I don’t tell her about is the ups and downs I’m still experiencing. The number of times I’ve cried on Kieran’s shoulder because I miss my mom, and no matter how much I love being with Kieran, the contentment doesn’t quite fill the black hole inside me. Padding the rest of my free time with work is like putting a patch on a gaping void. Still, despite the fact I’m exhausted, staying busy is the only thing keeping me relatively sane. I work myself so hard that by the time I get into bed, I almost always fall asleep instantly. The alternative—lying awake with nothing but my racing mind keeping me company—isn’t appealing.

  It is getting easier, though. At first, I felt like I was forcing a lot of smiles around Kieran, trying to be high energy so he wouldn’t see what a mess I actually am. Wouldn’t second-guess his decision to be with me. But I quickly learned it wasn’t necessary to be anything other than my true self. Even if that meant being quiet or shedding a few tears. I don’t have to be ‘on’ all the time with Kieran and it’s so wonderfully refreshing.

  “Wow,” Ivy says. “I’m so happy for you, Mer. Kieran sounds incredible.”

  “He really is. I can’t believe I almost screwed things up before they even started.”

  “But you didn’t screw things up, so don’t dwell on that.” Ivy plants her elbows on the desk and leans forward. “Remember when I first started dating Hugh and we agreed not to get too serious because he might be going back to Scotland after Christmas? And I broke my own rules and started falling for him anyway?” She looks at me pointedly, and I can’t help chuckling. “It was you who told me we had met for a reason. And that it was okay to feel what I was feeling and hope for the best. Your talk of signs and the universe and things happening for a reason had a big effect on me.”

  My smile wavers and starts to slip, but I force it back into place. “People usually think I’m crazy when I talk about that stuff.” Hell, part of me feels crazy now for believing in it. I want to believe in the power of the universe again, though. I’ve allowed myself to see some things as signs lately, and yet I can’t accept my mom’s diagnosis and rapid decline as something that was meant to be. I just can’t.

  “Maybe I did at first,” Ivy admits, her eyes sparkling. “But I believe it now. So in case you need a reminder, you’re allowed to be happy and feel hopeful. I know you’ve been having a hellish time since your mom went into Birch Hill, but you’re so strong. You deserve to be happy. She’d want you to be happy.”

  She would. That part is completely, one hundred percent accurate. My mom would want me to be happy. So it makes me feel like shit for feeling like shit. The guilt is a vicious cycle. It’s the part of the merry-go-round that turns into a snarling beast while the bright, beautiful unicorn beckons to me from up ahead. Now if I could just figure out how to get to that unicorn.

  I change the subject by asking Ivy if she’d like a cup of coffee. We’re supposed to be working, but she’s settled back in her chair and doesn’t seem in any hurry to leave. In the interest of saving time, I forego my own two-cup coffee maker and head out into the main office, where Hugh’s assistant keeps freshly brewed coffee throughout the day.

  When I return, coffee cups precariously held in one hand so I can balance a plate of mini muffins in the other, I sit beside Ivy instead of across the desk from her.

  “Now spill, lady,” I say once I’m settled. “What’s up with you?”

  “It’s honestly not a big deal,” Ivy says, slowly peeling the paper off her muffin. “Things with Hugh are great. I love the admin side of my job here and at the bookstore. It’s just…a lot. You know?” She looks up a
t me and I nod for her to continue. “This is not in any way a reflection of my feelings for Hugh or our relationship…and maybe I shouldn’t say this to you of all people when you’re just starting a relationship…but sometimes I think back to my days of being single and how much simpler things were. How much more free time I had.”

  I remain silent, sensing she’s not finished.

  “But I’m happier now. More fulfilled. And it’s not like Hugh and I are together all the time, and he doesn’t make ridiculous demands of me or anything. He’s…amazing.” She says the last word in a tone so dreamy it makes me grin. And then she smacks herself in the forehead and I nearly drop my muffin. “Ugh, what is wrong with me? I don’t even know. I honestly don’t even know.”

  I set my muffin on my desk and reach for her free hand. She lets me hold it, giving it a slight squeeze. She’s used to my touchy-feely approach to things by now. “I think we might be having a bit of the same issue.”

  “What is it? Can it be cured by alcohol?”

  I snort. Ivy’s not a big drinker, but we’ve had some fun, memorable times together over cocktails at Connelly’s. “Well, we could head to the pub right now and find out if you want.” She tilts her head from side to side without answering. “I think the problem is a lack of balance. We’re both so busy all the time. And even when you’re busy doing things you enjoy, it can still be tiring.”

  My balancing act currently feels more like a juggling act. Work here, my part-time writing gig, spending time with Kieran, spending time with Kitty, squeezing in time with Ivy, Bridget, Piper, and Celia. And missing my mom. Worrying about keeping her at Birch Hill.

  “I think you’re right,” Ivy says. “Remember when we met and became friends super fast? I was excited and yet wary. Other than Bridget, I hadn’t made a single close friend since college, and those were temporary friends because we didn’t really keep in touch after graduation. So it was weird and wonderful to suddenly have someone else I could count on and who loved me unconditionally.” She pauses to glance over at me, and the affection on her face makes my throat tighten.