Maybe You

by Marie Landry

  He shakes his head almost imperceptibly and takes my face in his hands once more. “You deserve to be whole for yourself first and foremost. I’m in love with you, Meredith, broken pieces and all. I have my own broken pieces and you’ve helped me put them back together and heal. Now it’s your turn to let me help you heal.”

  “I love you so much, Kieran.” I lean forward and press my lips to his. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “You’ll never have to find out. I’m going to be right here by your side for as long as you’ll have me. Hugh is already looking into therapists and we’re going to do whatever it takes to make you feel like your old self again.”

  “What if…what if I never feel whole again? What if I never get back to the happy, sunny person I used to be?”

  His eyes dart away from mine. His teeth catch his bottom lip and he gnaws on it for a minute, thinking. Finally, he says, “Maybe you won’t ever feel the way you used to. But maybe, given time, you’ll feel like a different person and you’ll learn to love her and live fully as her. I wish I could give you some sort of guarantee, but I can’t. Just know I’ll love you—any version of you—even if that version still feels a little broken. And even if you can’t quite heal that broken part of you and you feel like you don’t shine as brightly as you once did, you’ll always be like sunshine to me.”

  I turn his words over in my head. When Kieran said I might end up loving the person I become, something clicked into place for me. I have to accept the fact I may never be the same. But isn’t that what life is all about? Change? I’ve been so worried about not being the person I used to be, but maybe I’ll transform into a new, even better person. Someone I can be proud of. Someone my mom would be proud of. An equal partner for Kieran, keeping him anchored the way he’s done for me all this time.

  A glimmer of hope flickers to life amid the darkness and pain inside me. My mom always said I was born to shine my light and shine it bright. I don’t think it’s a coincidence I fell in love with someone who calls me Sunshine, just like she did. I have a long road ahead of me, and if I’m completely honest, the thought makes me want to crawl right back into bed, but I’m not going to do that.

  I’m going to be strong and I’m going to find that inner light again, no matter how long it takes.

  EPILOGUE

  I step outside and tilt my face toward the sky, soaking up the late morning sunshine. Someone calls goodbye to me and I turn to wave at my yoga instructor, Lexi.

  It’s been three months since that day at Birch Hill when something in me snapped. My life looks the same on the outside, but it feels like everything has changed. And almost all of it, thankfully, is for the better.

  My family doctor officially diagnosed me with depression, and with his and Hugh’s help I’ve been seeing a therapist for a little over two months. Dr. Langdon has been incredible; our sessions are often painful, and I cry more often than not, but in getting me to acknowledge my grief and anger, I’ve begun the process of healing. Dr. Langdon has a touch of the new age to her, which I connected with immediately, and she recommended I try yoga and meditation, which have been game changers for me.

  With my mind quiet and my limbs wonderfully loose, I leave the yoga studio and start walking toward the café where I’m meeting Kieran for lunch. I pause outside the Canadian Mental Health Association and look over the fliers in the window. I smile when I see one for Human Touch Companions, but it’s the Grief Support Group poster that catches my attention, as it has been doing the last few weeks. Dr. Langdon thinks it would be a good idea if I attended, but I told her I feel like a fraud because my mom is still alive.

  “That doesn’t make your grief any less real, Meredith,” she has said more than once in that calm, measured way of hers. “You’re allowed to feel what you feel, and your emotions are valid. These people will understand.”

  I’m still not sure. Crying on Kieran’s shoulder or to my friends or in Dr. Langdon’s office is one thing, but breaking down in front of a group of strangers…hearing their tales of suffering and loss…it makes my chest tighten just thinking about it. Ivy and Hugh have both offered to go with me since they’ve lost their parents, and while I love them for it I’ve put it in my ‘maybe’ category for now.

  I continue down the street to the café. I don’t see Kieran yet and our favorite outdoor table is free, so I claim it. Rifling around in my purse, I pull out the latest book for Piper’s book club and the journal that goes with me everywhere. I started it at Dr. Langdon’s suggestion, as a place to write my general thoughts and feelings. She eventually urged me to slowly start digging deeper and write about some of the things we discuss in our sessions. It hurt like hell at first and there were a few times I ended up chucking the notebook across the room in a fit of tears, but now I actually enjoy it.

  In fact, it’s become such a big part of my everyday life, I actually have fun with it now. Especially since Dr. Langdon told me it’s time I start thinking about traveling again. “You’re a traveler, Meredith,” she said one day a few weeks ago. “It seems to be in your blood, yet you’ve been in one place for a long time now. I understand it was out of necessity at first, but you know your mother is being well looked after at Birch Hill, and you’re not under the same financial strain you were even just a few months ago. Let go and allow yourself to start dreaming. Start planning. You have a bright future ahead of you and you’re allowed to be excited about it.”

  So that’s what I’m doing. I started by writing down simple things I want to do with Kieran and my friends this summer and fall, and then I worked up to bigger things and even things I want to do next year. Dr. Langdon has pointed out again and again that Mom would want me to live fully. She told me so herself before she began to slip away. Mom always said my lust for life amazed and inspired her, made her want to be better and do better. Thinking about that was a source of suffering at first because I was still trying to reconcile the vibrant woman who raised me with the stranger I saw at Birch Hill. But it slowly got easier, and I’ve learned to redirect my thoughts to something positive when the hurt and anger try to take over.

  I’m learning to accept the fact there’s no miracle cure for depression, and no timeline either. Even though my good days are starting to outweigh the bad ones, I still feel the darkness lurking. I still have days where it’s a struggle to get out of bed or it feels like I’m slogging through quicksand during my workday. But I’m adjusting to my new normal, and to life without Mom. That light inside me that I was worried was buried forever has been flickering to life and growing stronger. It’s a work in progress. I’m a work in progress and that’s okay.

  “Dear Diary, Kieran asked me to run away with him and I said yes!”

  I laugh as Kieran swoops down and plants a noisy kiss on my cheek. “Actually, it’s more like ‘Dear Diary, a completely mad but hella sexy Irishman convinced me it was time for adventure…’”

  His laughter cuts me off. “I like the ‘hella sexy’ part. Feel free to use that more often.”

  “I will.” I tilt my face up for a proper kiss. Kieran covers my mouth with his, kissing me as if we haven’t seen each other in weeks, even though we just saw each other two hours ago. I’ll never get tired of that.

  The waitress comes to our table as Kieran sits down, and we both order iced coffee and a sandwich. The architect he’s been working for part-time since the beginning of summer holidays is nearby, so this has become our routine on my days off.

  “So,” Kieran says. His eyes are brighter than usual and he can barely contain the grin spreading across his face. It takes me a moment to catch on, and when I do my heart leaps and a grin of my own stretches over my face.

  “They’re here?”

  “They’re here.” He pulls an envelope from the small satchel he carries around with his drawing pad and various tools. “They arrived this morning and I printed them off at work.”

  He extends the envelope across the table. Instead of releasing it when
I grip it, he holds on until I meet his eyes again.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “Positive. Are you?” I may be doing better, but that doesn’t stop doubts and worries from creeping in occasionally, especially where Kieran is concerned. We’ve been through so much—I’ve put him through so much—and there’s still a tiny part of me that fears he’ll grow tired of me. Thankfully, that part is shrinking as Kieran proves over and over he’s not going anywhere and he wants a future with me.

  He releases the envelope and reaches for my hand, clutching it tightly. “Yes. No doubts whatsoever. This is going to be epic, Meredith.”

  Excitement bubbles in my stomach and I can’t help the giddy giggle that comes with it. “It is going to be epic.” I open the envelope and pull out two plane tickets from Toronto’s Pearson Airport to London’s Heathrow, dated three weeks from today.

  “I don’t know how I’ll ever thank your mom for paying for these,” I say.

  “When she had the tickets sent this morning, she said she knew you’d say that. She wanted me to assure you that, and I quote, ‘Continue loving Kieran and being good to each other, and that’s all the payment I’ll ever need’.”

  I aim for a light, “Aww,” but it comes out sounding choked. Kieran’s dad is still as awful as he said he was right from our first meeting, and his siblings aren’t my favorite people in the world, but his mom is truly lovely. She and I talk on the phone regularly, and while she’s completely different from my own mom, having her in my life has helped ease some of my grief.

  Kieran squeezes my hand. “You’ve made all the arrangements with Fiona?”

  “We’re all set. We’ll be staying with her until the tour starts, and then all our transportation and accommodation are taken care of as part of the tour.”

  The fully paid for tour. Fiona and I have kept in touch, and when I continued turning down offers to work for On the Go Adventures as anything other than a blogger, she asked if I’d be interested in taking another of her tours and writing about it, this time from the perspective of someone traveling with a romantic partner. On the Go is known for being popular with solo travelers and groups of friends, but they want to branch out and draw in more couples. With Kieran’s input, I’ll be writing an in-depth series about the two-week tour through England, Scotland, and Ireland from a couple’s perspective.

  Things that won’t make it into my travel series, but that I’m looking forward to: a side trip to Inverness in Scotland to meet up with Hugh and Ivy while they’re on holiday there, and another in Dublin where we’ll be visiting Kieran’s parents. I’m not so thrilled about seeing Mr. O’Malley again, and I hope to avoid Kieran’s siblings, but I’m looking forward to seeing Maeve, and to having Kieran show me where he lived until he came to Canada.

  “You realize this is going to be another test for our relationship,” I say. “I’ve always said if you can travel with someone without killing them, you can make it through anything life throws at you.”

  Kieran chuckles. “I’ve a feeling we’ll pass this test with flying colors. I already know I can get through anything life throws at me as long as you’re by my side, Sunshine.”

  “Ooh, good response.” I say it in a teasing tone, but I can’t deny the way my heart soars at his words. I also can’t deny how pleased I am he still calls me ‘Sunshine’ and that in the last few weeks I’ve started to feel like I deserve that nickname again.

  “It’s the truth.” He lifts up from his seat and leans across the table, cupping my face and kissing me lightly. When he releases me, I grin at him and pull him back in, kissing him deeper. I want him to feel every ounce of love and trust I’m feeling right now.

  Because he’s absolutely right: we can get through anything life throws at us as long as we’re together.

  ~*~*~*~

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for taking the time to read Maybe You! I hope you enjoyed Meredith and Kieran’s story, and if you did, it would mean the world to me if you’d take a minute to write a review on Goodreads and the retailer of your choice. It doesn’t have to be long or detailed; reviews are so important because they help people decide whether to read a book or not, and that’s especially important for a small indie author like me. You have the power to influence other readers!

  Maybe You is a standalone, but Meredith was first introduced in my 2018 novel, Only You. If you haven’t read it yet, keep flipping pages for a sneak peek at the first chapter.

  I’d love to hear from you. You can find all my contact information on my blog, and I’m available on Facebook, Twitter, GoodReads, and Instagram. Subscribe to my mailing list so you’ll never miss my writing updates, sales, promotions, book recommendations, plus bits and pieces of my random adventures. You can also join my Facebook reader group, Marie’s Sweeties, where you’ll get news before anyone else, plus sneak peeks at my writing, giveaways, and fun discussions.

  With love and gratitude,

  Marie

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A huge thank-you to the first people who read Meredith and Kieran’s story and helped me polish it: Nancy Landry, Brenda St John Brown, Kaley Stewart, and JaimeKristal Lott. Your help, enthusiasm, and support mean the world to me.

  Thank you to my soul sister and lifelong friend, Krista. You may not be involved in the actual writing or publishing process, but you’re one of the people who keeps me going behind the scenes with laughter, adventures, superhero movies, more junk food than any two people should ever consume, and most importantly, unconditional love.

  Thank you to three amazing friends who also happen to be incredibly talented writers: Jaimie Admans, Brenda St John Brown, and Jacquelyn Middleton. Thank you for your love and support, for commiserating about how hard this biz can be (but also how wonderful, and how lucky we are to be doing what we love), and so much more. Jaimie, my tireless cheerleader, thank you for the Richard Madden gifs and keeping me supplied with UK chocolate. Brenda, thank you for the authentic Scottish goodies, for spot-on book recommendations, and for taking the piles of crap I hand you and turning them into the synopses of my dreams (seriously, if any of you bought either Maybe You or Only You based off the synopsis, you have Brenda to thank for that). And Jackie, thank you for your incredible generosity and for fangirling with me. I hope we can hang out again soon!

  And finally, thank you, dear reader, for inviting Meredith and Kieran into your lives for a few hours. I had so much fun writing this story, and I’m thrilled it’s finally out in the world. An extra special shout-out to all the bookstagrammers, bloggers, and other book-loving people online who share their love and passion for books with the world. I’ve said it before, but it bears repeating: you guys are the unsung heroes of the publishing industry. Thank you!

  Have you read Only You? If you haven’t and you want to watch Ivy and Hugh fall in love, read on for the first chapter, then pick up a copy of this funny, sweet, sexy romance today!

  One perk of your best friend also being your boss: she sees when you’re stressed to the max and tells you to cut out of work a few hours early.

  I hardly know what to do with myself as I push through the doors of the high-rise building where Quest Marketing Solutions is housed. Should I go shopping? Get my nails done? Head to the bookstore, aka heaven on earth? As tempting as browsing books is, the only truly appealing thing is a nice warm bath in an empty apartment. And if I want to do that, my window of opportunity is small.

  Alone time has become a novelty in the last few months since I reluctantly took in a roommate. Celia is one of those ‘cousins’ who’s not an actual relative; her parents are good friends with the aunt and uncle who raised me after my parents were killed in a car accident, and our families spent a lot of time together. Between a six-year age difference and Celia’s general snarkiness, we never connected. That didn’t stop me from agreeing to perform my family duty when my aunt informed me Celia was moving back to town after dropping out of college, and then not-so-subtly suggested I offer
to rent her the spare room in my apartment. Fan Chen is not someone you say no to, even when she’s living halfway across the world in China and I’m here in Canada.

  I try to live my life with no regrets, but saying ‘yes’ to Aunt Fan that day and extending an invitation to Celia has caused nothing but regrets. Big ones. Endless ones. In the last four months, Celia has had three different jobs, all of which she’s been fired from for various reasons, including being surly with customers and failing to perform the tasks required of her. When we’re at home, she’s constantly bitching about something, plus she eats my food even though she has her own. Some days I feel like I’m one snide remark away from wringing her neck.

  Alone time is definitely the way to go right now. For my sanity and for everyone else’s personal safety.

  When I reach my car, I toss my purse in the passenger seat and blast the heater. It’s only early November, but there’s a nip in the air that makes me think Mother Nature has forgotten it’s still technically autumn.

  Something shiny catches my eye, and I bend to pick up a gum wrapper from the floor. Celia seems to think my car is a garbage receptacle. Our schedules don’t often mesh (thank god), so she grudgingly takes the bus most of the time. Whenever I do give her a ride anywhere, she inevitably leaves a mess for me to clean up—coffee cups, gum and granola bar wrappers, and that memorable time she left a chocolate bar on the backseat in August and it melted into a sticky brown puddle. I discovered it after setting my reusable cloth grocery bags on top of it. The chocolate never did come out, and I refuse to carry around a bag that looks like it has a poop stain on it.

  During the ten minute drive home, I make a plan. Celia should be home around seven, so I need to maximize every blessed moment of my alone time. First, I’m going to have a bath. I’ve been showering since the first week Celia moved in and informed me, lip curled in disgust, that having a bath was like stewing in your own filth. I’ve been hoarding the luxury strawberry-champagne bath bomb my best friend Bridget gave me ages ago, waiting for a Celia-free moment to finally use it. Next, I’ll pour myself a glass of wine—because I’ve never been above day drinking—and then I’ll soak in the tub until I’m all pruny and fruity smelling. After that, I’ll squeeze in a bit of TV if I have time.