trying to have a normal conversation now? Are we going to pretend it hasn’t been over a decade since we last exchanged a single word.
“Mags—” he starts.
But I stand from my seat as fast as I can. “I can’t do this.” I turn toward the aisle and take two steps up the stairs when he’s behind me.
“Maggie, just give me a minute.”
“You don’t deserve a minute. I shouldn’t even be here right now.”
“But you are,” he says, his tone still hopeful.
“Not for you.” And that’s a lie. It’s a straight-up, hurtful, blatant lie. But I can’t give him the truth. He doesn’t deserve to know how many nights I cried for him or how much I missed him when he was busy making a parallel life because the one he already had wasn’t good enough for him.
I pivot so fast, I feel the wobble in my brain.
“Maggie, wait.” This voice doesn’t belong to my father. Desmond is by my side before I can take another step. He slings an arm over my shoulders. “We’re heading out, Coach. Great game tonight. Give Balko a reaming about those penalties, though.”
“I plan on it,” he says, his tone now sullen. “Drive safe, Des.”
“Always.”
Desmond leads me out of the stadium, and as soon as we hit the concrete sidewalk, I shake him off and walk furiously in the direction of the parking lot. “You told him I was here, didn’t you?”
Desmond jogs to catch up. “Wait a second. You’re mad at me? I mentioned I had to hurry to get back to you. How was I supposed to know that he would practically start running to you?”
I suck in a deep breath and whip around to face him. “It wasn’t your business to mention me. I wasn’t ready to see him.”
“Well, I’m sorry.” Desmond throws his arms in the air. “I’m fucking sorry.”
“Are you? Because you continue to be pretty adamant about the fact that I should just forgive the man since he was so great to you.”
Desmond lets out a heavy breath and takes my hand in his. I don’t have the energy to yank it away. “I’m not telling you how to feel. I have no right to do that. But you don’t need to keep everything so damn locked up inside you.”
“There’s nothing locked up inside me, Desmond. That’s the problem. I’m empty. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you’ll stop trying to see more.”
He’s still holding my hand when he pulls me toward his chest, and my tears threaten to spill. “You are so wrong.” His eyes search mine. “Do you want to know what I see when I look at you, Maggie?”
I slam my lids together and shake my head. “No.” I can’t see him, but I feel his lips slide against my ear. I suck in a deep breath in response.
“You hide behind your beauty like you need protection from the world, when really, it’s the world that needs protection from you. You’re fierce and unapologetic about your worth, which is why it’s absolutely crazy to me that you find it so hard to believe you’re worthy of love, even when there are people out there in the world who beg you to love them back. Your father isn’t perfect, and he made some shitty decisions, but he’s a good man. And he wants another shot.”
I’m shaking so hard, I swear even my breath rattles. “Here’s what you don’t seem to understand. There are years of my life I can never have back. Why should I forgive a thief?”
With that, I turn and march the rest of the way to Desmond’s car. And I don’t make another sound until I’m in my new apartment, alone, with nothing but the walls and windows to hear me cry myself to sleep.
18
Picture Perfect
Desmond
I’m flipping an omelet on the Edible Desire stove when I hear light steps approach from the back room.
“Hungry?” I ask without looking up. There’s only one person it could be, and it looks like she located the back elevator.
Maggie shuffles over, fully dressed for the day in white jeans and a bright-green cotton shirt. Her long hair has been curled, and it falls around her in waves. I could snap a picture of her right this second and it would belong on the cover of a magazine. Then again, she is always picture-perfect.
Her long lashes bat down to see what I’m cooking, and then she raises her gaze to me, steadying those gorgeous eyes like she’s trying