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“Just the easy to reach ones. Made it a little more of a mystery to figure out since it wasn’tallthe lights.” Maggie grins deviously, and I find myself smiling right back. “I am of the opinion that if you really want something, you sometimes have to make your own luck, even if it’s risky.”
I’d like to have her write that down on an index card so I could stick it on my fridge.
“Mom,” Eli mutters from the doorway. “Please. You can’t do things like this.”
“Like what, Elisha?”
He only shakes his head. “Bailey, I’d better get you home.”
Just the mention of home has me yawning. Still, I hate to think about this night ending. Hands down, it was the best birthday of my life.
“She hasn’t finished her tea,” Maggie protests.
“I’ll give her one of my travel mugs,” Eli says. Before he disappears into the kitchen, he waves goodbye, shooting the women a look just as disapproving as the one he gave Maggie.
“You can join us any time,” Maggie says. “Chronic illness or not. Do you read?”
“Yes, but?—”
“Good. What’s your number? I’ll put it in my phone.”
We’ve barely exchanged numbers when Eli appears. I stand, and Maggie does too. Eli pours my tea into the travel mug while Maggie wraps me in another hug.
“I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again soon,” she says. “Verysoon. With or without my son. You don’t need him as an excuse. And the offer to join book club is always open.”
She releases me and steps right into Eli’s open arms. “I love you,” he tells her. “Even if you’re conniving and nosy.”
“You sayconnivingandnosybut all I hear iscaringandconcerned,” Maggie says, turning her head so she can give me a wink.
I’ve hardly buckled my seat belt and plugged my apartment complex’s address into Eli’s GPS when my phone buzzes. Once, then again and again and again. When I glance down at the screen, I’m surprised to see six new texts, all from Maggie.
“My mom loves GIFs,” Eli says, his lips curling up in a smile. “And memes. You might be sorry you gave her your number.”
I doubt that. Losing my mom and dad when I hardly felt like an adult myself left a gaping, parent-sized wound inside me. Maggie just stitched it up part-way with a hug, a few kind words, and an invitation to join her book club.
As much as I know for certain my parents loved me, open affection was not a thing in our household, physical or verbal. Love was just a thing we all understood to be true. A given, like the way you trust the load-bearing walls will keep the house from crumbling down around you even if you don’t ever really think about or acknowledge them.
But I’ve always been a child who craved these givens, and I’m not sure my parents ever understood that, even when I tried to tell them as an adult.
I decide to save Maggie’s texts for later, sliding my phone into my purse. Exhaustion falls over me, a heavy snowdrift of a feeling, and my eyes flutter closed as I snuggle into Eli’s leather seats.
“Cold?” he asks, and I nod without opening my eyes. “I’ll turn on the seat warmers.”
Within moments, I groan softly as warmth radiates through the bottom and back of the seat. “Thank you,” I say through another yawn. They’re coming rapid-fire now, like the tail end of a fireworks show, one right after another.
“I just pushed a button for the seat warmer.” Eli sounds amused.
“No, I mean for everything. The drinks, the Canadian birthday extravaganza, all of it.”
He snorts. “Don’t forget the nightgown.”
“I think I prefer your muumuu.” I tug at the hem, running my fingertip along the ruffle at the bottom.
Eli fiddles with the radio and settles on an indie rock station. The acoustic guitar lulls me toward dreamland, though my brain wants to keep circling back to one niggling worry.
“Does your mom know about?—”
“No.”
