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I just hated the idea of her walking all the way to the hotel and then a receptionist giving her shit. My annoyance at the whole situation was why I acted so forward with her when we were alone in the office. I’d yanked her onto my lap like I had every right to, like she belonged there. Because as far I was concerned, she did.
The combination of her flowery perfume and her jasmine scented shampoo was intoxicating. I could hardly focus on the monitors the entire time she’d sat there as I fought the urge to lean in and kiss her soft, delicate neck.
You need to quit thinking about her.
More and more lately, my head was full of Maggie. I hadn’t been able to stop fretting about what she told me on Sunday, how her mam kicked her out when she was just sixteen. What kind of parent did something like that to their own teenager? She hadn’t elaborated on where she went or what happened to her afterwards, and I hadn’t been able to ask, but just thinking of her all alone and possibly on the streets felt physically painful, even if it happened many years ago.
It was amazing how well she was doing considering her start in life. She’d clearly been self-conscious about her flat, and yes, the building itself was a little rundown, but I’d loved being in her space. It was small and cosy and smelled like her jasmine shampoo. She’d made the place a home, put her stamp on it, and I liked seeing where she spent her time when she wasn’t working or taking the bus.
Remembering my phone, I pulled it out to check if I’d gotten any missed calls or messages while Maggie had it. There was a voicemail from Nigel, but I didn’t bother listening. It was only going to be the same iteration of the apologies he’d given over the last few days. That he was determined to act better and not drink so much anymore. That he was sorry for being a bully to Maggie and her neighbours.
That was all well and good, but I still thought he deserved to suffer for a little longer. And besides, it wasn’t me he needed to be saying sorry to. It was Maggie and her neighbours.
In fact, that was a good idea.
I typed him a message.
Me: Go and apologise to Maggie and her neighbours in person. Then I’ll forgive you.
He didn’t respond right away. It was a few hours later when I was nearing the end of my shift that I finally received a reply.
Nigel: Fair enough. I’ll do it.
I was satisfied with his response until a part of me started to worry he wouldn’t apologise at all and would instead go over there and give her a piece of his mind for telling me what he did.
Nigel had a bit of a petulant, vindictive streak when the mood took him. It wasn’t an admirable quality, but we’d known each other for so long I tended to overlook it. Perhaps that was wrong of me, but I was close to so few people I didn’t want to throw away a friendship just because of one or two small personality flaws.
When I reached the bus stop that evening, Maggie was already there, wrapped up in a patterned scarf, her navy coat buttoned to her chin. A warmth spread across my chest when our eyes met, and my stomach gave a weird pang, like yearning. I wished the bus wasn’t the only place we got to see each other and wondered if she’d come to dinner at my house again. Hopefully, Nigel hadn’t scared her off completely.
“Hey,” she said as I stepped close enough our arms brushed.
I met her gaze, dipping my head in greeting and noticing her cheeks and the tip of her nose were red from the cold. I was struck with the sudden urge to give her some of my warmth. Stepping even closer, Maggie watched me curiously, then inhaled sharply when I lifted her smaller hands into mine. There were faint calluses on her fingers, which made me frown because I knew they came from working so hard. Some part of me wished to whisk her away from it all, make her life frictionless. I wasn’t sure where the instinct came from, but I knew it wasn’t realistic. I wasn’t some rich bloke who could fix all her problems with money, but I could fix one thing right now. I could chase away her chill.
Slowly, I lifted her hands to my mouth, blowing warm air on them, and she inhaled sharply. My hot breath danced along her skin, and I heard her inhale once more, her eyes searching, asking a question, What are you doing?
Making you feel better, mine replied.
Her eyelashes fluttered as she gazed up at me, and once again, I was struck with the sudden urge to kiss her. It took more of that so called willpower of mine not to do it. With my hands still cupping hers, I brought them to her cheeks to heat them up and chase away the cold.
