MAGPIE (19 page)

***

Our trip home was effortless, at least for me. I let Greg take the lead while I sat back, enjoying the carefree experience. He managed our bags, called our town car, and navigated the airport with the expertise of a world traveler—after all, he was one. There was Wi-Fi on the flight, and Greg spent much of the time online. I chose to close my eyes and doze, which was easy in first class. Edward picked us up at DIA, and we headed to my house, saying very little along the way.

Shortly before turning into my neighborhood, Greg said, “I had a great time, Mags. I hope you did too.”

“You’re kidding, right? Oh my God, Greg, it was fantastic! The whole trip was like a dream, a
very
good dream.” I did, indeed, speak the truth this time.

“I’m glad, Mags. I’m hoping we can pick up where we left off.” He’d turned serious, and I wasn’t sure how to take it.

“Where we left off? What do you mean?”

“I told you I loved you, Mags, and I meant it. I’d like to know how you feel about me.”

Greg’s comment came out of left field and I was not prepared to respond, “Sure, we can talk Greg but not now. Why don’t we get together this weekend? Trust me, I want to talk about this.” I was buying time to figure out my feelings for Greg.

“That sounds like a plan.” Greg said flatly as we arrived at my house.

Edward unloaded my bags and took them to the front porch.

In step behind his driver, Greg walked me to the door and said, “Thanks, Mags. I look forward to this weekend. I’ll call with details.”

Smiling, I said, “Oh Greg, thank you. I’ll never forget these past two days.”

Not returning my smile, Greg said, “Oh, and Maggie? Lose your fucking friend.”

Speechless, I stood on my porch, keys in hand, and watched Greg walk back to the car, never turning back before the black sedan drove off.

CHAPTER 9

Rebounds Abound

Today, 1:36 AM

MAGS: U up?

DANIEL: Am now

MAGS: I woke u?

DANIEL: Naw, watching porn

MAGS: Ugh!

DANIEL: Jk, whassup?

MAGS: My trip went south

DANIEL: That why u wanted to talk?

MAGS: That was for another reason, doesn’t matter now

DANIEL: ??

MAGS: Can we talk?

DANIEL: Sure, gimme 5

MAGS: Me 2

I hadn’t been able to sleep. The last couple of days had been a whirlwind, rage hovering in the eye of the cyclone. Normally, I blame myself for relationship failures. With Greg, I dug a little deeper and noticed red flags rippling behind his good looks and charm. Not caring to know what he did for a living was the brightest one; I knew better.

It wasn’t so much
what
he did but where, for how long, and with whom…not to mention whether it was legitimate—Katie’s greatest concern. Beyond his work, Greg’s control issues came to light the day he walked away from my front steps after our tumultuous trip. In retrospect, I should have paid attention to the sense of foreboding I felt when, after one of our first dates, he insisted on coming inside. Instead, I fell headfirst into a pool of seductive overindulgence.

I’d been in a contemplative mood since walking through my door the day Greg dropped me off, refusing to go out. Wanting to purge the asshole from my life, I avoided all distractions. Luckily, I’d taken a vacation day Friday, so no need to call in. It was early Saturday morning, and I was restless. And the person I most wanted to talk to was Daniel.

“Hey, you,” Daniel answered cheerfully. I wasn’t sure if he was always that chipper in the wee hours of the morning or if he was scrambling to rouse good cheer in me.

“Hi, Danny. Thanks for taking my call.” I made a weak attempt to mask my troubles: one quarter feigned cheer and three quarters authentic angst.

Concerned, Daniel asked, “Mags, you don’t sound like yourself. What happened in New York?”

“It’s not what happened in New York; it’s what happened afterward,” and so began the tale of my wicked adventure.

I provided a little history, too. I told him what I knew of Greg’s work and how he delighted in showing me a first class time. I shared a good deal about our sex life, explaining that it was some of the best sex I’d ever had. Hearing it out loud, I began to understand how I could feel so torn.

When I got around to our trip to New York, Daniel cut in, “Wait a second, Mags. I think I know you pretty well, and I know you like your routine, your schedule—your life in order. How could this guy convince you to take off, mid-week, to New York?”

Good question, my friend.

“I kinda figured you’d ask that. My sister was concerned about that, too. But I came to the conclusion that
because
of my friggin tight-assed life, I needed to live a little, break out of my mold, you know?” I hated clichés but the image of me stuck in “Mag’s mold” was stark, illustrating how I felt about my life and how I’d chosen to live it since losing my husband and son.

“Mags, you have to know that I love how confident you are. You live your life according to your own terms and it’s sexy as hell. You are one of the most self-assured women I know, at least virtually, anyway.”

I was struck by Daniel’s sense of me. I really didn’t expect it, and tears began to well.

He went on, “Baby, I know you think we’re just fuck buddies, but I care deeply about you and what goes on in your life. This guy—what’s the asshole’s name? He’s not good for you. I know he seduced you with a glamorous few days, but, Mags, that’s not you.”

I’d always loved Daniel’s smooth voice. Over the past six months, it coaxed my long-buried passion, lured me to sweet, uninterrupted sleep and made me guffaw until my sides hurt. Tonight was different, though. For the first time, Daniel’s words were comforting, almost nurturing. In my experience, only close friends and family supported me through difficult times. How the hell could a man I’d never met know me so well? How could he be
exactly
what I needed in this
exact
moment?

Choking back tears, I said, “You make me feel so secure—not in an overprotective sense, but secure in my own skin, if that makes sense. You live thousands of miles away, and yet, it feels like you’re right here with me.” I swallowed and asked, “What do I do now?”

“I’m not going to
tell
you what to do, Mags. I can’t do that. I won’t do that. You already know anyway…you just have to accept it and carry it out. Maggie, you’ll get through this.”

He was right. I did know, but I didn’t have the foggiest idea how to do it. I was sure that Greg was not the kind of guy that went down easily—I’d have to really think it through.

“Danny?”

“Yeah, baby…”

“Tell me a funny story, I don’t care if you make it up. I just need to laugh.” I said, fluffing my pillow and settling in for a bedtime story.

“Oh, Mags, this is
not
fiction, seriously! You won’t believe what happened at the U.S. Open last month…”

***

Daniel’s story was hilarious, easing me into a deep sleep where I stayed until almost ten o’clock the next morning. I felt extremely rested, thankfully. The morning’s chill was gone, and it looked to be a beautiful autumn day. I’d planned to start my Thanksgiving menu but decided to go for a much-needed jog. I hadn’t been very active lately, and my body protested with stiff muscles and achy joints. Cody knew my solo drill and moped back to his bed, refusing the kibble I’d just poured.

My heart hurt. I followed him into my room and said, “Cody, I wish I could take you, buddy. You just wouldn’t make it.” I bent down and gave my dear friend a bear hug. Scratching behind his ears with both hands, I said, “Tell you what, let’s take a drive when I get back!” My inflection stirred Cody’s enthusiasm, and he forgot his brooding and dove for his food.

November weather in Colorado is anyone’s guess, including the well-dressed and overpaid local meteorologists. The beginning of the month was downright frigid, like the day ahead was forecast to be. I hated jogging in the cold; it hurt my lungs and made me grumpy. Still, I needed it, so off I went. My “Kick Ass Women” playlist was streaming through my headphones, helping me find my rhythm, which didn’t take long. Despite the cold, lots of folks were out jogging, cycling and walking their dogs. I felt a pang of guilt every time I passed a human-canine couple. I missed Cody’s youth and swore our ride later that day would include a hot dog and an ice cream cone just for him.

As always, I felt great by the time I got home. Why don’t I remember
that
feeling when I vacillate on my exercise regimen? I made my usual breakfast even though it was closer to lunchtime. While my oats simmered, I jumped in the shower, dissecting my conversation with Daniel the night before. My feelings for him had intensified, confusing the hell out of me. It wasn’t like I was falling in love with Daniel, but I was drawn to his kindness, humor, intelligence and, yes, his irresistible sensuality—all of which he expressed so easily from sixteen-hundred miles away. I cared a great deal for my Atlanta phantom and wished like hell I could snuff those feelings.

“Why can’t you find a regular guy within ten fucking miles, Maggie?” I nagged to the only person within earshot: me.

Cold Saturdays meant yoga pants, a turtleneck and whatever sweatshirt was in reach. I grabbed my favorite, a worn gray treasure with “GEORGETOWN” spread across the front. I’d dreamed of going to law school there, and a friend had sent it to me on her first day of classes. It wasn’t fit to wear in public, so I kept it for lounging around the house, or a quick jaunt to Katie’s.

I poured a cup of coffee and tossed some nuts and dried fruit into a small bowl of oatmeal. Sitting at the breakfast bar, enjoying my morning ritual, I heard my phone go off.
Shit
. Greg had sent a text, which was something he rarely did. I wanted this day to be Cody’s and mine. Still, the pull was too great, so I unlocked my phone and read his message,

Today, 11:32 AM

GREG: Can we talk?

What a fucking pantywaist. “
I
can talk, asshole, but can
you
?” I blurted out. Well, it might just be fun toying with Greg, who was apparently feeling uneasy,

MAGS: Bout what?

GREG: I think u know

MAGS: Nope, I don’t

GREG: Can I call?

MAGS: Can’t, leaving for the day

GREG: Later then?

MAGS: Prob can

GREG: Have a great time, whatever u r doing

MAGS: I will, thanks!

I didn’t enjoy playing games, but meeting Greg at his level seemed to be the best approach to ending it with him; wasn’t interested in patching things up—ever. The sinister side of me wanted him to stew.

Serves him right
.

I took my dishes to the sink and gave them a quick rinse; I’d wash them when I got back. Grabbing my daypack from the hall closet, I stuffed it with a few Cliff Bars (for me) and Milk-Bones (for Cody). Scooping up the gallon jug of water near the side door along with a collapsible water dish, I made my way to the garage to start Beater. I’d pick up a large bottle of coconut water for me on the way. When I came back into the house to get Cody and the rest of my hiking gear, I noticed another text message. It was from Daniel, wishing me a fantastic day and urging me to forget about Greg. Smiling, I stuffed my phone into my bag and headed out for a fabulous afternoon with my favorite boyfriend.

***

An hour later, we’d found a trailhead in Elk Meadow Park, situated just outside of Evergreen, a delightful mountain town about fifteen miles west of Denver. Jack and I used to hike the area with Michael. Due to poor planning leaving us with just a few hours of daylight, Cody and I took a shorter route, avoiding the summit of Bergen Peak. Instead, we hiked a lower elevation trail, hugging the base of the mountain. About an hour and a half into it, we chowed our snacks and, with the light fading quickly, headed back to Beater.

Cody plopped in the rear seat and, within a few minutes, loud snoring filled the cab. My legs were burning, more from my earlier jog than our easy hike. I was daydreaming about a hot soak in the tub when I heard my phone. I took it out of my bag and noticed that a call had gone to voicemail. It was Greg.

“Fuck!” I shouted, interrupting Cody from his delicious dream, surely involving a never-ending rabbit chase.

“Sorry, buddy. Go back to sleep,” I said I as slammed my phone into the passenger seat. I vowed to ignore Greg for the rest of the ride home and played Crosby-Stills-Nash & Young’s Déjà Vu CD, singing loudly to “Carry On.”

Cody and I walked into the house like we’d trekked Everest. I could barely lug the last of the gear past the doorway. Cody was beat, too; he barely ate his kibble before collapsing on his bed. I hadn’t heard from Greg—a good thing, for sure—and ran a bath.

Not hungry, I downed two glasses of melon-infused water before the tub (and my wine glass) was full. A very tasty Malbec in hand, I eased into a bubbly concoction of vanilla mineral bath and a splash of lavender oil. I’d brought my phone into the bathroom and, glancing at it, wished I’d left it in my bag.

Just then, it buzzed with a text. It was Daniel. Questioning my teenage-like addiction to the device, I hesitated. Still, my curiosity won, and I unlocked the screen and read his text,

Today, 6:19 PM

DANIEL: It’s freezing here!

MAGS: U don’t know freezing

DANIEL: Our roads are covered in ice

MAGS: Ya, right

DANIEL: Was stuck in traffic 4 hrs today!

MAGS: Cuz of a little ice?

DANIEL: We have no road equipment, ms mountain mama!

MAGS: Can’t believe u called me that!

DANIEL: Can’t believe u don’t feel pity :(

MAGS: Poor baby

DANIEL: More like it

MAGS: Need to relax?

DANIEL: The purpose of my text, sexy

MAGS: What if I told you I was soaking, naked, in a tub of vanilla and lavender bubbles…

DANIEL: I’d say, nice, very nice

MAGS: What if I told you I was extremely wet

DANIEL: I’d say u r making me hard

MAGS: What if I told you my pussy was really swollen