One Night in Boston (19 page)

“And that’s why you broke up with him? You didn’t think he’d understand?” Neve’s voice sounded pained. “Guys aren’t all that shallow, you know. If he really loved you, he would have understood. He would have—”

“It was more complicated than that,” Maggie interrupted. “It wasn’t something we could have talked about, or planned for. He wasn’t just my boyfriend. I couldn’t warn him about what he was getting himself into, two or three or five years down the road.” She paused. “Jack was my husband. For about twenty-four hours, anyway.”

*

“Which casino should we go to first?” Maggie twirled in the middle of the sidewalk, pointing first to Caesar’s Palace, then to the MGM Grand. “Maybe Mandalay Bay? Or the Venetian? Ooh, look, they have a show…” She stopped beneath an enormous neon sign and read it out loud. She wanted to take it all in, every last sight.

Jack wrapped his arms around her and swooped her up. “We’re only here for twenty-four hours, you know. You might have to pick and choose.”

She buried her head against his chest and nuzzled his neck with kisses. “I want to do everything.”

He laughed out loud. “I know you do.”

She slid to the ground and wound her fingers through his. “Let’s go to the Mirage. I want a fruity drink.” It had been a good idea after all, this trip out West. She wasn’t sure at first, but Jack seemed to like the idea, and Eden and Stefan hadn’t needed any urging at all.

Maggie had wanted something to distract her, to get her mind off the fact that Jack would be leaving in less than a month. She hadn’t been surprised at all that he’d been named a Rhodes Scholar. She knew he would make a terrific businessman someday, the way he planned. Just like his father.

A little butterfly of fear jiggled in Maggie’s stomach. She’d thought about it so many times, but she still hadn’t found a way to tell Jack about her operation. When they’d met in the spring after her recovery, she hadn’t thought she needed to. She didn’t think their relationship was headed down the road to forever. When she realized it was, when she woke up one morning and knew she’d gotten in over her head, the thought of confessing had terrified her. And in the last few months, when Jack looked at her, she saw in his gaze an earnestness that hadn’t been there before, a sobriety that scared the hell out of her.

He’s thinking about marriage…

She’d put the thought out of her head. She couldn’t bear it. She’d met Jack’s parents only once, but his father had made it clear from the start that he couldn’t wait to become a grandfather and pass on the family name. That, of course, was the one thing Maggie couldn’t do for Jack.

Which is why this trip has to be perfect,
she thought.
Just in case it’s the last time we’re together…

At the bar a little while later, the four friends raised their glasses.

“To graduation,” announced Jack.

“And friendship,” Eden added. She leaned over and planted a kiss on Maggie’s cheek.

“And love,” Maggie chimed in. With one hand on Jack’s knee, she clinked her daiquiri glass against the others.
Whatever else happens, Jack Major, you will always be the greatest love of my life.

*

“I think I’m a little drunk.” Maggie leaned against Jack and squinted against the bright bar lights. Her head spun when she tried to stand up, and she wondered how many daiquiris she’d had.

He rubbed the top of her head and glanced at his watch. “It’s almost two,” he said. “Want to go back to the motel?”

“Where are Eden and Stefan?”

“Stef’s playing craps, and Eden’s playing a guy over by the roulette table.”

Maggie giggled. “I’m glad we came.”

He kissed her ear. “Me too.”

Exhaustion weighed down her limbs, but she didn’t want to leave, not yet. Time went by too quickly. She wanted to savor every moment of it, even this: a few quiet seconds on a bar stool next to the man she adored.

She looked outside, amazed at how bright the Strip remained even after midnight. Casinos, restaurants, souvenir shops and wedding chapels dotted both sides of the street. She sat up straight. A crazy idea struck her. Funny the things that almost made sense when you had too much to drink. “You know what would be funny?”

He cocked his head at her. “What?”

“If we got married out here.”

His expression changed. “What did you say?”
Maggie gestured outside. “There’s, like, fifteen wedding chapels in one square mile. Wouldn’t it be funny if we went back to New York and told everyone we’d gotten married out in Vegas?” It wouldn’t ever happen, and probably no one would believe them, but it would be fun to try and fool some of their friends back home. She laughed as she imagined the looks on their faces.

“Yeah,” Jack answered after a long minute. “That would be funny.”

*

Maggie woke suddenly, as if out of a bad dream. Her head ached, and she pulled the sheet over her face.
Should’ve known better
, she told herself.
You can’t have more than two drinks without turning into a complete lush.
She reached for the glass of water she remembered placing beside her bed.

Something felt wrong. Maggie sat up all the way and looked around the room. Small, with faded blue wallpaper and a crooked table in the corner, it was the only room they’d been able to find on such short notice. But that wasn’t it. She didn’t care what the motel looked like, or even what it smelled like, backed up to a twenty-four hour Chinese restaurant. She ran a hand over the bra and panties she still wore, the lavender lace ones Jack had bought her last Valentine’s Day. She stopped, raised her left hand to her face and stared.

What the hell is that?
It looked like a wedding ring, slid firmly into place on her third finger, but it couldn’t be.

Wouldn’t it be funny if we went back to New York and told everyone we’d gotten married out in Vegas?

“Oh, shit.” Maggie clapped a hand over her mouth and glanced over at Jack, who still snored beside her. As quietly as she could, she slid out of bed and tiptoed to the bathroom. Closing the door behind her, she stared into the mirror and fought back tears.

We didn’t get married. Please tell me we didn’t.
She stared at her hand until her eyes crossed and everything blurred.

I can’t marry Jack.
Maggie sank onto the toilet seat and pulled some paper off the roll to blot her face. Life sucked. Life was totally unfair. Every ounce of her desire belonged to him. Every part of her wanted to marry him. She dropped her head into both hands. But she couldn’t. Jack wasn’t meant for her, a little girl from upstate New York who was missing half her insides. He came from money and power and prestige. He didn’t brag about any of those things, but they were part of who he was, and Maggie didn’t fit into that world. Never would. Never really wanted to.

Plus, she’d lied to him. Or rather, she hadn’t told him the complete truth about her past. Once he found out, he wouldn’t want to be her husband. He wouldn’t want to be married to someone who’d kept such an awful secret from him.

My husband…
she tried out the word on her tongue.
Solid and scary
, she thought. The tears started up.
Well, there’s only one solution. I knew it was only a matter of time before we broke up. Better now than later, I guess.
The thought made her nauseous, and she bent over the sink until she was sure she wouldn’t lose last night’s dinner.

Maggie stared at the doorknob.
You can do this
.
Just walk in there and tell him it was a mistake. You were drunk. So was he…wasn’t he? It doesn’t matter. He’ll understand. He’ll know it’s the right thing to do
. She steeled her nerves and pulled open the door.

“Jack?”

He rolled over. “Yeah?”

Maggie sat down on the bed beside him, careful to keep a few inches between them. “What is this?” Hands spread on the sheet, she stared at her fingers.

He frowned. “The bed?”

“No. What is this?” She traced the silver band.

He sat up and rubbed his eyes. She glanced down at his left hand. A matching band, slightly wider, circled his own third finger.

“Did we—” She stopped and tried to steady her voice. Her gaze darted around the room, taking in the half-empty bottle of champagne on the bureau, the wilted white roses, the videotape labeled “Maggie and Jack.”

“We didn’t really get married last night, did we? Tell me it was a joke, or that I’m having a dream. Or something.”

He continued to stare at her, not saying a word, and she knew it wasn’t a dream at all. Pieces of the night began to come back to her. A small, white room. A tall bearded man smiling down at them. Piped-in music filling the space, and the overwhelming smell of flowers. She began to pace around the tiny motel room.

“Mags, wait a minute.”

I have to get out of here
.
I have to think.
Before Jack could say anything else, she pulled on a t-shirt and shorts and fled. Outside, in the littered parking lot, the morning sun shone down without mercy. Where was she supposed to go? In her flip-flops, she trudged across the pavement to the chain link fence at the back of the property. On the other side, beyond some sad, drooping hedges, ran a highway. Past that, the Nevada desert stretched out as far as she could see. Even at six in the morning, traffic hummed. Life never really stopped moving, she supposed. Maggie chewed at a fingernail and wondered if holding her breath would halt time. Or better yet, spin it backwards, so she could undo the huge error she’d just made.

Footsteps approached. “Mags, what’s going on?” Jack’s voice, quiet and confused, pained her. She didn’t turn around because all she wanted was to fold herself into his embrace. It took everything she had to keep her distance. This would be a thousand times harder if he touched her. If he kissed her.

“It was a mistake,” she said. She didn’t meet his gaze, just continued to look into empty space. Heat pressed down on the back of her neck. She swallowed to keep herself from taking back the words. She turned in time to see his eyes turn from light green to something darker, something sadder.

“Listen, we shouldn’t have. It’s just—I’m not ready. You’re going halfway around the world, and—”

“I want you to come with me.”

“I can’t.”

He paused, her chin jutting out a little at her refusal. “You mean you don’t want to.”

Oh, Jack. It’s what I want more than anything. But there are things you don’t know. I wish I could tell you about the part of me I lost when I was fifteen. I wish I could tell you about the operation that changed me when I was nineteen.
Maybe if she just came out and told him everything, he’d forgive her. He’d tell her it was okay, that he’d still want her to be his wife. But she couldn’t bear to look into his eyes if he changed his mind, so she lied instead. In the end, it seemed easier.

“I have two years of school left. I can’t just follow you to England.”

“You could transfer. You could study there with me. Or we could just wait until you graduate. Two years is a hell of a long time, but it isn’t forever.”

“We’re too young.”

“Don’t you love me?”

Oh, God, you’re killing me.
“Of course. More than you’ll ever know.” She straightened, shaking off the hand he put on her wrist. She needed to say the next words as fast as she could. “Listen, we were drunk. It was a mistake. We can’t get married now. It doesn’t make sense. Let’s just get it annulled as soon as possible.”

She wanted Jack to stop her, to say something, to take her by the arms and shake her until she changed her mind.

“If that’s what you want,” he said instead, looking at his feet.

“It’s best for both of us. We’re too young.”
And I’m too broken.

*

From the corner of her eye, Maggie watched as Neve’s jaw fell.

“Yeah. That’s what happened.” She couldn’t bear to recall the way Jack had looked at her, happy and hopeful, while they stared at the matching silver rings on their fingers.

She shifted in her seat. “He actually believed we could have worked things out.” She shrugged. “I knew we couldn’t. There was this huge lie hanging between us, and it was all my fault. I couldn’t have him find out years later that I’d trapped him, that he was married to a wife who couldn’t give him kids. So we got an annulment.”

“You never told him the real reason why?”

“I couldn’t.” That was the end of the story, plain and simple, Maggie thought.

Sometimes, it’s easier to break things off and leave certain secrets in the darkness. Some lies are easier to tell than others. “It was a mistake,” rolls off the tongue less painfully than “I can’t have children” or “I’m sorry I never told you in the first place.” So we choose the lies we tell, the lies we’ll live by, and we move on. We move apart. We find new lives and try not to make the same mistakes again.