“She wasn’t trying to hurt me. She didn’t know I liked her.”
“Yeah, well, you could have been a little more forthcoming with your feelings. We women can’t read minds either, you know?”
Maggie sighed when I grabbed another glass, but she didn’t stop me. She must have resigned herself to the fact that I was intent on getting drunk.
“I was plenty forthcoming last night. I couldn’t have been any more forthcoming,” I said, thinking of how many things I’d said to her last night, how many times I’d told her I loved her with my words while my body made love to hers. “And her being up in her hotel room with my brother right now pretty much answers how she took me opening up to her.”
Maggie’s beer slipped away from her lips. “You’re shitting me, right? She’s with him right now, up there?” Twisting in her stool, her eyes ran up the length of the hotel tower looming behind us.
I kept my eyes aimed out at the ocean. It was dark, but I could still make out the stirrings of a storm. The wind was picking up, more gusty than breezy. “I wish I was shitting you.”
“What a bitch,” she snapped.
“Maggie.”
“What?” She gave me a look, unfazed by the warning in my tone and face. “She is. If she’s boning him after boning you, that’s the very definition of a bitch. I never understood what you saw in her.” She shook her head and stopped looking at the hotel. “You know, other than her being pretty and perky and all of those shallow things you seem way above, by the way.”
I found myself almost smiling when my mind traveled back in time. Way back. Back to when I first started to realize I loved Cora Matthews. “You didn’t know me until high school, so you don’t know I had a speech issue growing up.”
Maggie’s forehead lined. “Like what? You had a lisp or something, because let me just enjoy that mental image right now.”
My face flattened. “I stuttered.”
“Well, shit. I’m an ass.” She took the bottle from me and poured some into my glass.
“It started when I was little. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t stutter. When I started school, it got worse. Kids laughing, teachers telling me to just slow down and speak up, all that kind of stuff that only makes a stuttering problem worse.” I shook my head, thinking about those awkward years. “Jacob stood up for me at school, so kids would usually back off eventually, but he gave it to me just as much at home when we were alone.”
“Big surprise,” Maggie mumbled.
“Yeah, well, he was my brother. He could kick my ass, but he’d kick anyone else’s ass if they made fun of me.”
“Wow. What a hero.”
I lifted my glass at her and took a sip. “Dad refused to see it as a problem, so he wouldn’t get me help. No son of his could have a speech impediment because, by God, he only bore strong, perfect offspring.” My eyes rolled at the idiocy born of machismo. “My stuttering problem wasn’t that bad, as most go, and probably could have been worked out in a year or two with a speech therapist, but since I didn’t have a speech problem . . .”
Maggie and I took a drink together, filling in the blanks.
“Cora hated the way the other kids teased me. She hated the way Jacob and my dad laughed. She wanted to do something to help me, so she went to the library, checked out every book she could on stuttering, and read them all.” When I realized I was smiling, I wiped at my mouth, trying to erase it. “Then she sat down with me, every single night for a solid year, and we worked together. She had me read books out loud to her. She taught me to pause and take a deep breath when I felt myself getting nervous, to recognize which words were triggers for my stuttering. She helped me, Maggie. She was the only one too.” My shoulders lifted. “All it took was a year and my stuttering was pretty much gone. Shit, if it wasn’t for her, I might still be that same stuttering, red-faced kid who couldn’t get a sentence out without choking on it.”
“You? Matt Adams? A stuttering problem?” Maggie’s eyes were narrowed as she looked at me, like she couldn’t believe it.
“True story.”
“Good thing the shaky voice didn’t translate into shaky hands, Dr. Surgeon.”
She nudged me, still shaking her head like she was trying to convince herself of the story I’d just told her. “I guess Cora going into speech therapy wasn’t a big surprise to you then.”
“Not even the slightest.”
“Well, shit.” She blew out a breath. “Now you’ve gone and given me a reason to like the damn woman, and I was really determined to spend the rest of my life loathing her.”
“Cora did a lot more for me than just that, Mags.” I twisted my glass around in my hands. “That’s just the tip of the iceberg.”
“So you’re saying you like her for more than her looks?”
“Far more than her looks. Although her looks are rather wonderful too.” My phone vibrated in my pocket then, and I nearly fell off of my stool trying to get to it. The alcohol made me feel like a two-year-old trying to do papier-maché.
When I saw the number on the display, not even close to the one I’d been hoping to find, I ground my jaw and stuffed the phone back into my pocket.
“Call girl? Mail-order bride?” Maggie tapped her fingers on the counter. “Rebounds R Us?”
“My dad.” With that, I finished what was left in my glass. I needed more.
“What does he want?”
“Oh, probably just to yell, emasculate, and humiliate me. You know, before threatening to write me out of the will.” I waved the bottle in the air before pouring a little more than I’d intended into my glass. If I didn’t slow down, I was going to owe the bartender for the whole damn bottle.
“What? And be forced to live off your paltry surgeon’s wages? That’s just cruel.” Maggie made an appalled face, which got a chuckle out of me.
My world was in ruins, but at least I could still see the humor in some things.
“So, Matthew Adams?” Maggie made a clicking sound with her mouth. “What are you going to do to fix this mess?”
My head tipped. “Not a damn clue.” I chased that down with a nice big swig. “Sweep it under the rug? Let my brother kick my ass? Have the parts of my brain Cora’s in surgically removed? Unless you have any better ideas?”
My head fell into the cradle of my hand again. I felt lost. I was lost. I felt like a ship on that big ocean out there, not sure where I was or what direction I needed to go. I didn’t have a destination because I’d lost my compass. I was starting to wonder if I’d ever had one to being with.
Maggie must have sensed something was wrong. Well, really wrong. She scooted her stool over so it was right up against mine, and she draped her arm and half of herself over me. Her head tucked over my shoulder as she gave me a squeeze. “Listen, I know your brother has his good points.” When I huffed my doubt, she added, “He’s related to you.”