She was trying to make me smile or laugh or lighten up, but I felt buried under the avalanche of realizations still tumbling down on me. “But Jacob . . . we’ve been together for years. We were supposed to get married. I’m still wearing the engagement ring he gave me . . . attached to the wedding ring his brother put on my finger.” My head shook as I stared at the rings on my finger. “How messed up is that?”
I guessed Maggie would have loved to answer that question for me. She would have accompanied it with a detailed outline and PowerPoint presentation with proven research as to how perfectly and thoroughly messed up I was. For whatever reason, she was staying quiet though.
“Why do you love Jacob?” she finally asked, her face giving nothing away.
My forehead creased. “Because I do.”
“Yeah”—she fired me a mock smile—“gonna need to give me more than that, sunshine. Let’s try something else. What has he done for you that’s made you think, Damn, that’s why I love that man. The big stuff. What really stands out? He’s done something to earn your love, right?” From the note of doubt in her voice, I guessed she wasn’t totally convinced.
But I was. Jacob had done things to earn my love. I wouldn’t have been with him if he hadn’t, especially with the way the past few years had tested every level of our foundation.
“My birthday always fell the week before school started, and Jacob, Matt, and their dad always took that week to vacation in Cabo. I never got to go because it was some guys’ trip where they fished and smoked cigars and did whatever else guys do.” Maggie and I wrinkled our noses at the same time, imagining it. “But every year, flowers always arrived at the front door, every hour on the hour, nine o’clock in the morning to nine at night. I think it was his way of showing me he wished he could be there when he couldn’t be. His way of making me feel special.” I thought about my last birthday, how the flowers had shown up at work for me instead since I’d been working a long shift.
Across from me, Maggie was quiet. Too quiet. “Anything else?”
I shifted. “There was the time I had my appendix out and had to miss a ton of school. Jacob collected my homework from each of my classes everyday, completed it for me, and turned it all in. I didn’t know about it until I returned and got back all of these assignments I hadn’t completed. He never said anything—he wasn’t looking for any credit. He just did it for me.”
Still quiet, Maggie cleared her throat. “Dare I ask if there’s anything else?”
My mind flitted to a certain night years ago, the year we’d all been sophomores and gone to the first party of the year at one of Jacob’s lacrosse friends’ houses. It was a night I didn’t think about often. It was also the same night I knew I could, or that maybe I already did, love Jacob Adams.
“Nothing?” Maggie prompted.
There were other things I could have mentioned, but they paled in comparison to what Jacob had done for me that night. Everything in my life could have changed during a handful of moments if it hadn’t been for him. Stepping in when he had. Carrying me away from that place how he had.
My whole life could have taken an abrupt detour from that one moment, but it didn’t.
“There was a party one night. Our sophomore year.” I tried to recount the night without reliving it. I’d never shared the story with anyone, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to right now, but she’d asked me why I loved Jacob. This was the catalyst for why.
“Jeremy Penchant’s party. First weekend after school started.” There wasn’t a question in her voice; it was like she’d read my mind.
“That’s right. It was my first time drinking, and it didn’t exactly agree with me.”
“I remember. The tables still remember the scrape of your heels, I’m sure.” Maggie pursed her lips.
“You were there?”
She nodded once. “I was there.”
“I went with Matt and Jacob, but they were hanging over my shoulder like overprotective big brothers, so I managed to sneak away from them so I could actually mingle with other people.”
“And dance on tables,” Maggie added.
“Like I said, heavy-handed screwdrivers and sixteen-year-old drinking novice Cora Matthews did not get along well.”
“Oh, it looked like the two of you got along really, really well.” Maggie eyed the sofa table like she was reliving the scene.
“A while later, post table dancing, I found myself in a room alone. It was dark, there was a bed, and I was so tired. I felt like I just needed a nap and I’d feel better.” I had to stop there, waiting for my courage to catch up to my words. “One minute I’m falling asleep, and the next I wake up to the sound of someone in the room with me. Heavy breathing, the sound of clothes being taken off. The feel of someone trying to take off my clothes.” My back quaked, but I kept going.
That night had been almost a decade ago, but I still remembered everything about it. From the smell of the musky cologne he’d been wearing, to the way his hands had been clammy and rushed.
“It didn’t get far before Jacob found me. He hit the guy once, knocked him out, then carried me out of there. He took me home, put me into bed, and essentially saved me from something that could have changed me forever.” I sat up straighter in my chair, making myself look Maggie in the eye. I was surprised to find her eyes glassy. I hadn’t thought Maggie Stevenson capable of tears. “The next morning when I woke up and remembered what had happened, that’s when I realized I loved him. He’d saved me. Protected me. Taken care of me. He’d shown me what love was, instead of just trying to convince me of it.”
Maggie sniffed as she shifted on the bed. “And did your hero ask you anything about it the next day?”
“No, not directly. He asked if I was okay. If I needed anything. But when I didn’t bring it up, I think he realized I didn’t want to talk about it. I wanted to forget it.”
Maggie’s hand lifted. “So let me just stop you there.” Her eyes narrowed like she was trying to decide what to say next. “Every reason you just listed, every reason you gave me that you have for loving Jacob, is misplaced.” She leaned forward, clasping her hands. “It wasn’t Jacob. The birthday flowers, the homework, saving you that night—it wasn’t him. Every reason you think you love Jacob is really because of Matt.”
Whatever she saw on my face made her stop talking. I guessed it was her way of giving me a chance to catch up to what she’d just said.
“What are you talking about? That was Jacob.”
She barked out a laugh. “Please. Does Jacob really seem like the flower type of guy? And doing a couple weeks’ worth of someone else’s homework? He couldn’t even get his finished on time.”
My mind felt like it was being invaded by an army of conquerors. Everything
I thought I’d known, everything I’d believed, suddenly seemed to be false.
“That night? For sure?” The words came out as a whisper as I tried to remember the face that had shoved through that bedroom door. Everything was so hazy thanks to the alcohol. “How do you know?”
Maggie inhaled. “Because Matt told me.”