Page 60 of Falling Backwards (The Edge of Us #1)

AFTER TEN-AND-SOME MONTHS

MAGGIE

Life is so…

…interesting.

Surprising. Crazy.

Things happen that don’t make any sense. Other things happen that seem not to make any sense and then, after a while, have you realizing they make all the sense in the world.

And you think you have some things figured out, think you understand how stuff works, think you know exactly who you are and what you want—and don’t want—until something comes along…a person, a situation, a mere moment…and gives you enough pause for change to begin.

I love my life.

The acknowledgment is a happy echo through my entire being. Just like it has been for the last year.

A pleasant breeze drifts through the patio area and nudges my hair around; it tickles my bare arms and my face. I brush it away, then smooth my hands down the waist and skirt of my fluttery sundress, feeling the curvy softness of the body underneath—and, quite vividly, recalling Luke relishing it earlier on our couch before I put the dress on.

‘Fuck, you’re exquisite, Maggie,’ murmurs his husky memory-voice through my mind. I feel all over again how his strong hands guided me down on him with steady ease, how he looked at me, how his shoulders flexed beneath my hands, how delectably he moaned and kissed the scar on my neck when I took over the rhythm of our lovemaking, how incredible it was to once again claim sharp satisfaction together in such an intimate way.

I told him how exquisite he is.

He clamped us into a hug while we kissed each other’s warmed skin.

And I was freshly reminded, for the thousandth time in the last year, that my body really is good enough just the way it is. Although it’s always nice to think of the exercise we’ve managed to keep up, I pretty much look the same as I did when we started fake-dating, and I don’t feel anything but good about it. Even earlier on the couch, being naked and a little sweaty as I straddled Luke without shadows or a blanket, I felt good and powerful and calm and lovely. Wished that self-conscious Maggie had been nicer to herself sooner.

Better late than never, though.

I look to the glass doors nearby just as Luke reaches to open one of them from the other side. He’s back from his turn at hand-washing. The sight of him warms my heart, and we smile at each other, and he comes to sit across from me again.

“Ahhhh,”

he says.

“What a lovely late November day.”

At his breezy sarcasm, I snort into laughter, and so does he.

Then I groan.

“Why is it seventy-five degrees at this time of year?”

“Because we don’t live somewhere that has four proper seasons.”

I nod my irked agreement, which isn’t all that irked, really. How could it be? How could any part of me be anything less than joyous today?

Like he can read my mind, Luke regards me with the same easy glow that isn’t unique to this day despite how special this day is.

“Happy anniversary,”

he says, not for the first time since we awoke this morning.

I’m not tired of hearing it.

I know that my own glow is emanating from me as I tell him again, too.

“Happy anniversary.”

After a second, I add.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna go somewhere else for lunch? I know it can feel weird to dine where you work. We’ve only ordered drinks, so it’s not too late to—”

“No, I don’t wanna go somewhere else,”

he chuckles.

“I wanna sit out here on the patio my girl has always loved so I can admire her in this weirdly springlike weather while we eat a fancy lunch we know will be delicious.”

My smile grows and his does, too, with his good mood plus something knowing. He has never forgotten that Lucent’s patio is special to me because of how special it is to my parents.

The breeze ruffles his mess of raven hair as he leans towards me on the table.

“Besides,”

he goes on.

“I know you miss being able to even just look at this patio. There’s extra no way I wanna rob you of getting to spend real time on it.”

I sigh.

Sometimes I don’t know how I manage to stay upright beneath the weight of how much I love him.

“Thank you,”

I murmur.

“I do miss getting to see it anytime I want.”

Then I give him a sly look.

“I also miss getting to see you around during my shifts. Doing accounting for a nonprofit is rewarding work, but damn it, the lack of Luke Bramhill in that building is a downside.”

He winks at me.

“Yeah, I’ll bet you do miss finding things to nitpick at me for.”

I giggle, then lean towards him, too, my elbows resting on the edge of the table.

“No. You’re such an awesome assistant manager that even I started having a hard time being nitpicky before I left.”

Luke’s grin is as bright as it was way back when he first told me he got the job. I adore it. I adore that he has turned out to both be really good at that work and like it, though he’s also always happy to cover a bartending shift if he needs to.

Then again, we knew he could do it. We knew he’d be better than Ronald ever was. We knew he’d bring something refreshing to the table while taking care of business the way business deserves to be taken care of.

He says.

“I miss getting to see you during my shifts too.”

I absorb how wonderful and familiar he is. The beautiful haven that I’ll never tire of calling mine, that isn’t perfect and yet is perfect for me.

What a gift it is that he feels the same way about me.

As I have plenty of times in the last six months, I remark.

“I’m so glad we live together.”

“So am I, Green Eyes.”

I know he means it, but I still ask teasingly.

“Yeah? Not sick of me still telling you how to load the dishwasher?”

He teases back.

“I’m about as sick of it as you are of me still stealing the blanket during the night.”

That cracks us up. Sure, sometimes we do still annoy each other in those ways and in others, but they’re mainly funny to us now because we’ve grown through them. Grown through so much else.

Gosh…. This is happiness.

The not-cold November weather makes no sense. We thought we didn’t make sense a little over a year ago when we decided to become a fake couple with our old resentments looming over us, only to learn in no time at all that, actually, Maggie and Luke being together makes an insane amount of sense.

Yeah, we used to believe we had each other, and where we stood with each other, figured out. We believed we’d never give each other a second chance because of what happened with the first one. Then life threw us just enough of a curveball to shake us off our guards, and things started changing. They got better. Got fixed. Got us solidly on the path to the happy ending we’d realized we truly did want—and deserve.

I can’t wait for us to keep walking this path.

Our server comes out with our celebratory drinks. We order our food, then lift our glasses into a clink.

“To us,”

I say cheerfully.

“To us, love,”

Luke agrees in kind. Then, before we take a sip.

“Hey, how pissed would you be if I startled you into spilling your drink?”

I gasp in a deep and serious, ‘You better not,’ way, but once again, I end up laughing with him.

—

What’s better than an anniversary involving great sex and an awesome lunch? One that also involves getting to go to the Water Rocks.

Well, really, we’ve already gone to our old favorite place at the lake a handful of times in the last year. A couple of them were too chilly and too hot for us to really enjoy the outing, but today is one of those days that the weather will be just right. We’re glad; it feels particularly wonderful to be celebrating a milestone by spending time there.

As we make our way to the spot, we chat about this and that. Luke’s mom has been seeing a nice man for a few months now and it’s going well, according to her call to Luke last night. Our friends are doing fine: nothing much has changed with Paxton, Emma has gotten her own job promotion—I’m so happy for her because it’s the one she wanted last year and was rather cheated out of—and Joy is having to look for new work because the boutique is closing soon, but she’s in good spirits as usual. And I thank Luke again for encouraging me towards the job I left Lucent for.

It’s kind of amazing how much I’ve loved being in accounting again simply because the company I work for is in the business of helping people. When I found the job listing while dropping off a donation to our local children and youth services office, I was instantly drawn to it, but I was also nervous to apply since I’d been unfulfilled with accounting in the past. But Luke championed me in a heartbeat, and he, my friends, and my parents became adamant that I should go for it. And I’m glad I did. As great as being a hostess at Lucent was, my new job makes me happy on a different level.

“You’re welcome,”

he says to my thanks, sending me a smile as he reaches for my hand.

“You rock.”

“You rock, babe.”

And the Water Rocks rock.

We sit on a boulder that’s close enough to the tree line to be shaded. The blue sky is fluffy here and there with white and silvery clouds. The breeze is even more pleasant than it was at Lucent; we hum and comment about it, watching how it moves the surface of the lake across the way.

After a few minutes, I reach into my purse and extract a package.

“Want some after-dessert dessert?”

I offer Luke.

His eyes light up at the sight of the gummy worms even though we shared some bananas Foster cheesecake at lunch.

“Yes, please!”

While we lazily snack on them, we muse about whether a fish would try to eat a gummy worm if it was in the water. We don’t test it out, obviously—don’t want to potentially hurt an animal, don’t want to throw away a gummy worm—but it’s entertaining to think about.

And thinking about it reminds me of a time shortly after I moved in with Luke. He was at work, so I took a relaxing bath while eating gummy worms, and then the package fell off the side of the tub and into the bubbly water. I remind him of it, too, and we laugh.

“I am still sad about that!”

he says.

“And it wasn’t even my candy! I wasn’t even there!”

“I know! It was a little bit of a tragedy!”

He slings an arm around my shoulders, then lifts his dangling hand to feed me the gummy worm he’s holding.

“We’ve still never recreated it together, and we need to.”

I nod and chew the bite I’ve taken.

“Yeah, without the sad part.”

“Mmhmm. Just us, the bath, and the eating of candy.”

He sighs and withdraws his arm, then eats the rest of the gummy worm in his fingers.

“Now, that’s romance.”

And that is fuel for more laughter.

Once we put the candy away and quench our thirst with the water bottle I also brought, we decide to stretch our legs. We wander along in the shade, stepping on as many rocks as we can on this nature-made path between the trees and the water, listening to a birdsong, getting excited about a lizard we see.

“This is so wonderful,”

I say as we meet on a rock that’s wide and flat enough for us to comfortably stand facing each other. I set my purse down, then smile up at him.

“I love you.”

He’d been looking at me with already-bright eyes, but they brighten even more now—and soften.

With a glance down, he takes my hands in his. Then his gaze is back on mine.

“I love you back,” he says.

So beautiful.

He takes a small step closer to me, draws a breath that I can hear a bit of a shake in…

…just like…

…I can feel in his hands?

Something about that softens me. Further softens these moments.

“Magnolia,”

he murmurs, “I….”

In his pause, we look at each other with the breeze nudging our hair, the skirt of my dress, the barely loose fabric of his shirt.

And the longer the pause lasts, the more tension begins to grow.

The more sweetness begins to grow.

Yes, a sweet tension that is definitely trembling in his hands now.

In my ribcage, too, and in both of our inhalations because whatever has shifted in him is reaching into me—it’s pouring out of his gaze and weighing on the air, and I can’t help taking in every bit of it.

He has something important to say. It’s clear to me.

And even though I try not to hope for the certain important thing he could say on our anniversary with that look on his face, I….

He squeezes my hands. As I squeeze back, I note the faint color in his cheeks; his heartbeat must be fast.

My cheeks are warming. My heartbeat is becoming fast.

Calm down, girl, I try to tell myself. It may not be that at all.

At last, he goes on talking. The tremble is beneath his words too.

“One night on the phone while we were pretending to date, you told me I’d know when I found the right person for me. And I…”

he shakes his head.

“…I can’t even tell you how early on I knew it was you. How long before you said that. You weren’t really mine, and at the same time, you were. I wasn’t yours, and yet I was. Then we stopped pretending, and it came true. We were so right. We were right together and we made things right together and I was proved right that you are my person. And I haven’t stopped being right about that.”

I’m nodding at him, the corners of my eyes prickling. I remember that phone call. I remember saying that to him and then silently telling myself I wasn’t talking about me—it wasn’t me, it couldn’t be me. And I remember not fully believing that.

His thumbs going back and forth over the backs of my hands.

His hard swallow.

His gently earnest blue eyes, which have a glisten to them.

“I don’t just love you, Maggie,”

he tells me.

“I like you. I want and need you. I respect you. I treasure you. I joyfully grow as a person…I love myself…because of you.”

God, what those significant words do to me—especially the last ones. I feel them all from him and for myself towards him; I have for so long.

Alongside the welcome ache they bring, hopeful nervousness is thundering through me now.

Is this…is this what I think it is? Is this what it feels like it is? Or do I have it wrong?

My voice is reduced to a whisper.

“All of that is exactly how I feel about you. About us.”

Luke smiles and my throat constricts from it and what I’ve said. Even if I am misreading things, the way I feel about him remains the same; whether this is the significant moment I hadn’t dared to dream of for today or simply a heartfelt one, he is my home.

I tug on his hands, urging him to mirror me in taking another step in. He does and we meet in a firm kiss—two firm kisses, then a softer one from him to the corner of my lips, from me to his cheek.

He frees his hands of mine. I get ready to wrap him in a hug—but he takes hold of one of my hips and sinks down into kneeling.

My hopeful nervousness bursts into ecstatic amazement that has real tears coming on fast.

It feels like my heart stops and breaks into a wild sprint at the same time.

I take a soft, deep breath and splay my own trembling hand over my L necklace—splay my right hand over it because Luke didn’t leave my left one lonely for long.

He holds it while his other pulls a ring straight out of his pants pocket, a small bit of gorgeousness I had absolutely no idea he’d been carrying around. The elegantly arranged stones on it sparkle even in this shaded area as he holds it between us.

Its splendor doesn’t come anywhere close to that of the honest, expressive love in his eyes.

“Marry me, then?”

he asks.

“Take our rightness for each other one step further?”

I want to scream, ‘Yes!’ for all of the Water Rocks and trees and lake and sky to hear. I even take a big breath to do it.

Then it huffs out of me just for him, just for me.

“Yes, Luke.”

It shouldn’t be possible for that splendor of his expression to heighten, but as an eye-crinkling grin comes to life on his face, it does.

And as I soak it up, that grin spreading to me, I love him impossibly more.

A throaty, exultant laugh fires out of him and out of me, too, and he slips the ring onto my finger and whooshes to stand upright. We kiss, kiss, draw each other into a hug, stop hugging so I can take his face in my hands and he can hold my wrists and we can kiss again. Then he pulls my left hand off his cheek and we admire my ring—except my vision is quickly becoming too blurred with tears for that.

It’s perfect, though, I know. It fits me in every way.

Just like Luke.

After we’ve wiped away both my teardrops and the ones that have escaped him, I get a long look at this glittering token of our promise to each other; it’s stunning on my finger, and I already can’t wait to see its companion on him. I tell him so and he agrees with a lighter laugh.

“My God,”

I say next with a sniffle.

“I’m so happy we’re here.”

“So am I.”

He sighs, then chuckles.

“Engaged at the Water Rocks.”

I meet his eyes again.

“This was the exact right place.”

“I knew it was. Had to bring us full-circle.”

My nod is brief because he’s taking my chin in the notch of two fingers, tipping it up as he inches in and down.

His voice dips lower.

“Had to be out here with you when I told you…”

he thumbs at my bottom lip.

“…that I was the first person to kiss you and I’m gonna be the last.”

The sweetest warmth whispers down my spine.

“Yeah,”

I say.

“you were and you are.”

Then something from a year ago springs to my mind.

“Hey…. Last year, we were talking about that day—and our first kiss—and you said you’ll never forget how I made you feel.”

After his nod, I ask suddenly delicately.

“How did I…?”

The way he looks at me tells me he’s both back there and anchored here.

“Like I’d never be the same,”

he says.

“and I couldn’t be happier about it.”

That strikes so true with me that my tearfulness tries to return.

He murmurs.

“Another thing I was right about.”

I kiss his thumb by my lip and murmur back.

“I’m so happy you changed me too.”

His eyes freshly glisten as well, but we still smile before we kiss again. This time, we cling to each other and sink in, not letting even our excitement rush us.

The world narrows to just this adoration, this belonging, this joy that is somehow peacefully quiet and the most extravagant feeling ever.

And I marvel at all of that, as well as how right he was about us coming full-circle—here and in general.

This place was ours a long time ago, and it’s ours again now.

We spent years thinking we were done and over, unsalvageable, and it turned out we just needed to deal with the emotional chasm that was between him and me, between who we were in high school and who we were as adults. Falling backwards into our past sounded scary, but it’s what saved us. We had to do it to learn to trust each other again. To learn how to do things differently, better, the right way. To learn how to use what we started at sixteen to strengthen what we had at twenty-four. To learn how to really move forwards.

I’m so grateful to us.

And, yes, so happy.

—

The rest of our day has felt delightfully slow even though we’ve found things to fill it with.

We’ve gone to the park and wandered around the mall. We’ve planned to share our news with his mom and my parents later this week on Thanksgiving, and we’re waiting to hear back from our friends about when a good night to go to dinner is so we can tell them then, although Paxton actually already knew about Luke planning to propose. We’ve spent more time at home and started thinking about wedding stuff, including that we think it’s best to get married in maybe another year or so.

By the time we’re driving to dinner, I’m tired and wired at once. I know he is too.

“I sure missed Mellow Burger during the Kyle thing,”

I say. Then I giggle.

“And I’ve missed it since the last time we went.”

Luke laughs.

“I know a couple weeks is so long!”

“It is.”

“Shit, I feel the same way since you got me hooked on the spicy fries.”

I send him a mischievous smile he sees in an amused glance.

“But yeah,”

he says.

“I’m glad it’s not a place to avoid anymore. And I’m glad he was nothing but professional the couple of times we saw him before he seemed to stop working there.”

I nod.

“Very glad. He meant it when he said he was over me.”

“Yep.”

I look out the windshield at the Christmas lights people and businesses have already started putting up, but I still vaguely notice Luke not using his turn signals when he should. I shake my head a little. I’ve continued trying to convince him to do it, and he has continued insisting it’s not a big deal that he doesn’t. To his credit, he’s never been in a wreck with or without me in the car—he really is a fine driver besides this—but still.

I don’t bring it up tonight.

Not that I’m giving up, of course. I’m just not interested in it on our extra-special occasion.

For a minute, we sing along with the Fall Out Boy song quietly playing. Then I remember the new featured burger at Mellow Burger, and I wonder if Luke and I should share it. It has a glazed donut for a bun, which sounds weird and tasty and like something one person maybe shouldn’t eat by th—

Without warning, a car veers right in front of us from the lane beside ours, making me gasp sharply and Luke rush to hit the brake. I grab my door and the center compartment as we slow just enough not to collide with them as they turn into a parking lot.

“Are you kidding me, fucker?”

Luke demands loudly. He holds a hand out in front of him, somehow resisting flipping the driver off.

“What, they don’t put blinkers on BMWs?”

Heavy adrenaline pounds through me. I work on breathing through it, assuring myself that we’re safe and that I shouldn’t flip the person off either.

And then, through it all, I’m hit with astonishment.

I whip my head to look at Luke…

…who clearly has, as I have, registered what he just said.

My mouth was already open, and it falls open even more now.

He sees it between glances since we’re coming to a red light and the danger has passed.

Holding his index finger up at me, he says.

“Okay, wait a second.”

“What was that?”

I finally exclaim.

“Did you just basically admit—?”

“No! No!”

He shakes his head.

“I said—I—what I said—what I meant was—”

I jab a finger at him.

“Oh my God, Luke! You understand the importance of a blinker!”

“No, listen! That is not what I….”

He doesn’t keep talking. He just looks at me like a deer in headlights.

And I explode into laughter.

Luke puts his face in his hands, and as if he hadn’t already betrayed himself with his complaint to that driver, I can read defeat on him here.

“You agree with me!”

I say.

“For all your stubbornness about not using your blinkers, when it comes down to it, you freaking agree with me that people should use them!”

Through my wholehearted amusement, I hear him groan.

“Aw, God, what have I done?”

I laugh through the remaining couple of minutes to Mellow Burger, heartily, in giggles, in shoulder-shaking snorts I try to stifle. All the while, he grips the steering wheel with both hands and chews on his bottom lip, the picture of, ‘I just lost this argument.’

This. Freaking. Guy.

Once we’re parked and out of the car, he shuffles around to meet me at the front of it. He tries not to smile, but he fails, then grins, then finally starts laughing along with me.

“This is ass,” he says.

I laugh harder, and he comes close enough to put his hands on my aching cheeks.

I get out.

“How long have you known I was right?”

Chuckles quake through him as he kisses my forehead, and then he groans.

“You’re not right. Blinkers don’t matter. I was just mad that that car cut right in front of us.”

I tilt a look up at the good-natured exasperation on his face. Overflowing with love, I calm down enough to agree teasingly.

“Yes, and that’s why you said, ‘Who taught you it’s okay to cut off other cars like that?’ and not, ‘What, they don’t put blinkers on BMWs?’”

Luke’s laughter builds and takes mine with it; he brings me into a hug that lets me feel all of it moving through him, warm and wonderful.

As I hug him back, I stamp kisses to his shoulder and neck. He does the same to me, then to the side of my head, then around to my lips.

His sigh is heavy and light at once, somehow. But when he looks at me again, his eyes are all light.

“Fine, I’ll use my fucking blinkers,”

he laughs anew.

I grin into cracking up again too. Finding his hands, I lace our fingers together.

“Oh, this is the best day.”

He lifts our hands and kisses the backs of mine, then thumbs at my ring with happiness shining in his eyes.

“Yeah, it is,”

he says.

“Until all our other best days come along, that is.”

Now he kisses my ring.

“Damn it, I love you, Magnolia.”

My heart is full—until he finds new ways to make it fuller yet, as he always does.

“I love you, Luke.”

We shift into him only holding my left hand, and we walk to the restaurant, ready for dinner.

And, really, ready for the rest of our life together.

Our beautiful, exasperating, silly, surprising, awesome life.

Maggie and Luke.

I look at him, and he looks at me, and we share another utterly radiant grin.

Maggie and Luke—then, now, and forever.

That is beautiful, indeed.