Page 151 of The Havenport Collection

Maggie

“ M om. Where is my purple hat?”

I ran my fingers under my eyes, wiping at the mascara that had migrated south during the course of my day and fluffed my hair.

I was exhausted, which wasn’t new. I had been living in a state of perpetual exhaustion for more than a decade.

But I had to pull myself together because there was no way I could miss Santa’s arrival.

I sighed. Of course her hat was missing. One of the fun parts of motherhood that no one warns you about—being required to find everyone’s fucking stuff all the time.

“It’s in the hall closet,” I yelled over the banister before returning to my bathroom.

All I wanted was to soak in the bath for an hour with a glass of wine and a good book.

One of the nurses at the practice had just loaned me a mafia romance I was excited about.

But it was going to have to wait, because Havenport holiday traditions could not be missed.

And continuing traditions was important for my kids right now.

I had been killing myself trying to maintain a sense of normalcy even though their dad had moved out of our house more than a year ago.

I scrutinized my face in the mirror, eyeing the crinkles at the corners of my eyes warily.

Aging wasn’t a linear process, and it was really unfair.

One day I woke up, and the lines were there, along with a few gray hairs that grew in number every year.

Thankfully I had the world’s greatest hair stylist, who maintained my raven shoulder-length hair to perfection, so at least I didn’t have to stare at my grays all day. My wrinkles? No such luck there.

It was inevitable. Work, kids, marriage, family, paying taxes, making endless lunches, and finding everyone’s fucking hats—it all wore on a person.

And it certainly had worn on me. I studied my reflection, looking through the years of stress to find the woman I used to be there.

The woman who had big dreams and more than enough energy to make them come true.

If I squinted, I could just see the shadow of her in my green eyes.

I didn’t lose myself overnight. The changes were small at first—failing to set boundaries or overcommitting myself to things I didn’t have the time or energy for.

And then they got bigger and bigger, and pretty soon I was avoiding confrontation with my husband while throwing myself into work and the PTA and pretending everything was perfectly fine.

But they weren’t fine. I blamed myself for every single thing that went wrong.

I steered clear of difficult conversations and neglected to practice any self-care.

The picture-perfect life I had built for myself had slowly crumbled around me.

And it wasn’t until now, while I examined the wreckage, that I could see it all clearly.

I grabbed a makeup remover wipe and took everything off. I needed to start again. Josh would be at the tree lighting, and I wanted to look good. I didn’t usually wear a lot of makeup, but I refused to leave the house bare faced. Today, I could use the protection, the armor.

I had gotten used to our separation, and we had done it well.

But since our kiss at my sister’s wedding a few weeks ago, everything had changed.

I was feeling things and thinking things and opening up in therapy.

Confusion had clouded my brain since that night, so I had done what I did best. I’d avoided confronting anything, and I had made myself scarce.

My work schedule certainly helped me avoid my husband. Since Dr. Peters had announced her early retirement, I had been pulling double duty at our clinic. I barely had enough time to eat or sleep, let alone have a heart-to-heart with Josh.

When I wasn’t seeing patients, I was busy interviewing new doctors, nurses, and physician assistants for our practice. Things had been growing steadily for years, and our current staff was overworked. It was my biggest priority for the New Year—find new talent to help lighten the load.

Now I needed my stupid brain to stop obsessing about Josh.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the way it felt to have his arms around me, the way his lips brushed mine, the confessions he’d made while we danced.

The wedding was magical, for so many reasons—seeing my little sister marry the love of her life, celebrating with the people I loved, and surprisingly, spending the evening with my estranged husband.

He was serious about patching things up. He had been for months. We had been in counseling for a while now, and he had been working hard to be open and vulnerable. If anything, I was the problem. I was the holdout, the one who was closed off and couldn’t just let it all out.

My stomach knotted at that realization. The effort he was making with me and the kids, and the way he’d walked away from his career, his dreams, to prioritize our family—it meant so much to me.

But was it enough to save us? I wanted it to be, but there was so much left unsaid.

So many questions unanswered. We had been doing well at our weekly counseling appointments, but we had a long way to go.

And how much longer could we continue to do this to our kids?

How much longer could we confuse and frustrate them the way we were?

Because while forgiveness was admirable—was something I yearned to feel for Josh—I wasn’t there yet.

I wanted him back. Desperately. But I wanted Maggie back more. And I wasn’t sure I could have both of those things at once.

I took another deep breath and reapplied my makeup, trying hard to keep my hands steady.

Those decisions didn’t have to be made today. I just needed to put on a happy face and spread some Christmas cheer.

Santa had arrived in Havenport on a Coast Guard patrol boat the day after Thanksgiving every year since before I was born.

The entire town, and most of the surrounding towns, gathered along the harbor annually to watch the boat pull in and dock.

Santa and Mrs. Claus stood on the bow wearing custom life jackets and waved at the assembled children and families.

They then led a Christmas parade through downtown, culminating at the lighting of the Christmas tree on the green. I had taken part in this celebration almost every year I had been alive, and it never failed to thrill me.

I loved Christmas. But it wasn’t something I advertised, of course.

I had a serious reputation to maintain, but it was my favorite time of year.

And Havenport didn’t disappoint. Events, parades, carols, and decorations were everywhere this time of year.

There were always endless streams of parties, charity events, and good cheer to warm up even the coldest grinch.

Having kids made it even more fun. And I took pride in being the kind of mom who baked cookies, made homemade gifts, and sang Christmas carols.

But Ava was twelve and Jack was nine, and they were getting a little tired of my Christmas enthusiasm.

Oh well. I would drag them kicking and screaming into Christmas bliss with me if it killed me. This year more than ever, I needed it.

Josh met us at the dock, having saved a spot along the railing where both kids squeezed in to get a good view. He did that a lot, now that I thought about it…small things to show he was thinking of us. He knew everyone’s favorite kind of cereal, and at dinner, he would play our favorite songs.

It was one of things that made me fall in love with him. He paid attention. Or at least he used to.

We stood behind the kids, our shoulders touching in the thick crowd.

He looked stupidly handsome in his winter coat and a wool beanie.

It was one of his superpowers, looking hot even when dressed in a goofy outfit.

He looked delectable in his scrubs and oddly sexy even in the Sven reindeer antlers he wore on one Halloween when Ava dressed up as Elsa.

His golden-brown skin was set beautifully against his dark eyes and thick lashes.

Lashes I had been jealous of for more than fifteen years.

He leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek, sending a spark of attraction shooting through me to settle in my core.

Damn Josh and his sexy face. It was easy to shut down that side of myself when he was absent, working constantly or asleep.

It was easy to forget the chemistry we had once shared when we were fighting or icily ignoring one another in our own home.

But now that he was around and present and trying? I had to grit my teeth some days just to keep my brain from remembering what he was hiding under that winter coat.

“How are you?” he asked softly.

“Good.”

“You look tired.”

“I was on call last night and got off this morning.”

He nodded, knowing all too well the demands of medical practice. He cocked his head and looked deeply into my eyes, holding my attention like he wanted to say something.

“Hey, guys,” my sister called, the interruption a welcomed one.

We were greeted by Cece and her new husband, Liam. She was beaming under the red knit hat that could not contain her wild curls. Her face was flushed and her smile was bright. I loved seeing her like this. So happy and so in love.

Josh handed Cece his phone. “Would you mind taking a photo of us?” he asked.

I looked at him, a bit surprised. I was usually the family photographer, taking pains to document all family moments. It was why my phone was filled with photos of Josh with my kids and none of me with them.

He never thought to stop and take photos—it was very un-Josh.

He had places to go and things to accomplish, so he couldn’t be bothered.

It was one of the little things I resented.

I had always worried that if something happened to me, my kids would have no photos to remember me by.

So it was pleasantly surprising that he thought to stop and take one.

He grabbed the kids, and the four of us huddled together with the harbor in the background.

“Say reindeer,” he said.

I’m sure my smile was crooked and one of my eyes was closed, but I was overcome with a warm, fuzzy feeling inside. He smiled at the photo and thanked Cece, who winked at me.

For the past year, she and Liam had lived exclusively in a love bubble, and it was nauseating most days.

But I adored my sister, and I was truly thrilled for her.

Liam was a good man and made her happy. And most importantly, he understood that she was way too good for him.

He knew he would have to work his ass off forever to make her happy.

He wasn’t the type to get lazy, and I respected that about him.

But it was emotionally taxing to be confronted daily with their undying love when my own life was falling apart. I watched them make the promise of forever while my own was fading away.

I pulled myself together. Holiday cheer, Maggie. Stay focused.

I greeted my mother with a hug and then noticed Chief Wilson nearby in his uniform.

I had known the Havenport police chief my entire life, but I didn’t like how he always seemed to be where my mother was these days.

My mom had been through a lot, weathering the death of my father and then raising Cece and me on her own.

She was tough but still vulnerable. And I didn’t like him sniffing around her.

Cece caught me surveying him and raised a brow. She was constantly on my case about being less judgmental. Easy for her to say—she lived in the warm embrace of the love bubble. The rest of us had to deal with cold, hard reality every day.