Page 153 of The Havenport Collection

Maggie

S ince Cece had moved back to Havenport, I’d unexpectedly found myself with a rowdy group of girlfriends.

Most of these women were people I had known since childhood, but we’d recently cemented our bond through weekly breakfast dates on Monday mornings.

I loved my girls, and although I tended to be the most buttoned-up of the group, they forced me to let my hair down a bit, which I desperately needed.

Nora was the ringleader, confident and bold.

And then there was Astrid, the badass lawyer; Emily the hilarious hot-mess mom; Violet the free spirit; and my sister, Cece.

Nora called us the coven, and these women were my closest confidants and trusted advisors.

So, having a rare day off tomorrow, I was spending the evening in their company at the Tipsy Whale—dancing, drinking Moscow mules, and letting off some steam.

It was holiday karaoke night, and although I was not a singer, I did enjoy the musical stylings of my friends and neighbors, especially the “Frosty the Snowman” singalong my hair stylist Dante led us through.

Until I saw my estranged husband walk through the door.

Motherfucker . At least I looked good in a pair or skinny jeans, boots, and a slouchy green sweater that draped off one shoulder that Nora had talked me into buying at her store.

But the last thing I wanted to do tonight was muddle through my confused feelings for Josh.

Because confusion was the name of the game these days. Three drinks in, I wanted to jump in his arms and lay a sloppy kiss on his full lips. But I knew I couldn’t do that. First, because I wasn’t the PDA type, and second, because of…well, everything that had happened and was happening between us.

Six months ago, I would have ignored him, but since we’d started counseling and he had quit his job, things had been different. Better and confusing—but different. I found myself letting go of old hurts and seeing him with fresh eyes, which only made things that much more complicated.

“Fuck,” I muttered into my glass.

Nora, ever the supportive friend, glanced over her shoulder and scowled. “Assholes. Don’t they know this is my bar?” She wasn’t scowling at Josh, but rather at his best friend, Lucas Kim, who was walking over to our table with a smile on his face.

“Ladies,” he said in his go-to jovial way, “you all look well.” Nora’s brother Christian stood up and gave him a bro hug, and Dante, Christian’s husband, shook his hand.

“Why are you here?” Nora asked, shooting him a look that would kill a lesser man.

Lucas didn’t even flinch at the bite in her tone. He had nerves of steel, or at least some CIA-level anti-interrogation training. “Nora Rossi, you look ravishing as usual,” he said, giving her a lascivious wink.

Her reaction could have frozen lava.

My husband stood awkwardly on the periphery of this scene, saying hello to Cece and Emily and taking in the holiday decor.

As usual, Christian and Dante had outdone themselves.

The entire bar was covered in decorations I could only describe as nautical chic.

Blue and white lights and ribbons, a light-up anchor on the wall, and a large Christmas tree decorated with tiny buoys, lobster traps, and sailboats.

It was fun and festive, but Josh’s presence instantly killed all the holiday cheer I’d mustered tonight.

As much as I was enjoying the fireworks display going on between Nora and Lucas, I couldn’t take my eyes off Josh.

Why did he have to be so goddamn handsome?

And he only got better looking every year.

When I fell in love with him at nineteen, he was cute and dorky.

Now he was a bona fide hottie who could stop traffic with his dimples.

Wasn’t that the worst part about men? He only got better looking, while I was slowly coming to terms with the notion that my best years were not just behind me, but far in the rearview mirror.

From where I was sitting in the booth, I watched the men move to the bar and strike up a conversation with Fran the bartender.

Josh was a beer nerd who loved trying new brews and talking shop with my brother-in-law, Liam, who owned a successful local brewery.

I think it was his inner scientist, but he really geeked out over hops and yeast and fermentation techniques.

I sat and stewed, folding and refolding my cocktail napkin. Which, unsurprisingly, featured the titular Tipsy Whale wearing a Santa hat.

When I peeked at Josh again, he was chatting with Lucas and sipping his beer contentedly.

It was still a shock to see him out with friends in Havenport.

For years, he had made no time for friendships and focused solely on work.

The demands of being an ER doctor overwhelmed him all the time.

When he wasn’t working or on call, he was asleep or catching up on his charting.

We didn’t do date nights or go out with friends. He occasionally played basketball on Sunday mornings, which was where he’d met Lucas, but even that had faded in recent years.

Had he really changed? He certainly seemed different tonight.

In June, he’d come over to the house and told me about the job he had turned down in New York and about how his current trauma fellowship at Massachusetts General Hospital was ending the following month.

He went on to say he planned to take some time off to work on himself and our marriage, swearing he would devote everything he had to it.

At the time, I’d inwardly rolled my eyes. This was classic Josh, wanting to be the best at everything and overcommitting himself. But things had been different from that moment on.

He was around all the time—with the kids, doing projects around the house he no longer lived in, spending time with his father, hanging out with friends, and exercising constantly.

After Ava was born, we had taken up running.

We bought one of those tricked-out jogging strollers and went on family runs around town.

It was fun and good exercise. But Josh, being the classic overachiever he was, then decided we should train for a marathon.

So we did. Together. It was hard, but we did it and supported one another the whole way through.

When he kissed me at the finish line, it was like we had crossed some milestone in our marriage, making us unshakable.

But over time, he lost interest in running. Work took up more and more of his time. He enrolled in a grueling trauma surgery fellowship, getting further and further away from his original plans to focus on internal medicine.

He was away for days at a time, sleeping at the hospital and coming home only to take a shower and turn around again.

I offered to move closer to the city to save him the commute, but he was insistent that we stay in Havenport, where the kids and I could be close to our parents and our social support.

While I studied him, taking in how bright and healthy his eyes looked, how strong and muscular his physique had become, I’d failed to notice Moira Cunningham slither up to him at the bar like a fucking snake.

I had known Moira since grade school, and even back then, she was a brat. Whiny and entitled, she had mocked me mercilessly in high school for my good grades and my lack of interest in boys. I despised her then and I despised her now.

She was a successful realtor in town, and our paths only crossed occasionally. She was smart enough to stay away from my clinic, and she didn’t have kids, so I never had to worry about running into her at sporting events or school activities.

But right now, her hand was on my husband’s arm, and she was tossing her long blond hair and giggling.

That bitch. I was going to kill her dead.

Yes, I was a thirty-five-year-old mother of two and a medical professional, but at this moment, I was a thirteen-year-old girl with a grudge. And I wanted to dunk that bitch’s face in a toilet bowl.

I stood up and knocked my drink over.

“Are you okay?” Nora asked, concerned, as she righted my glass and dabbed at the puddle on the table with her napkin.

I nodded toward the bar, and her head snapped around to look.

“Oh, hell no,” she said, standing next to me. She tapped Astrid, shooing her out of the booth with one hand.

Astrid, in turn, followed my gaze and cracked her knuckles menacingly.

“Say the word, Mags, and I will drop-kick her skinny ass onto the sidewalk,” Nora said, eyes gleaming.

Thankfully my little sister was more sober and took that moment to intervene. “No ass kicking, ladies,” she said.

Astrid’s face fell.

“Maggie, go over there and calmly speak to your husband. We’re adults, for Chrissake.”

“Easy for you to say,” I snarled at her. “If Moira Cunningham was rubbing her praying mantis legs all over Liam, you would be singing a different tune.”

Cece smiled at me. “No, I would calmly handle it.”

“Bullshit,” Emily coughed. “We both know you would cut that bitch so fast. With a sweet smile on your face, of course.”

My friends all laughed, including Cece. I took advantage of the distraction and slid out of the booth, then made my way over to the bar. I tossed my hair and strutted up to where they were standing, immediately inserting myself between Moira and my husband.

“What do you want, Moira?” I asked, giving her an icy smile. Thankfully I was several inches taller than she was and had a solid thirty pounds on her. Plus, if things went down, I had my girls as backup.

She glanced over to the booth where my friends sat, all eyes focused on her. “I never knew you had so many friends, Maggie,” she said in a sickly sweet tone. “I assumed you were still a weird loner like you were in high school.”

I took a step toward her and glared. “Please move along. I need to speak to my husband.”

She shrugged. “Oh, sorry. I thought you two were divorced.” She leaned in so only I could hear her. “Figured Josh finally realized he could do better.”

She stood up, tossed her hair, and walked over to Josh, casually handing him a business card. “Call me, handsome.” And she sauntered away, looking over her shoulder at me and smirking.

I saw red. The alcohol swirled in my bloodstream, making me angry and more than a little horny. So I did the only thing I could think of. I grabbed Josh by the back of the head and kissed him. And not a light peck either. A full-on, open-mouthed kiss. The kind of kiss that opens the door to nudity.

I broke away, steadying myself with a hand on his chest. My heart was racing, and my legs were shaking. I wanted to drag him into the ladies’ room and have my way with him. But that couldn’t happen. I had to get myself under control.

Josh wrapped his arms around me, and I got a whiff of his shampoo. “What was that about? Did you just pee on my leg?” His mischievous smile brought me back to the man I had fallen in love with back in college.

I took in the crinkles around his eyes and the breadth of his shoulders. When we fell in love, he was just a boy. Now he was a man. My husband. The father of my children. But in moments like these, I saw a flash of the tall, nerdy boy I’d fallen for.

I couldn’t lie to him. Especially not in my current state of inebriation.

“Yes. I did.” I said defiantly. “You are my husband, and I don’t want the town skank hitting on you.” I poked him in the chest to make my point. Shit. It was rock hard. When did he get so jacked?

He wrapped a strong arm around me and brushed the lightest kiss along my temple. “She’s harmless and I’m not interested.”

The warmth of his body soothed my rage, the natural way we fit together prompting my muscles to relax and my body to sag into him. It took my brain a minute to catch up—we were separated, and this shouldn’t be happening.

He gave me another squeeze. “But I do like seeing you jealous. It’s a nice boost to the old ego. It’s good to see the fire in your eyes again, Maggie.”

I pulled away, but his arm tightened before I could get away. “How do you feel about ice cream?” he asked.

His eyes twinkled, reminding me so much of our time together in college.

We were both so poor and exhausted from the endless tests and labs and study groups that our “dates” consisted of going out for ice cream.

We took the T all over Boston, finding new spots and trying new flavors.

On those nights, riding the train with his arm around me, life was so idealistic and I felt loved.

It had been ages since we’d had ice cream together.

“It’s thirty degrees out,” I said.

“Who cares? It’s never stopped you before.” He wasn’t wrong. And I wanted to spend time with Josh. Not Josh the dad or Josh the doctor, but my Josh. And he was making a rare appearance tonight.

“Okay, fine. Let’s get some ice cream.”