“It’s not just sex, McKay.”
“I know. I know it’s not. And that’s why we need to unravel things slowly. Because if we go too fast, we’ll start tying more knots.”
She seems content with that answer because we’re both silent for a long time after that.
I think about Nathan. I feel like I’ve been thinking about that kid my whole life at this point. And there’s nothing I can do to change the way it turned out. What happened, happened. And I have to live with it.
So I take my own advice and start to forget…
Indie falls asleep first, and even though I’m determined to stay awake—leftover paternal responsibilities, maybe?—I can’t help it. I drift off.
When I wake up the water is going tepid. So I get up, help her out, dry her off, then myself. And then we put night clothes on.
She finds a t-shirt and shorts in her dresser drawer. Old clothes this time. From before. And I find a pair of sweats in my room.
Then I go back to her room, climb into bed next to her, wrap my arms around her middle, tug her back up to my chest, and close my eyes. So ready for this day to be over.
“You didn’t wash my hair.”
I open one eye. “What?”
“You didn’t wash my hair. Or comb it out. So I just want you to know, that bath didn’t count.”
I hug her a little tighter and then drift into a dream where all this happened, and nothing is different. The bad, and the good. The laughs and the tears. The things we did right and all of the mistakes.
They come to me in dream, after dream, after dream.
And still, I hear myself insist…
I would do it all again.
When I wake in the morning I feel like I’m having déjà vu because I can hear Indie and Donovan talking down in the kitchen. I swing my legs out of bed, then wonder how she got out of my arms without waking me up.
God, I’m getting too old for this shit.
Anyway, the conversation downstairs doesn’t sound heated or confrontational. So I give myself a break for the security lapse.
When I wander into the kitchen Donovan is still wearing yesterday’s clothes. Motherfucker really did stay downstairs all night. He’s sitting on a barstool at the kitchen island and Indie is sitting on the counter, searching through a cupboard.
I walk over to her, grab her by the waist, and swing her off the counter. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Oh, good. You’re up. We’re hungry.”
And for a second… I swear to God, it’s ten years earlier. She is fourteen. The Company hasn’t fallen. Indie never got pregnant. I am making breakfast. Donovan is probably gonna leave a little later to go back to school. Adam will come downstairs any minute now and say something to make us groan.
Everything is perfect.
But of course, this girl standing in front of me isn’t fourteen and while things might get better, they will never be that good again.
I do realize it’s fucked up to want the Company back. But after nearly ten years without them… I just can’t talk myself into it anymore.
Things did not get better. Nothing got better. The world is still filled with evil people, it’s just a whole new set of evil people we have no authority over.
When I think about the Company these days all I feel is… powerless.
“So… pancakes?”
I glance at Donovan, decide he’s taking this new day well, and scratch my neck as I nod. “Sure. I’ll make us some pancakes.”
If there was some fly-on-the-wall person watching us, they’d peg us all sociopaths. Who has a night like we did and then wakes in the morning talking about pancakes?
We do. That’s who.
Because we’ve been playing the game of Let’s-Pretend-That-Didn’t-Happen for so long now, it’s just business as usual.
I’m just starting to whisk up some batter when the familiar sound of truck tires on the gravel driveway leak in from outside.
All three of us stop what we’re doing to look down the hallway at the front door.
“Adam.” Indie darts down the hallway. “I knew he’d be back.”
Donovan sighs. Which makes me sigh.
We are all so tired. Donovan and I drag ourselves after Indie and it feels a lot like Christmas Day, when Indie would get up early. Very early. And force us all down here to open presents.
Of course, we were excited for Christmas. And of course, we’re glad Adam came to his senses. But it’s early. Or maybe too late? And we’re just… exhausted.
But when we step out onto the porch we see Indie there. Stock still. Hand over her mouth. Staring at Adam’s truck.
And when I stare at the truck, I see why.
Because looking back at us from the driver’s side is Adam. But looking back at us from the passenger side…
Donovan takes a step forward. “What… the fuck?” Then he’s going down the porch steps.
I walk up next to Indie, stunned.
Because in the passenger side is… Maggie.
But it’s not possible. She died. Adam told us she died in the hospital from liver failure after eating those daphne berries. It took three days I remember that so clearly. Three days of waiting to see what happened to our precious little girl. Three days of agony. By the time Adam’s text came in, both Indie and Donovan had been gone for two days. Indie by way of bedroom window. Donovan just called a fuckin’ car to take him to the airstrip where he kept his stupid jet.
But it’s her.
It’s Maggie. I would recognize her in a crowd of a thousand.
So obviously, Adam is a damn liar.
Adam is talking to her inside the truck. He’s pointing at us. I put an arm around Indie and pull her into me.
She struggles for a moment, but then relents. “I don’t understand what’s happening. Is that—”
The little blonde girl—spittin’ fucking image of her mother—gets out of the truck and starts walking towards Donovan.
Adam meets Maggie on the other side of the truck and takes her hand. Maggie is nearly six now. She smiles up at Adam. The two of them walk up to the bottom of the porch. I stare at him, but he doesn’t meet my gaze. He looks at Indie. “I told you last night I made a deal with those flowers. And I am a lot of things, Indie Anna Accorsi, but I am not a liar.”
“You told me she was dead,” I say, contradicting him.
“I never said that, McKay. I sent you a text.”
“That text said she was dead, Adam.”
“No, McKay. That text said ‘it’s over.’ And I meant it. It was over. Maggie spent three days in the hospital and then I took her home with me.”
“What home?” I’m angry and it’s not easy to hide. “Because you sure as hell didn’t bring her here.”
“My house in Baton Rouge.”
I suck in a deep breath. Still holding tight to Indie.
“You had no right.” I’m so fuckin’ pissed.
Donovan walks over to Maggie and bends down. “Hey there, Mags. Do you remember me? I’m Donovan.”
But Adam and I are still having a conversation and Indie is too shocked to move out of my embrace.
“I had every right, McKay. She tried to kill us.”