Page 21 of When the Walls Come Down
“Yeah. Suffice to say my mom didn’t get out much.”
Five kids, including Maggie, if my math was correct. Her mom must have been a saint.
“What does she think about you moving all the way across the country?” I asked.
Sure, I’d already moved out of their basement, but my parents had practically loaded the truck and driven me to California when Casey had hired me at the brewery. Then again, they’d been eager to see their newest grandbaby too. So we’ll say their “helpfulness” was mostly because of Roe—even if that’s total bullshit and they just wanted me to do something.
“I like to think she’s proud of me. Proud that I’m out living life and not letting it pass me by.” Earnest, blue eyes looked up at me as we rounded a corner to the market. “She died when I was little.”
Not sure what to say, I covered her hand with mine and gave it a squeeze. “I hate to hear that.” The tender subject hadn’t been brought up intentionally, and though I didn’t want to bypass it altogether or permanently, I wanted her smile back.
We stopped at the first stand we came to, and I thanked my lucky stars that it was set up by the entrance. “Maybe you’ll tell me more about her sometime. For now, what kind of flowers did she like?”
Her lips pinched to one side as she appraised the flower stand’s offerings. “I’m not sure, but we had a lilac bush in the backyard and she always had a vase of them on the table when they were in bloom.”
“Lilacs it is.” I pulled my wallet out. “I’ll take all of them,” I said to the elderly man behind the table. It wasn’t like they had a bushel or anything, but there were plenty to make a nice big bouquet for her new apartment.
After the florist wrapped the ends in paper, Maggie took the big bunch just as he was passing them to me. “Let me carry them,” she requested. She held them to her face for a big sniff. Then, just as quickly, she wrapped an arm around my back and gave me a half hug. “Thank you, Shane.”
She smiled, which was an improvement, but I wanted the fire in her eyes to come back too, like it had been in the hallway when she’d picked me up for our date. I knew there was only one way to do it.
“No thanks needed. Now try to keep up with me in those shoes. I have to find a lady my sister best described as the Basil Bitch. I hope, since you’re a kickboxer, you’ll be able to take a punch for me if needed.”
Maggie chuckled and scrunched her nose.
“Peach, I swear I’ll run and get you help if she gets violent,” I teased, watching her tenacity return.
“You’re gonna need help if you call me that one more time.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” I winked at her and linked our hands. “Promises. Promises.”When we got back to the building, she went to her apartment first to change footwear and put her flowers in the blown-glass vase she’d fallen in love with at the market—which she hadn’t let me pay for.
I invited her back and told her to come on in when she was done.
As promised, Blake had used her key to let herself into my place and drop off the rest of the things I’d need for the special spaghetti. She’d even brought dessert and a note that read: Follow the instructions on the back of the card, since I’m sure you didn’t write it down earlier. And be careful with the cheesecake. It has magical powers. Have fun and don’t bore her.
She’d even gone through all the trouble of measuring the ingredients out and cutting everything up. She’d minced the garlic, and I was fairly sure all the mozzarella was fresh. All I really had to do was throw it all together into a pan, pop the rolls into the oven, boil some water, and chop the basil we’d bought from the Herb Troll when the Basil Bitch was nowhere to be found.
There were two quick knocks at my door, and I yelled, “Come in!” She’d only been away for maybe ten minutes, but that was enough for me. Even after the hours we’d spent together that evening, I wasn’t anywhere near ready for it to end.
“That smells incredible,” Maggie said as she strolled in.
I had to admit I loved the sight of her coming through my door.
“Too bad none of it’s for you,” I replied.
She stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes glued to the wall of windows that covered the entirety of the back of my apartment. It was gorgeous at night with the San Francisco skyline dancing in the distance. Those windows were at least seventy-five percent of the reason I’d rented the apartment four years ago. The building’s proximity to Bay Brewing was the other twenty-five.
