Page 60 of Offside Bride

“I’ve tried everything I can think of,” she says with a sigh. “Caesar ciphers, Vigenère, even that stupid pig pen thing you were obsessed with in middle school.”

“Hey, don’t knock the pig pen. It got us through many a boring history class.”

“Speak for yourself,” she murmurs.

“Well, at least we know Dad’s keeping his mind sharp in the slammer.”

Siobhan rolls her eyes, but I can see the hint of a smile. “Yeah, well, I’d prefer if he’d stick to sudoku like a normal inmate.”

I take a deep breath, deciding it’s time to change the subject. “Hey, speaking of mysterious packages, I actually need a favor from you.”

She snorts. “Oh? This should be good.”

“It’s nothing crazy,” I assure her. “I’m just going to be sending some packages to your place.”

“Packages?” Siobhan’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “What kind of packages?”

“Books, actually.”

“Books?” she says skeptically, like she can’t even believe I know how to read.

I shrug, aiming for nonchalance. “Yep, books. They’ll come in small batches. One or two at first, then more as time goes on. I just can’t have them sent here.”

“Okay…” She narrows her eyes. “And what exactly are you planning to do with all these mysterious books?”

“I’m just supporting a local author I know,” I say, which isn’t entirely a lie. “Look, you can do whatever you want with them. Donate them to charity, fill up those little free libraries around your neighborhood in Boston. I don’t care, really. Just…don’t mention them to Maggie, all right?”

Siobhan’s eyebrows hit her hairline. “Oh? And why shouldn’t I mention them to your wife?”

I groan internally. I should’ve known better than to try and slip anything past my too-smart-for-her-own-good sister. “It’s…complicated. Can you just trust me on this one?”

She studies me for a moment, then shrugs. “Fine, keep your secrets. But you owe me one, big brother. Now, are you going to tell me why you had a rush-rush wedding or do you want me to guess?”

“You know there is a name for people who are always wrong about everything all the time... Husband!”

— BILL MAHER

19

MAGGIE

Slipping into bed next to Sawyer, I’m hyper-aware of his presence. The mattress dips slightly under his weight, and I can feel the warmth radiating from his body. I try to keep my breathing steady, but my heart is racing. It will be impossible to sleep like this, and I think he’s feeling just as tense as I am.

I clear my throat, desperate to break the awkward silence. “You know, I was kinda surprised when I first saw this place,” I say, staring at the ceiling. “I half-expected some swanky bachelor pad with a revolving bed and a hot tub in the living room.”

Sawyer chuckles. “Sorry to disappoint. I can have one installed if you like.”

“It’s just…It’s so…homey,” I continue. “I mean, I Zillow-stalked it—don’t judge—and six million for three bedrooms? In this economy?”

He shifts, turning to face me. In the dim light, I can see a hint of vulnerability in his eyes. “I bought it with a different future in mind,” he says softly.

“Oh?”

He sighs, as if letting out all the manic excitement of the day. “I always thought I’d have a wife, kids…the whole kit and kaboodle. Before everything went sideways with my family.”

His words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken anguish. I turn on my side, our faces inches apart on the pillow. “And now you don’t want that anymore?” I ask softly.

Sawyer’s hand finds mine under the covers, his thumb tracing gentle circles on my palm. “Finding out my entire childhood was a lie kind of put a damper on those plans.”

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