Page 60 of A First Sight

As I climbed into the back seat, the driver asked me where to go, and I realized only one place came to mind.

I gave the address and settled in the seat. The driver wasn’t talkative, and she simply waited for me to buckle up and then pulled into traffic. As the buildings passed, I thought about what I would say and what excuse I would give. How I was going to deal with the fall-out of what just happened.

Then I tried hardnotto think about it because if I continued that, I’d either throw up or start to cry, neither of which were good options right now.

When this pain passed, I could focus on my life in the New York Philharmonic. Because the pain would pass. This one would, and so would the next.

I swallowed hard and pressed my hand to my chest. That didn’t make it hurt any less right now.

“Here we are,” the driver said as she came to a stop.

A minute later, I was standing in front of the door.

“Maggie?”

“Can I come in?”

* * *

Two weeks later

Spring was here—sortof—and in New York City, that meant it was gray and dreary outside, which did nothing to improve my mood.

Toast with raspberry jam and freshly cooked sausage should have been the perfect way to start my day, but I didn’t like it. I hadn’t been able to enjoy much in the last couple of weeks, honestly.

If I could have looked at it with any sort of perspective, I would’ve told myself I was an idiot. The incident wasn’t worth feeling like this.

Hewasn’t worth it.

And yet, I still found myself taking that damn letter out of my pocket and putting it on the table next to my plate.

An actual letter, not a printed email. And not type-written either. Handwritten on stationery and put into an envelope with my name. Dropped off at my brother Carson’s studio the day after I left Drake Mac Gilleain’s penthouse.

Not that I needed it in front of me to know what it said. I’d had it memorized for a while.

Maggie, I wish I could write ‘dear’ as a greeting, but I know I’ve lost that privilege. I wouldn’t blame you if you decided to throw this letter away without reading it in its entirety, but I hope that, since you’ve opened it and read the first few sentences, you’ll make it to the end. Not because my explanation justifies my actions, but because you deserve to know the whole truth.

But before I do that, I want to apologize for deceiving you. And for my behavior. I don’t expect your forgiveness, but my apology needed to be extended, even if only for the acknowledgment of how I badly wronged you.

From there, he explained how he was at a restaurant when he saw me for the first time, stunned by my resemblance to his late wife. It was the day of their anniversary. He said he never intended things to happen the way they did.

…but when I saw those bruises on your arm that day at the deli, I needed to ensure that you were safe.

It kills me that my actions caused Dale to hurt you. I’ll never forgive myself for that.

You deserve the best this world offers, and I am self-aware enough to know that I am not what’s best for you, not with all of this between us. I don’t know if you’ll ever forgive me, and I won’t push for it. But if you ever need me for anything, I’ll always be here for you. If you won’t, I understand. I will always wish you all the joy you deserve.

No matter what, I remain yours, Drake.

I closed my eyes as I reached the end, but I could still see the words in my head. I hated that he was beating himself up over what Dale did to me. Only Dale was responsible for his actions.

The lies and broken trust were the things Drakeshouldfeel guilty about, and I believed he felt guilty.

Except I wasn’t sure I could trust my gut anymore. My instincts hadn’t warned me about Dale when we first met, and by the time I realized Dale was abusive, I was making excuses for him.

“Morning, Mags.”

I pulled the letter off the table and onto my lap. Being the wonderful big brother he was, Carson pretended not to notice. He pretended not to see a lot of things recently, accepting what I told him and not asking a bunch of questions.

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