Page 195 of Falling Backwards
Our kisses continue until she whispers, “Okay.”She’s responding to what I’ve said aloud, but it feels like she has also heard what I’m thinking.
Good thing she actually hasn’t, because then she’d have heardallmy thoughts, and I don’t want to hurt her with those.I don’t want to hurt myself either.
Needing another little bit of steadiness from present-day Maggie, I lean back enough to see her.I look at the familiar casual prettiness of her hair hanging long over her shoulders.I look at the perfect shape and features of her face.I look at the lips I just kissed, which are tipping into a sweet little smile.I look at the graceful hand she’s holding the mac and cheese spoon with and then the rest of her, which is in lounge clothes—including the extra sweatpants I bought—because she hasn’t put on her Thanksgiving outfit yet.
Yeah, this is the version of her I want in my head.And the me that’s standing here with her is the version I want in hers.
As if once again in some kind of knowing, her small smile grows.Then she turns to the mac and cheese, which hopefully hasn’t been overcooking….Nah, it looks awesome as she gives it a few stirs to make up for its recent stillness.
“Ready to try this?”she asks.
My mouth starts to water; I forgot I’m supposed to be a taste tester.“Ooh, yeah.Gimme.”
She giggles as I close my hand around where hers is holding the big utensil so both of us can guide a bite of the steaming food to my mouth.She warns me that it’s hot, and I think of joking about how steam does generally mean things are hot.Instead, I just blow on the food and shovel it into my mouth.
Aw,hellyeah.
“Mmm,” I hum, feeling my eyes go wide as I nod at her.“Okay, that’s some good-ass mac and cheese.”
Her face lights up.“Really?We did a good job?”
“We did agreatjob.How about a tad more salt and pepper?”
We put the finishing touches on the food and then this time she joins me in trying it.In unison, we say, “It’s perfect!”and we laugh and end up in one more peck of a kiss.Well, two more pecks.Wellll,three….
And we are officially back to normal, both in my head and with each other.
“Okay, okay,” I say on another laugh against her lips.“We’re gonna be here forever if we don’t—”
“Yeah, we gotta get ready to go,” she laughs again, too, through my words.We let go of each other and she turns the stove off, then moves the mac and cheese off the heat.“Let’s pack up and get changed.”
That’s what we do.Soon, she’s stepping out of the bathroom just as I’m exiting my bedroom.I’ve changed the clothes I somehow got food on, and she’s…damn, man, she’s in a dressy outfit that looks so good on her it makes my hands ache.Fall-colored and clinging yet comfortable, classy and sweet and a different angle ofMaggie.
“Is any of it too tight?”she asks me diffidently.Her fingers brush over the cardigan she has unbuttoned over her dress, then the skinny belt around her waist.“Itfeelsgood, but….”
“Does it?”I ask.
She nods and actually gives a smile.
It makesmesmile.
I say, “Then what I think of how it fits doesn’t matter.It wouldn’t matter whatanyonethought.The only important thing is how you feel.”Raising my eyebrows, I add, “But for the record, no, I don’t think it’s too tight.I think you look amazing.”I shrug.“Ialwaysthink that.”
Her expression has shifted so much over these last seconds: she was briefly crestfallen like my,‘My opinion doesn’t matter,’thing was code for me not liking the clothes, and then she looked relieved and happy, and now she’s settling into something else.Calmness?Surety?
It reminds me of when we stood at my bar counter, sweaty from exercise but still standing close with our hands on each other, and she told me I’ve been making her want to like herself.
I’m as moved now as I was then.
Even more so when she tells me, “You’re right.”After a beat, more softly, “Being judgmental towards myself gets so old.”
“Yeah, fuck that,” I say.“However you are is awesome, so love it.”
I only barely catch myself before I keep going with something that gives away howIlove her.
This is not the moment I want to tell her that.I want to tell her when wearen’tabout to rush out the door to go eat food with another person.Or just…generally not in a moment that isn’t the best it can be.
Luckily, she doesn’t seem to suspect there were any other words on my tongue.She’s just grinning and clasping her hands together low in front of herself—and looking at me the way I know I’ve been looking at her.
