Page 47 of Camera Chemistry
“I don’t want any woman,” I say. “I want her.”
“Then wait,” Shawn says. He pushes my legs off the couch cushion and sits next to me. “One day soon, you’ll know when it’s time to reach out.”
“Is the universe going to wave a big sign my way so I know what to do and when?”
“Maybe. Maybe it’ll be more subtle. But when it’s time, you’ll know.”
“God, what would I even say? ‘Hey, I know we had one night together, but I think I could spend the rest of my life with you?’ That’s not fucking creepy at all.”
“Will you relax?” Shawn chuckles. “You weren’t even this worked up when you asked Katie to marry you.”
“Yeah, because Katie was a sure thing. I knew she was going to say yes. Maggie? I have no clue if I’ll ever see her again. And if I do, I don’t know if she’ll feel the same way I do about her.”
“So you’re scared.”
“I’m fucking terrified.”
“It sounds like she’s your soulmate.”
“Soulmates are a load of shit.”
“Are they?” Shawn arches his eyebrow. “You’ve never come over to my place and downed half a bottle of bourbon to talk about a woman before. And then suddenly you meet someone at a photo shoot you weren’t going to do, have the best night of your life, then miss her when she’s gone? If that’s not a soulmate, I don’t know what is, man.”
I grunt and ignore him. I curl onto my side and close my eyes, hoping the alcohol is enough not to dream about Maggie and her pretty hair and wonderful smile. It’s been three hours since she left, and I’m already going out of my mind.
I don’t stand a fucking chance at surviving the coming weeks.
What the hell kind of sign am I waiting for?
TWENTY-EIGHT
MAGGIE
The weather turns mild.March arrives and staves off the blistering cold air. The sun thaws the snow left behind from a big storm, lingering in the sky a little longer every day. It’s not quite spring when tulips bloom and all you need is a light jacket, but it’s a reprieve from the Arctic blast we experienced over the last few weeks.
The last few weeks where I’ve been restless, doing everything in my power to avoid thinking about Aiden. Whenever the vision of him manifests—the smile he wears early in the morning while doling out a plate of pancakes, the tenderness in his eyes as he tells me I’m beautiful, the sturdiness of his palm under my body, whispering that I’m safe and he’s got me—I throw myself into other parts of my life.
I go to the hospital, offering to work overtime two, three times a week to keep my mind occupied. I pick up a book and disappear into a fantasy world, finding comfort and solace in far-off lands with swashbuckling heroes. And, as of late, I lace up my new sneakers and power walk.
Lacey and I are moving at a brisk pace down the bike path running parallel to the Potomac. The monuments on our right gleam under the light of high noon, reflections of yellow catching in the gentle river waves. A jogger passes us with a wave, her enthusiastic vigor for exercise causing Lacey and I to exchange a look and dissolve into giggles.
We stop for a breather, pulling off to the side and taking a seat on a cluster of rocks. The sharp edges scrape against the back of my thighs as I get comfortable, staring out across the water. Aiden’s out there, somewhere, amongst the buildings and trees and the thousands of other residents of our metropolis. Walking down the street. Saving children. Spending time with his daughter. Living life, undeterred by our expeditious parting.
It pains me to reminisce, to ruminate on the mess of his hair when he gets out of the shower and the spare pillows he keeps in his closet. I kick a pebble and watch it careen down the steep slope into the waiting pool of water below.
“I can’t stop thinking about him,” I admit through a rush of words, breaking the silence. “I haven’t since I left his apartment.”
It’s the first time I’ve spoken the truth out loud and acknowledged the validity of feelings I’ve kept locked inside. When I told Lacey details about my night with Aiden, I talked about the physical components; how hot it was. The positions we tried. The new things I discovered I liked. I never once mentioned the deeper feelings that wove their way through the twenty-four hours, and the lingering ache in my heart in all the time that has passed.
I’m glad they’re out and I’m sharing the secret with the world. It’s a burden I no longer have to carry alone.
“I know you haven’t,” Lacey says. She doesn’t seem fazed by the admission, and I wonder how obvious I’ve been with my sulking. “Why don’t you track him down?”
“Why can’t he track me down?” I argue. “He has my number, too.”
“You’re running.” She pins me with a pointed look, and I avert my eyes. I focus on the patch of weeds growing at the base of a nearby tree.
“I’m not running. He opened the door for me.”
