Page 82 of The Weekend Crashers
“Hey, Dad,” Cole says, walking in. “Didn’t want you to be all lonely in here by yourself.”
“What makes you think I’m lonely?” Aidan says, peeking down the hall before closing the door. No Maggie.
“Well, your text for one thing. But also, I wanted to say I’m sorry if my speech made you uncomfortable tonight. I’m guessing that’s why you left the party early.”
“That’s not why I left early.” The truth was, he left the party because he felt weird celebrating with the Cavanaughs while he’s falling for a new woman. He doesn’t care how much time passed, or how much Barclay himself signaled that maybehe wasn’t doing Cole any favors by remaining single. It still elicited complicated feelings.
“Well, like I said: I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”
“It didn’t make me uncomfortable. If you’re happy, I’m happy.”
Aidan doesn’t know what else to say, so he steps forward and gives his son a hug. When they separate, he says, “I look forward to getting to know Kalli after this weekend. So go—enjoy the rest of your night.”
“I don’t want to ditch you. I know you wanted a bonding weekend and I haven’t been a great partner in that.”
“This... right here. That’s all I could ask for. So go! Don’t worry about me.” It’s time to break the habit of pretending like there’s no one in his life but Cole. Barclay is right about that. “Actually, I’m not going to be alone. Maggie Hodges is stopping by after the party.”
Cole frowns. Aidan wonders what he said wrong. Was that too much sharing?
“Dad, I’m pretty sure Maggie left.”
“She left the party?”
“No—she left the inn. Left town. Piper texted me she had to run back to the city and that it was a long story. And then someone at the party said they saw Maggie leaving with her bags.”
Aidan is embarrassed. He wished he’d never brought it up.
“Go have a good night,” he says. “It’s a relief, actually. I’m beat.”
Maggie just took off like that? Without a word? Well, if that’s the way she is, better to find out now.
He changes into his sweats.
Maggie exits the GW Bridge at the Henry Hudson Parkway to reach the West Side instead of her home on the Upper East.
During the two-hour drive back from New Hope, she replayed the scene on the porch over and over, like a bad dream she could defang if she just thought about it rationally. And then she tries to remember what, exactly, she’d said to Ethan the evening he showed up at the store. Had it been that bad, really? That an engagement would put pressure on Piper? It was true.
But in the end, Piper just quit her job anyway. Just like that—as casually as if she were canceling her Netflix subscription.
Every thought she has hurts more than the last. She wants to get home, crawl into her own bed, pull the covers up high, rewind to last week and not say a word to Ethan.You said nothing to me about your conversation with him. Nothing!Maggie wished she could unsee the disappointment on Piper’s face when she spat out the words, but she’s afraid it’s indelible.
Maggie should have told her about her conversation with Ethan the minute Piper confided in her about their argument that first night at the retreat.Thatwas what she’d done wrong. And she’ll be the first to admit it—if Piper gives her the chance.
It takes Maggie ten minutes to find parking that’s in reasonable walking distance to Ethan’s apartment. The building is close to Columbus, and has a gate with a latch, a short flight of stairs, and then a heavy wrought-iron door that opened to a vestibule. The vestibule has an old-fashioned call-up intercom with the tenants’ names and apartments listed. Beyond that, a locked door.
Driving through the inky darkness of New Hope had felt like the middle of the night. But here, on the streets of Manhattan, people are still walking back from dinner, from the theater, from a run to the corner bodega. She presses the apartment buzzer, and after a few seconds of crackling static she hears Ethan’s voice over the intercom. “Hello?”
“Ethan, it’s Maggie. I need to talk to Piper.”
“I’m sorry, Maggie. Piper doesn’t want to talk right now. It’s late. Maybe you two can—”
“This can’t wait,” Maggie says. Silence. And then:
“Leave me alone!”Piper yells so loud the metal frame of the intercom seems to vibrate.
Maggie shrinks back. She stands alone in the vestibule, under the punishing fluorescent light of the wall sconce.
The door opens and a couple walk inside with a rush of cool air and smattering of dry leaves skittering across the floor. They’re in their thirties, maybe a little drunk, holding hands and very definitely into each other. The guy unlocks the door, then turns to Maggie. “You need to come in?”
