Maggie and Jordan couldn’t help but obey. These were apparently some important cookies. They joined him on the bed, and each popped one of the small treats in her mouth.
Jordan let out a long, “Mmmmm,” while Maggie’s expression betrayed nothing of what she felt.
“You’re kidding me, right?” Miles asked. “You don’t like it?”
Maggie shook her head. “It’s not that.”
Ugh. Obviously both Miles and Jordan needed some sort of comfort of their own. Why else would they have shown up? But Maggie was in no position to make someone else feel better when she felt so crappy herself.
“Hey,” Miles said, his voice soft and gentle, as if he’d heard her inner monologue and knew that whatever he needed her for, maybe right now she needed him a little bit more. “It’s okay, Mags.” He grabbed her hand between his and kissed her knuckles. “Whatever it is, we’ll fix it.”
Maggie pressed her lips together and forced a smile while Jordan popped another cookie into her mouth.
“I’m listening,” Jordan said. “Just burying my emotions in powdered sugar.” She squeezed Maggie’s knee. “How about you go first, then, Miles?”
“Like a circle of sharing or something?” he asked. “I dig it.” He rose and padded over to the dresser until he found whatever he was looking for. Then he joined the two girls on the bed again. “Here.” He handed Maggie a miniature bottle of ouzo. “Like Lord of the Flies. Our own version of the conch shell. Whoever has the ouzo has the floor. All others shall remain quiet.”
Jordan held up a third cookie. “Sucks to your ass-mar!” Then she popped it into her mouth.
Miles narrowed his eyes at her.
“Sorry,” Jordan said. “Couldn’t help it. Maggie has the conch.”
“Fine,” Maggie said. “I’ll do this on one condition. No advice or trying to solve anyone else’s problems until we’ve all had the floor to air our grievances.”
“This is very official,” Miles said. “I like it.”
And then Maggie started from the beginning—from coming home a mess the other night, to Griffin not only keeping the letter from her but not telling her he was applying for the fellowship in the first place, to Maggie telling him she couldn’t move to Washington. As soon as she finished, Miles opened his mouth to speak, but Maggie shook her head.
“You aren’t holding the conch yet, and I’m not quite done with it.”
She unscrewed the top and took a tiny sip, really only for the purpose of ceremony. Then she closed it back up and handed it to Miles.
“No comments on my story,” she told him. “Only your story. And then you drink and pass it to Jordan.”
He accepted the bottle without hesitation.
“Deal,” he said. “But I’m going out of order.” He took his sip before he spoke. “Liquid courage,” he added. “May not be much, but it’s more than I had thirty seconds ago.”
Jordan narrowed her eyes. “There better be enough left for me, mister.”
He shook the bottle so she could hear the liquid slosh around.
“Now zip it while I have the conch.”
Jordan made a motion of zipping her lips and throwing away the key, and for the first time that evening, Maggie laughed. Sure, life was one big ball of suck right now, but these two people—an old friend and maybe a new one, too—could get her to smile in spite of it.
“I think I’m maybe, possibly, falling for a guy I met this morning. The guy, by the way, who has made it possible for us to eat our feelings this evening—thank you, Alex. And I don’t know what’s worse—the fact that in mere hours this guy has broken down every barrier I put up for the past few years or that I don’t think I can stop this train from flying right off the tracks by the end of this weekend.”
He held up the bottle, studying it with his brows furrowed.
“Just drink it,” Jordan said.
She winked at him, and he didn’t waste a second, the bottle opened and drained almost before she finished speaking.
“I’ve been waiting years to get the dirt on you,” Maggie said, knowing it wasn’t easy for Miles to open up and wondering what brought on the change.
“I do owe you some history here. And I guess you both get to weigh in now.” Miles leaned back against the headboard and crossed and uncrossed his arms. Maggie had never seen him anything other than in control. That’s why she loved him so much. He was her best friend. Her rock. But she’d never realized that maybe all this time Miles needed his own rock, too.
“I’ve never been ashamed or afraid to be who I am,” he continued. “I enjoy sex with a man as much as I do a woman. I fall for a person’s inner beauty as much as what’s on the outside, and that should go for everyone. And maybe my options are a little broader than someone who only likes men or only likes women, but fuck. I’ve never had to apologize or defend who I was…until Cole.”
Maggie raised her hand, and Miles chuckled.
“Yes, Maggie?”
She held out her hand and stared pointedly at the empty bottle in his. He relinquished it.
“My little rule follower,” he said, and she narrowed her eyes.
“The floor is mine, now, Mr. Parker, mainly because I need a second to ask—who the hell is Cole, and can I virtually kick his ass for making you feel like you are anything other than spectacular?”
Miles snatched the bottle back. Jordan’s eyes followed the action as if she were watching a tennis match.
“Cole happened before I met you. And it wasn’t like you think. Not at first. Cole knew I was bi. But he’d only ever dated gay men before. And it was fine in the beginning. Pretty fucking fantastic, actually. Then I’d notice a beautiful woman—just look at her—and he would accuse me of switching sides. If I checked out a guy, he’d tell me to just come out already and be done with it.” He scrubbed a hand over his face, then through his hair.
Maggie knew what was coming next. She should have always known, that Miles was Miles not just because he liked to keep things light and fun. Miles was Miles because someone had broken his heart, had made him feel like he couldn’t be himself and be loved at the same time.
Maggie raised her hand again, and Jordan grabbed the empty ouzo bottle from Miles.
“I’m starting to think the whole Lord of the Flies theme maybe isn’t appropriate for our sad love stories. Plus, I don’t think Maggie here can hold her tongue anymore. I hereby retire the conch and give everyone in this room permission to speak freely. All those in favor, eat another cookie.”
All three reached for the plate at the same time. But Maggie couldn’t wait the span of time it would take to chew and swallow, so she spoke as soon as she could.
“You loved him. Didn’t you?” she asked, and Miles nodded. “But he couldn’t handle the bi thing.” Again, another nod. “Okay,” she continued. “Pep talk time, if it’s okay to do before Jordan’s turn.”
Jordan nodded earnestly, so Maggie went on.
“Cole couldn’t handle you being bi, sweetie. But that was his problem, not yours. I’m sorry he broke your heart. What’s worse is he made you believe that other people would feel the same as he did. But you are one of the most beautiful, loving people I know. Who you have the potential to fall in love with has nothing to do with your capacity to be faithful, and you know that.”
But Maggie wasn’t a stranger to insecurity or the way fear of the unknown could warp your perception. Miles was one of the strongest, most confident people she knew. At least, that’s what he’d let her see. Now she understood that they all wore masks at one time or another, not necessarily lies but only sharing one version of the truth.
“But, honey,” she continued, “keeping everyone at a distance for years is one hell of a lonely place to be. I know. I invented that game. But if you don’t risk your heart again—if you don’t trust that someone can love you for your heart and soul no matter what—then it’s worse than getting it broken because it’ll never be quite whole. Not all by itself.”