Page 81 of Beg, Borrow, or Steal

After getting Madison inside, I told her I’d put on some hot chocolate. It’s a habit left over from my grandma. When we were upset, she’d sit us down with a cup of hot chocolate, even in the summer, and by the time we were at the bottom of the mug, we’d have completely poured our hearts out to her. Even me. Mentally, she’s been gone from us for a long time, but physically, she’s really and truly gone now. It’s my job to uphold the hot chocolate ritual.

Pretty much as soon as she walked through the door, Maddie dumped her bags and made a tearful beeline for the bathroom. She said she wanted to take a shower and then we’d talk. I put some water in the kettle on the stove and took her bags back to her room and unpacked them into her drawers.

I think she knew I’d do this, because she doesn’t even come back out for her bags once she’s out of the shower; she goes to her room and then comes out in baggy cotton sweatpants and a bright pink T-shirt. She took out her contacts and is wearing her turquoise-frame glasses. Seeing her here like this is a sight for sore eyes.

Maybe she’ll decide to stay and not go back.

There’s a steaming mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows waiting for her at the table, but before she sits down, she wraps me up in one more big hug. “Thank you, Em.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m always happy to make you hotchocolate.” I offer her a smile, but I realize as I do that it’s an effort to form it. Normally, when I’m sad and Maddie or Annie or Noah comes home needing me, it heals me in a strange way. But tonight, the ache left from a rejected dream and watching Jack walk out the door is pulsing with pain.

She smiles as she sits, drawing her feet up in the chair, wearing the look of a woman at peace for the first time in a long time. “It’s so good to be home. You have no idea.”

“Maddie…what’s going on? I thought you were happy in New York.”

She looks down at her hot chocolate, tapping the outside of the mug with her thumb. “I wanted you to think that, because I wanted it to be true.”

“But why?”

“Because I…” Her voice cracks and she rolls her eyes away to stave off tears. “I feel like such an idiot, Emily. Like such a little baby that misses home. I thought I was going to go to the big city and achieve my dreams and be that woman who thrives in a good trouser-and-sneakers combo. I convinced everyone here that I wasn’t made for the small-town life and I needed to go to the city where I belonged.”

“And that didn’t happen?” I ask, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“No. Not at all. You know who I am in New York? I’m the woman who cries on the subway because I miss my truck. I cry on the sidewalk because I’m so tired of hustling everywhere I walk or else I’ll get run over. I cry alone in my bed at night because I miss my family so damn much. Everyone in New York seems so sure and full of purpose and confidence and I just feel like an impostor. A country bumpkin who will never belong.”

The image she’s painted wrenches my heart. “What about classes at least? How are those going?”

She shrugs a shoulder. “I do like the classes—I’m…I’m learning a lot and my instructors are all incredible. I still love cooking, and trying out new recipes in my apartment over the weekends has been the only thing keeping me going.”

“That’s good. And what about all the guys?”

She wrinkles her nose. “They’ve been a needed distraction from my loneliness, but that’s it. I haven’t found a single guy out there that I’ve wanted to see twice. I’ve wanted to tell you so badly, but I didn’t want you to worry.”

“Madison!” I lean forward onto the table. “Why wouldn’t you let me worry? It’s what I do best!”

She huffs a sad laugh. “Because then you’d tell me to come home for a visit, and I would, and it would hurt so bad to leave again. It’s why I never come home to visit. It’s too hard to go back to New York and get into a routine.” She pauses. “But now…”

I try not to look too hopeful. “Now?”

“I’m ready to face the truth—I’m not cut out for New York. And I want to come home. Even if everyone here thinks I’m a failure or a pathetic little baby.”

I nudge her knee under the table with my foot. “We would never think that. And you didn’t fail. You just realized it wasn’t what you thought it would be—and that’s okay. You can always come home, Maddie. New York doesn’t have to be for you. But hey, at least you tried it, you know?”

“Really?” There’s hesitation in her face. Like she’s scared to let herself feel joy over this.

“Yes. Come home, Madison.”

She smiles fully, sighing a year’s worth of sighs. “Okay. I will then. I’m coming home.”

God, it feels so great to be the pieces-picker-upper again. I needed this. And besides that, my heart is glowing thinking of having my sister back home once again. We’ll have our regular Heartstournaments again before Noah and Amelia leave, and even when they’re gone, we’ll still get to have sister nights with Annie. Maybe she’ll even want to come back to work at the school.

But then there’s a flicker of something inside me that suddenly doesn’t quite feel right. Even as Madison is looking relieved and finishing her hot chocolate while talking about how she’s going to have to email her instructors and that she’ll have to arrange a good time to go out to New York and get her stuff, I’m only half listening. The other part of my brain is holding a flashlight and trying to chase down the sensation of discomfort.

Madison is still talking a mile a minute as I pick up her mug and carry it to the sink and rinse it out. But then, all of a sudden, her voice goes silent. After I load our mugs in the dishwasher, Maddie’s voice carries again. “Emily…I was going to search for a new movie we could rent, but…what is this?”

“What is wha—” I freeze once I turn the corner and see what Madison is looking at. She has my laptop open on the other end of the table, and thanks to her knowing my password, I’m willing to bet she’s looking at the email I never closed.

“Did you…did you write and submit a romance book to an agent?”

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