Page 70 of Anchored

“Make a plan,” I say out loud. Mookie comes running over, so I scoop her up and deposit her into my lap while I think.

I have a note on my phone with all the things I plan to do and hope in my heart that everything will be just fine. Then I pull out my phone, go to the text string with Maple to see that she tried to text me when she was at the restaurant.

Me: I’m so sorry, Maple. What you saw is absolutely not what you think. I love you.

She doesn’t respond all night, and I toss and turn on the floor without her.

ChapterTwenty-Seven

Maple

I don’t think I got more than an hour or two of sleep on the floor in Grandma’s living room. She listened to me blubber and rant and rave when I first got here last night. She said all the right things to calm me down. I actually fell asleep with my head in her lap while she stroked my hair. She used to do that when I was little. We’d sit in front of the fire that we didn’t need in the middle of summer but still lit because we both loved to stare into the flames. I’d calmed down enough to sleep after she insisted I needed to talk to Holt before I made any kind of decisions, but my brain had whirled all night long, making me restless.

A crazy dream about trying to do yoga in the middle of the lake on an inflatable raft while Dexter laughed at me and Holt didn’t even notice my ridiculousness because he was too busy flirting with Macy on one bulging bicep and Megan on the other, dissolved into thin air when a hard knock on the door comes a little before seven in the morning. I roll and manage to hop to my feet a little dizzy, feeling like I’m still bobbing on the lake water. Grandma’s blue flowered muumuu, the one I’d borrowed last night so I didn’t have to sleep in a dress, hangs down to my knees.

The door swings open easily under my hand, and I instantly regret getting the door when I see who’s here.

Macy Freaking Bechtol.

She lifts a hand with a perfect manicure of black polish and a statement ring that looks a little like it could double as a weapon. She glances at my outfit but manages not to laugh. “Hey. Sorry to bother you so early, but it took me awhile to figure out where your grandma lived.”

I lean against the door, my very bones tired. My eyes are so puffy from crying I’m not sure they’re open all the way. I’m unwilling, on a cellular level, to play this game with Macy today.

“Why are you here, Macy?” Maybe later I’ll look back on this moment and be proud I didn’t let myself be swayed into being nice and inviting her in when what I really want to do is shut the door on her face and go back to bed for a year or two.

She nods curtly, like she knows she has to get on with it or her time here will be up. “I’m sorry for whatever misunderstanding I stepped into last night. No one knows yet, but I’m getting married again and my therapist said I needed to have closure on a few things with Holt first. I went over there to square that away and we were chatting, but then he asked me what time it was and freaked out. Then you came in.”

My brain, the one that had imagined at least a dozen different scenarios last night before I drifted off to sleep, had an epiphany. Maybe the one scenario I haven’t considered is that everything was perfectly innocent and Holt had simply lost track of time like he frequently does. Maybe my bias is the entire reason I saw what I thought I saw. My own heartbreak had created a lens in which I saw everything as suspect. I didn’t even give Holt a chance to speak. I just assumed the worst and took off.

My eyes slide shut and I sag further into the door. “So…”

“Well, Holt was really messed up when you left so quickly. I could see how devastated he was to see you upset. I, uh, never remember him being that concerned with my well-being.” Macy reaches out and puts her hand on my arm. I tense. She stiffens. Then she lets her arm drop. “He really loves you and we were having a very innocent conversation last night. Holt’s a good man, and I don’t want to be the reason he loses you.”

The woman looks so uncomfortable. Maybe just yesterday I would have laughed at her awkwardness, thinking she deserved to feel that way for all the times she made me feel terrible. Today, however, I appreciate her willingness to step into our business and apologize. I will be the bigger person, just like she’s doing now.

“Thank you, Macy. I appreciate you coming over and letting me know what happened.” We share a timid smile, then Macy looks down at her boots.

“Well, I better get to work. Again, I hope everything works out for you two.”

“And I wish you and your fiancé nothing but the best as well. Congrats.”

She smiles broadly, then turns to leave, stopping in her tracks when Holt comes around the corner with a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a tray of Jackie’s baked goods from the Lakehouse Bakery. His face holds the same expression mine must have held when I opened the door and saw Macy. He’s in jeans and a colored polo, looking so handsome my body actually aches to run to him.

His jaw goes tight, and he practically growls Macy’s name. And not in a sexy way. In awhat the hell are you doing hereway.

“I was just heading out,” she murmurs, skirting around him and leaving quickly.

Holt looks over to me, his gaze scanning across my features with something akin to a caress. When he focuses on the puffy eyes, I can see the uncertainty creep into his eyes. The absolute concern and love and forgiveness I also see are emotions I don’t deserve. Instead of trusting him, I immediately assumed the worst and ran away.

“Is it okay if we talk?” Holt asks quietly, not coming any closer.

As much as I didn’t have the energy to spar with Macy this morning, I don’t have the energy to stay away from him. It’s like that deep sigh I let out when I’ve done over an hour of yoga and I finally allow my body to sink down into savasana. I need to be near Holt. Need to curl up next to him so I can soak him in and get my big sigh of relief and comfort.

He’s home.

The home I’ve never felt on an emotional level. He’s my safe space where I can be exactly myself. He’s the safety net that allows me to try new things and grow and explore. He’s everything I’ve been searching for and compromising on in the past. Which is the very thought that gives me the courage to apologize for last night. He loves me. And I’m going to trust that he can forgive me.

I run straight toward him, ignoring the scratchy brick walkway under my bare feet, and barrel into his chest. He catches me with an audibleoof, his arms coming around my back and steadying me. His heart is pounding under my ear, but his words of comfort are soothing.

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