Page 25 of The Weekend Crashers
And then there’s the other fear: the fear of what her life will look like without Piper in it. Oh, sure—Piper will always be her daughter. But a marriage will change things. Maggie knew this day would come at some point. She just thought she’d have a lot more time before it did.
The bartender, a cheerful guy with a man bun, appears for her drink order, and she has a better idea than wine. With the crackling fireplace and the earthy aroma of hearty stew and something sweet and caramelized, she wants something autumnal.
“I’ll have a coffee with Baileys, please,” she says.
The man beside her turns to her. “I haven’t heard anyone order that in a long time.” And then he tries to pretend he didn’t say it. Because they recognize each other.
It’s the guy from the bachelor party. The one who stood up and apologized to her. He’s very attractive, with dark auburn hair and eyes to match. She glances at the table where he’d been sitting just a few hours earlier. The table where she yelled at him.
“Um, I think I owe you an apology,” she says. “That wasn’t me at lunch. I mean, it was me, but I think I was just upset about something else and took it out on your group. So, sorry about that.”
“Aidan Danby,” he says, holding out his hand. “And no apologies necessary. Nothing more stressful than a relaxing vacation, right?” he says.
“I’m Maggie Hodges,” she says, shaking his hand. She notices the firmness of his grip and looks up to meet his direct gaze. His eyes are remarkably the same colors as the autumn leaves, and the shared glance gives her a little shiver. Surprised by the feeling, she pulls her hand back.
“You’re with the knitting ladies?” he says.
“Well, yes. But when you say it like that, it makes me sound like I should be in a rocking chair with a cat on my lap and wearing spectacles.” She hates to admit that’s kinda the way she envisions herself in the future. And she’s just fine with that.
“Not at all. Clearly, you are a very youthful and, might I say, feisty, knitter.”
“Your groupseems very feisty—if I may say.”
He laughs. “You just caught us at a bad moment. I’m mostly along for the ride to spend time with my son. He’s not the one who mouthed off to you, by the way.”
“Thanks for clarifying,” she says. She reflexively glances at his left ring finger. Bare. These days, that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. And really, his marital status is irrelevant. She’s not looking. “Well, I hope you’re having better luck spending time with your son than I am with my daughter.”
Aidan looks pointedly at the empty seat next to him on the other side. “Apparently, I’m not. How old’s your daughter?”
“She just turned twenty-three. How ’bout your son?”
“Twenty-four.”
She has the impulse to make a little toast, to say somethinglike,Well, here’s to getting ditched by our kids. But she’s afraid it will come off wrong, like a flirtation. So she says nothing, and neither does he, and they fall back into a silence as if they’d never started talking in the first place.
“Well,” he finally says, “hopefully things will improve by the end of the night.”
“Bachelor party out on the town?” she says.
“More like bachelor party in the woods.”
The woods? “Oh. Right.” She remembers the banner draped across the entrance. “Bushcraft. So basically you’re doing overnight camp for adults.”
“Overnight camp?” Aidan says. “I think you’re underestimating the challenge. It’s a lot harder than knitting, I can tell you that.”
“Oh, really? I think you’re the one underestimating the challenge.” She frowns, mildly insulted.
“No offense. My point is that bushcraft is hard.”
“Like what? What are you guys doing tomorrow that’s so hard?”
Aidan consults his phone. “Okay, tomorrow we’re trout fishing in the morning. Afternoon, we’re foraging for campfire materials. Then we have an axe-throwing competition.”
“None of those things are any more difficult than knitting a blanket. In fact, I’d say they’re easier.”
He laughs. “Every one of those things takes physical exertion and exposure to the elements. They onlysoundsimple.”
“You’d be a lot more ‘exposed to the elements’ without theknittedsweater you’re wearing,” she says.
