So I sat up and pulled out Maggie’s scrap book, taking longer to go through the pages this time. Lingering over each and every picture. Making myself remember when I had drawn them and why. Forcing the memories that both tortured and thrilled me.

There were dozens of drawings depicting Maggie’s face. I had never been able to get enough of drawing her. She was, and still is, my favorite subject. My eyes followed the slope of her jaw line, the small divot in her chin. The tiny freckle above her lip that I remembered touching with my tongue. Her hair, thick and heavy in my hands as I moved it away from her neck so that I could kiss the sensitive spot at the nape that would always make her shiver.

I looked up at the clock on the wall and without allowing any time to talk myself out of the crazy idea that had just popped into my head; I got to my feet and headed out into the hallway.

I headed toward Jacqui’s office again and knocked softly. “Come in,” I heard her say on the other side. I opened the door and walked in. She looked up at me in surprise. “Clay, didn’t I just see you?” she joked.

I gave her a tight smile, gearing myself up for the lie I was about to tell. “I wanted to know if I could call Lisa, Ruby’s partner. She wasn’t able to make it down and I wanted to thank her for my gifts,” I said, proud and a little disappointed with how easily dishonesty still tripped off my tongue. But phone calls were limited to immediate family members and those deemed “integral members” of my support system. So the lie was necessary.

Jacqui smiled. “Of course. Do you have your calling card?” she asked me. I pulled the small paper card out of my pocket and held it up. “Well, come have a seat. I’ll give you some privacy,” Jacqui said kindly, getting up to leave her office.

“Thanks,” I told her, reaching for the phone. Once I was alone and the office door closed behind Jacqui, I took a deep breath and quickly dialed the number burned into my brain. It started to ring and I had to stop myself from hyperventilating. Shit, I was really doing this. Why the f**k was I doing this? Maybe I should hang up.

Me and my dumb spontaneity. Hadn’t I learned that it wasn’t always smart to jump in the water with all my clothes on? To hang up or to not hang up, that really was the question. And how long was I going to sit here and debate with myself about it?

Yeah, I should just hang up. Doing this now, after such a long time would only serve to dredge up a mountain of shit. My finger twitched and hovered over the end button. And then it was too late.

Because I heard her voice and there was no longer a decision to be made. She still had me firmly by the balls. There was no way I could hang up. Not now.

“Hello?” Maggie’s voice was breathy, as though she had to rush to get to her phone. I didn’t say anything, rendered mute, goosebumps breaking out over my skin. God, this was a mistake. What the hell was I thinking?

“Hello?” she said again and I knew she was about to hang up. And the thought of her ending the phone call put me into a near panic.

“Hey,” I said quietly. I could hear her quick intake of breath and then utter quiet. The phone buzzed in the silence as I waited for her to say something. Anything.

“Clay,” Maggie finally said. She didn’t say my name as a question but as a statement. And I noticed that her tone wasn’t a happy one. Not the reception I’d hoped to have, but not unexpected.

“I just wanted to call and say…thank you. You know, for my gift. I loved it.” I couldn’t get my voice above the barest whisper. As if by speaking too loudly, it would shatter whatever this was.

Again Maggie was quiet for a while and I wasn’t sure she was still there. But finally, after a few minutes she said, “No problem. Glad you liked it.” I wasn’t deaf to the bitterness in her words. I hated it. I loathed the fact that it was directed at me.

I cleared my throat uncomfortably when it became obvious she wasn’t going to say anything else. “Um…well…how have you been?” I asked lamely. Christ, had I really asked that? Why didn’t I just ask her about the weather? Because irrelevant conversation seemed all I was capable of.

Maggie’s sharp bark of laughter let me know that she too thought my question of choice was a total joke. “How have I been? Before or after your Dear John letter? Oh, I’ve been just peachy, I’m so glad you asked.” Her sarcasm was laced with a very obvious anger. Not that I didn’t deserve it, but damn, it sucked.

“About that letter…” I don’t know what I was about to say. Maybe try to explain that I never had any plans to let her go. That I loved her just as much, if not more than I ever had. That there wasn’t a second of the day that went by that I didn’t think about her. But I never got the chance.

Maybe I should tell her it was a lie. That I didn’t want her to move on. That the thought of her with another guy made me physically ill. That the dozens of faceless jerks I envisioned her with each died a very painful death in my head.

Because that would go a long way in proving my improved mental health.

“Save it, Clay. I don’t want to hear whatever it is you feel the need to say. You have no idea how I’ve wanted to hear your voice. But now…I just can’t.” The anger was gone and now she just sounded sad and I hated that even more. I couldn’t fix this. There was no way in hell Maggie would ever give me the chance to. I had messed up too badly.

It’s what I had feared. The scenario that kept me awake at night. That even after I was able to get my life together, I wouldn’t have her to share it with. And here it was, smacking me in the face. It was the nastiest reality check I had ever had.