True to her word, Maybelle loaded up her last suitcase into the trunk of Will’s car, giving the mansion one last look before they drove off and left the chilly north for sunny south.
Last night had been exactly what she’d been looking for, and she thanked Cupid for it. Garreth and her had danced in their pajamas, talked about life and love and loss, and they’d ended on a good note. If last night was all they’d have, she thought she would be okay with that. They’d both agreed that a week wasn’t enough time at all to get to know someone after all.
Michael had been mysteriously absent this morning, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. The attention he gave her was flattering, made her feel worth more than she was, but she realized that she didn’t need someone to make her feel that way to be happy. It was nice, but she could find that happiness herself, she was sure of it. And she planned on finding more ways to find that joy without it revolving around things out of her control, like relationships with men.
A car door slammed to her right, and her heart picked up pace as Garreth made his way toward her. Her mouth formed an uncontrollable smile, and she playfully swayed her hips as she walked toward him, meeting him in the middle.
“Hey there,” he said, his attempt at her accent nearly spot on.
“Hey there.”
“How long a drive do you have in front of you?”
“Too long,” she admitted with a laugh. “You?”
“Not long enough. I like long drives. Gives me time to think, process…” He frowned, but she liked that he was near the mansion. Maybe there was a chance of meeting up if and when she came back to style for Winter.
She glanced to the massive mansion doors, Winter perched on the bottom step, Will awkwardly running his hands up and down his thighs as he made his way to her. He’d better ask for her number.
Oh, that reminded her. “So, do you—”
“So, I wanted—”
They both stopped their overlapping sentences and laughed. Maybelle waved him to go ahead.
“I… Well, I wanted to thank you,” he said, his hand reaching for his elbow, scratching away. “I was dreading this week, but with you, it was fun.”
She snorted. “Minus the part when you caught me with—”
“Yeah.” His cheeks ran red, but then he shakily chuckled away his embarrassment. “Let’s just forget about that.”
She frowned. She didn’t want to forget; she wanted to apologize, but the look on his face told her that bringing it up anymore would taint their goodbye, so she held her tongue.
Garreth took a deep breath, his broad shoulders lifting and reminding her of how they felt under her palms while they danced in the dark hallway of the fifth floor. She imagined she’d revisit that night a million times over.
The corner of his mouth pulled up and he took a step toward her, his arms spread. She jumped right into them, hugging him tightly, memorizing his freshly showered smell, tumbling her fingers over the soft cotton of his shirt, and counting the beats of his heart, ingraining it into her brain.
He held on for much longer than was socially acceptable for only friends, one hand curling around her shoulder, the other holding the small of her back, pressing it so their belly buttons aligned. Butterflies soared through her, but there was dread in their wake, of not knowing when she’d see him again—if she’d see him again.
At the first sign of tears prickling, she pulled away, shoving them down as she smiled up into his beautiful face. She’d thought him handsome from day one, but getting to know that kind soul behind the deep chocolate eyes had made him so much more attractive, and she wondered for the thousandth time why he’d felt second best, when there was no way he could’ve been.
“Well…” he said, scratching at a most likely non-existent itch again.
“Well…” she echoed. How did she part with him? Tell him to keep in touch? Oh, she hadn’t gotten his number. She quickly patted her dress in search of her phone.
He gave her a grin and sighed. “Have a good life, Maybelle.”
She stopped her search and blinked at him. He was doing his classic pinch of the eyes and shake of the head, and she hoped he’d backtrack and not leave her with such a hard goodbye. But he only turned on his heel and sped walked to his car, mumbling something under his breath. Maybelle stared, hand still poised near her bosom where she kept her phone when her dresses came sans pockets. There was still time to get his number, try to stretch out their interactions beyond this magical week, but doubt rooted her to the cement.
He’d told her he wasn’t going to compete for her heart, and maybe he’d let her go already. Last night had been a dance between friends, and her heart crumbled like grated cheese on one of her brother’s famous pizzas. She’d let it happen again. She’d fallen for someone indifferent to her. The only difference this go around was Garreth hadn’t been indifferent at first—only after she’d messed it up.
She sniffed back an onslaught of tears, clenching her jaw and swinging the car door open. Will was still talking to Winter, and she wasn’t going to bug him in the middle of his goodbyes, but she was ready to get out of there. She’d allow herself the drive home to go through the five stages of grief, but then she was going to get over it. She was going to find ways to live life without constantly searching for a man.
Her rear hit the seat harder than she intended, sending a sharp pain up her spine as she slammed the door shut. She crossed her arms, huffing and puffing, trying hard not to cry. “Have a good life…” she muttered. After all that, she was still just another friend in a slew of forgetful friendships.
She looked over to the mansion, Will still saying his goodbyes. With the way Winter looked at him, and the one-eighty mood he’d pulled this week, Maybelle had no doubts that he’d found his match. She’d probably be happier about it if she wasn’t having a moment. She’d tease him about it later.
A flash of movement behind Winter tore her eyes away from her brother and to the tall, dark, and handsome man who’d finally appeared. Michael descended the stairs slowly, his eyes searching, his hands finding his pockets.
There was a man who had no issues telling a person how he felt. There was a man who’d found happiness without a partner—independent, passionate, fun… and he’d made it no secret that he liked her.
She tilted her head, mind reeling, confusion pulsing through her heart. If Eros existed in the walls of Frostville, he certainly had a favorite choice for her, but there was something missing between them—something she wasn’t sure she’d made up in her head because of Garreth.
His eyes caught hers, and a slow smile spread across his face. He stopped in his tracks, ducking a bit to see her face fully. His hand slipped from his pocket and waved. Maybelle searched deep in her soul, trying hard to erase the possibility of Garreth from her mind. Garreth wasn’t a possibility; he’d made that very clear.
The sound of the driver door jolted her from Michael’s stare, and she composed herself as Will buckled in.
“You ready?” he asked, his voice thicker than normal. She imagined he wanted to get out of there before he started crying—something she’d only seen him do once in his adult life.
Her eyes darted past her brother and to Michael once more, and she offered him up a returning wave.
“Yeah,” she said, pulling her seatbelt over her. “I’m ready.”