Maybe Someday

He lays his palms flat on the counter in front of him and leans forward. “You suck.”



I laugh. “That’s it? That’s what you needed to lay out for me?”



He nods. “You suck. So does Ridge. Since the night I gave him your address, you’ve both sucked. All he does is work or write music. He doesn’t even play pranks on me anymore. Every time I’m over here, you’re just focused on studying. You never want to go out. You never want to hear my sex stories anymore.”



“Correction,” I say, interrupting him. “I’ve never wanted to hear your sex stories. That’s nothing new.”



“Whatever,” he says, shaking his head. “My point is that the two of you are miserable. I know you need time and blah, blah, blah, but that doesn’t mean you have to give up fun while you’re figuring your life out. I want to go have fun. No one wants to have fun with me anymore, and that’s all your fault, because you’re the only one who can put a stop to the misery you and Ridge are going through. So, yes. You suck. You suck, you suck, you suck, And if you want to stop sucking so much, then go get dressed so we can go out and not suck together for just a few hours.”



I don’t know how to argue with that. I do suck. I suck, I suck, I suck. Only Warren could put it in such a simple, straightforward way that would actually make sense. I know I’ve been miserable the past few months, and it doesn’t help to know that Ridge has been miserable, too. He’s miserable because he’s sitting around waiting for me to get over whatever it is that’s keeping me from contacting him.



The last thing he said in his letter to me was Just say when.



I’ve been trying to say when since the moment I read that letter, but I’m just too scared. I’ve never felt about anyone or anything the way I feel about him, and the thought of us not working out is enough to keep me from saying that one little word. I feel as if the longer we wait and the more time we have to heal, the better chance we’ll have at our maybe someday.



I keep waiting for the moment when I know for sure that he’s moved on from Maggie. I keep waiting for the moment when I know for sure that he’s ready to commit fully to me. I keep waiting for the moment when I know for sure that I’m not going to be consumed with guilt for allowing myself to trust someone with my heart again.



I don’t know when I’ll get to that point, and it hurts to know that my inability to move forward is holding Ridge back.



“Now,” Warren says, shoving me out of the kitchen. “Get dressed.”



• • •



I can’t believe I’ve let him talk me into this. I check my makeup one last time and grab my purse. As soon as he sees me, he shakes his head. I huff and throw my hands in the air.



“What now?” I sigh. “I’m not dressed appropriately?”



“You look great, but I want you to wear the blue dress.”



“I burned that dress, remember?” I say.



“The hell you did,” he says, pushing me back toward my bedroom. “You were wearing it last week when I stopped by. Go put it on so we can leave.”



I spin around to face him. “I know how much you like that dress, and wearing it tonight while I’m out with you is a little too creepy, Warren.”



He narrows his eyes. “Listen, Syd. I don’t mean to be rude, but all this moping around for the past few months has caused you to put on a little weight. Your ass looks huge in those jeans. The blue dress may be able to hide a little of that, so go put it on, or I might be too embarrassed to go out with you.”



I suddenly feel like slapping him again, but I know he’s just got a peculiar sense of humor. I also know he might have a completely different reason for why he wants me to wear this dress and I’m trying not to let myself think it has anything to do with Ridge, but pretty much every situation I’m in somehow makes me think about Ridge. It’s nothing new. But Warren is a guy who seems to put his foot in his mouth a lot, and I’m a girl, so I still wonder if his sarcastic remark has any truth to it. I have been replacing the void Ridge left in my life with food. I look down at my stomach and pat it, then look back up at Warren. “You’re an asshole.”



He nods. “I know.”



The innocent smile on his face makes me instantly forgive any crudeness behind his joke. I change into the blue dress, but I am so cock-blocking him tonight. Jerk.



• • •



“Wow. This is . . . different,” I say, taking in my surroundings. It’s nothing like the clubs Warren usually likes to go to. This one is a lot smaller, without even much of a dance floor. There’s an empty stage along one wall, but there’s no one performing tonight. The jukebox is playing, and several people are scattered around at tables, talking quietly among themselves. Warren chooses a table toward the middle of the room.



“You’re a cheap date,” I say. “You didn’t even feed me.”



He laughs. “I’ll buy you a burger on the way home.”



Warren pulls out his phone and begins texting someone, so I look around for a while. It’s kind of cozy. It’s also kind of weird that Warren brought me here. But I’m thinking he doesn’t have any evil intentions, because he’s not even paying attention to me.



His attention is on his phone, and he keeps glancing at the door. I don’t understand why he wanted to come out tonight, and I especially don’t understand why he chose this place.



“You’re actually the one who sucks,” I say. “Stop ignoring me.”



He responds without even looking up at me. “You aren’t talking, so technically, I’m not ignoring you.”



I’m curious now. He’s not being himself, the way he’s so distracted. “What’s up with you, Warren?”



As soon as I ask the question, he looks up from his phone and smiles over my shoulder, then stands. “You’re late,” he says to someone behind me. I look to see Bridgette walking toward us.



“Screw you, Warren,” she says to him with a small smile. He wraps his arms around her, and they kiss for several uncomfortable seconds. I reach up and tap him on the arm when I’m convinced that neither of them can breathe. He pulls away from Bridgette, winks at her, and slides out his chair for her.



“I have to go to the bathroom,” he says to Bridgette. He points at me. “Don’t go anywhere.”



He says it as if it’s a command, and it irritates me even more because he’s being really rude tonight. I turn and face Bridgette once he’s left the table. “Warren said you were working all weekend,” I say.



She shrugs. “Yeah, well, he probably told you that because of the elaborate scheme he has planned for tonight. He made me come so you wouldn’t leave when you found out about it. Oh, and I’m not supposed to tell you any of that, so if he comes back, play dumb.”



My heart rate escalates. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”



She shakes her head and raises her arm in the air, calling over a waiter. “I wish I was kidding. I had to switch shifts to be here, and now I have to work a double tomorrow.”



I drop my head into my hands, regretting the fact that I let Warren talk me into anything. Just when I’m reaching for my purse to leave, he walks out onto the empty stage.



“Oh, God,” I groan. “What the hell is he doing?” My stomach is in knots. I have no idea what he has planned, but whatever it is, it can’t be good.



He taps on the microphone, then adjusts the height of it. “I’d like to thank everyone for coming tonight. Not that any of you are here for this particular event, since it’s a surprise, but I feel the need to thank you anyway.”



He adjusts the microphone once more, then finds our table in the crowd and waves. “I want to apologize to you, Syd, because I feel really bad for lying to you. You haven’t gained weight, and your ass looked great in those jeans, but you really needed to wear that dress tonight. Also, you don’t suck. I lied about that, too.”



Several people in the crowd laugh, but I just groan and bury my face in my hands, peeking through my fingers at him up on the stage.



“All right, let’s get on with it, shall we? We have a few new songs for you tonight. Unfortunately, the whole band couldn’t be here, because”—he looks to his left at the small width of the stage, then to his right—“well, I don’t think they all could have fit. So I’d like to present to you a small portion of the band Sounds of Cedar.”



My heart falls to the floor. I close my eyes when the crowd begins to clap.



Please, let it be Ridge.



Please, don’t let it be Ridge.



Jesus, when will this confusion go away?



I can hear commotion up on the stage, and I’m too scared to open my eyes. I want to see him sitting up there so much it hurts.



“Hey, Syd,” Warren says into the microphone. I inhale a slow, calming breath, then open my eyes and hesitantly look up at him. “Remember a few months ago when I told you sometimes we have to have really bad days in order to keep the good ones in perspective?”



I think I nod. I can’t really feel my body anymore.



“Well, this is one of the good days. This is one of the really good days.” He raises his hand in the air and motions to my table. “Somebody get that girl a shot of whatever will help loosen her up.”



He moves the microphone to the stool next to him, and my eyes are glued to the empty chairs. Someone lays a shot on the table in front of me, and I instantly grab it and down it. I drop the shot glass back onto the table and look up just in time to see them walk onto the stage. Brennan is first, and Ridge is right behind him, carrying a guitar.



Oh, my God. He looks incredible. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen him on a stage. I’ve been wanting to watch him perform since the first moment I heard his guitar on my balcony and here I am, about to watch my fantasy become reality.



He looks the same as he did the last time I saw him, just . . . incredible. I guess he looked incredible back then, too. I just didn’t feel right allowing myself to admit it when I knew he wasn’t mine. I must feel okay about it now, because holy crap. He’s beautiful. He carries himself with such confidence and I can definitely see why. His arms look as if they were built for the sole purpose of carrying a guitar. It molds to him so naturally, it’s as if it’s an extension of him. There isn’t a shadow of guilt clouding his eyes like there always was in the past. He’s smiling, like he’s excited for what’s about to happen. His enigmatic smile lights up his face and his face lights up the entire room. At least it seems that way to me. He glances over the audience several times as he makes his way toward his seat, but he doesn’t immediately spot me.



He takes a seat on the center stool, and Brennan sits to the left of him, Warren to his right. He signs to Warren, and Warren points at me. Ridge looks out into the audience and finds me. My hands are clamped over my mouth, and my elbows are propped up on the table. He smiles and gives me a nod and my heart crashes to the floor.. I can’t smile or wave or nod back at him. I’m too nervous to move.