Chapter Eighteen

Finn threw the broken board into the corner scrap pile. Another day wasted. He raised his eyes to the beams above him in an effort to keep his cool. Releasing a deep sigh, he brushed the sawdust from his hands and retrieved his beer from the workbench. It’d long grown warm but he downed it anyway, hoping it would help him to forget. He’d thrown himself into his work after Maggie left. Unsurprisingly, he’d accomplished very little, but he’d hoped working would occupy his thoughts. It did nothing to stanch the ache in his chest. Sleep eluded him, so he’d taken to losing himself in the wood and a few drinks.

So often, he’d almost pushed the call button. He had to talk himself down every time. He couldn’t be a distraction. Maggie needed to focus on achieving her dream. He splashed his face with water from the mop sink and picked a new plank from the pile, starting over.

As he ran the board through the planer, the barn door to the shop opened, showering every corner with light. He squinted against the sudden change and cut the power to the machine.

“Jesus, Finn,” said Tess, as she walked farther into the workshop. “How long have you been in here and… What is that smell?” She surveyed the room and then him, eyeing him up and down several times. “When is the last time you took a shower? Or shaved? You could put Viking braids in that thing.” She pointed to the full beard he hadn’t bothered to touch in…he didn’t know how long.

“I don’t know, Tess. What does it matter?” He set his board against the hull of the boat he’d been framing.

She eyed him with sympathetic eyes.

There was the poor Finn again. He didn’t need her coddling. The whole reason he was staying at the shop was because he’d had enough of it from everyone. “What do you want?”

She adjusted her weight to one hip and crossed her arms. “It’s been a month, Finn. You’ve been wallowing by yourself in here for a month.”

“So?”

“Look, I’m not going to treat you like some wounded animal like Nana and Dad are.” She hesitated for a moment. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“No.” His exasperation with his sister hit an all-time high. “There’s nothing to talk about. I told her to go home, she left, end of story.”

Tess grabbed the wooden stool in the corner and planted herself on it. “But it doesn’t have to be. Have you called her? What would she think, seeing you in here? You’re miserable. You can’t even sketch well, and that’s serious.” She nodded toward his sketches, stained and crumpled, on the workbench next to where she was sitting.

His sister was right about one thing. He no longer found comfort in his work. He didn’t question his decision to let Maggie go—it was the right thing to do. If he hadn’t told her to go, would she be at the lake house right now…with him? Quietly suffering?

“The way I see it, you have three options here, and you need to pick one. Now. I hate seeing you like this. She may have been here based on a lie, but you were happy. Probably the happiest I’ve ever seen you.”

“I’m fine.” He crossed the workshop to the mini-fridge next to the office and grabbed a fresh beer. He unscrewed the cap and flicked it into the trash, then took a long gulp.

“This is not you. Look at you! You’re a mess!” Tess rose from her seat and grabbed the bottle from his hand. “Do you think Maggie would want you behaving like this?”

“Don’t!” he growled back.

She slapped his shoulder. “Don’t you growl at me, brother. I’m the only one in the family who’s going to be straight with you. You want the poor me act? You’re not gonna get it from me. So here it is. One, you continue on this self-destructive path you’re on, which doesn’t do anyone any good. Two, you suck it up, buttercup. Go over to the lawyer’s office, sign the documents, and move the hell on. Three, which is my favorite choice”—she pointed her finger in his face—“you get your ass in the shower, and then you get your ass on a plane and go get your wife.”

“It’s not that easy.”

She clucked her tongue. “Yes, it is.”

“What? I’m just supposed to stop everything, leave you and Colin here, forget the shop, and just…go?”

“Well, yeah.”

He rolled his eyes. Like that could ever happen.

“The world will keep turning if you’re not here, Finn. I love you, but I won’t let you use me as your scapegoat. Colin and I will be just fine. What good is this shop going to do you if you can’t even stand to look at it? How many more years is that boat with her name on it going to sit unfinished? Let me ask you this. Do you love her?”

He bit his bottom lip, running his fingers through his tangled hair. “Yeah.”

“Then that’s all that matters. You’re either going to live with her, or live without her. The choice is yours.” She pulled her keys from her pocket. “Come on. Let me drive you home.”

They didn’t speak during the drive from the shop to his house. His thoughts were full of words. He replayed Tess’s lecture, trying to make some sense out of everything. When they pulled up the drive, he slunk from the truck, muttering his thanks for bringing him home.

“Get some sleep,” she told him through the driver’s-side window. She shifted the truck into reverse. “And take a shower!” she called out, backing up.

Finn waved her off and dragged himself up the stairs to the front door. He pushed his key in, took a deep breath, then entered. Everything Maggie punched him in the face.

…

Finn woke not knowing what day it was. He stood in the shower trying to clear his mind until he ran out of hot water. As soon as the cold touched him, he told himself he needed to make a decision. And he did.

After changing into some fresh clothes, he grabbed his keys and headed into town. The harbor was tossing boats left and right as he drove by—a storm was brewing. He could feel it. How the air tingled the back of his neck and sparked at his fingertips when he touched his skin. The same as when Maggie touched him. He pulled his Jeep into an empty spot outside of the lawyer’s office, hoping she was in. He ran his fingers through his hair, took a breath, and stepped outside into the hazy mist.

The receptionist, surprised to see him burst through the door, set her coffee down on the desk and wiped her mouth with a tissue. “Good morning,” she smiled, eyes wide. “How can I help you?”

“I have divorce papers I need to sign with Ms. Richards. Is she available?”

“Let me go back and check. What is your name, sir?”

“Finnegan Garrity.”

“Give me just a moment.” The receptionist scooted out from behind her desk and disappeared behind a door with frosted glass.

He paced the lobby while he waited the longest wait of his life. The overwhelming urge to hurl twisted in his stomach, so he braced himself against the wall. He could make it back out the door in five steps.

“Mr. Garrity, good morning.” Anna stepped out from behind the frosted door. “I have the documents drawn up if you’d like to go ahead and sign them.” She motioned toward her office.

He followed her through the door while Anna spouted words and sentences he couldn’t hear. She flipped pages before him, pointing to tiny lines marked with color-coded tabs, and he chuckled, thinking of how she and Maggie would get along well with their organizational skills. A pen was thrust into his hand.

“Mr. Garrity?”

“Hmm?” He looked up at expectant eyes.

“Sign here.”

He pressed the tip of the pen against the crisp white paper. But no matter how hard he willed his hand to move, it wouldn’t. He flipped through the papers, one by one, paying particular attention to each colored tab.

Maggie had never signed the papers.

Not a single one.

Fate was a funny thing.

He set the pen down on the desk. “Ms. Richards, thank you for your time.”

“Mr. Garrity, is everything all right?”

“I have to go.”

It was raining when he slid into his Jeep. He wiped the drops from his forehead and grabbed his cell from the cup holder. He dialed Tess. Straight to voicemail. He pounded out a text.

CALL ME.

He’d hashed this out in his brain a thousand times. He’d weighed the pros and cons. He’d resolved to go with the hand he’d been dealt and sign the papers. Whether or not this was some sign from the cosmos or something having to do with fate, he was running with it.

His cell rang halfway through his drive home. “Tess,” he answered.

“Yeah?” her voice echoed through his sound system.

“I’m still married.”

“What?”

“I went to the lawyer’s office to sign the papers, but she never signed them. We’re still married.”

“Sooo… Did you sign them?”

“Nope.”

“So…”

“Question for ya.”

“Okay.”

“How quickly can we find me a tux?”

“Have you finally cracked? Do I need to call someone?”

He laughed. “Nah, I just think fate is trying to tell me something. You’re good with all that internet stuff. Can you do me a favor and see if you can find this gala Maggie was putting on in Los Angeles? It’s a fundraiser for a kids’ cancer wing. Look for Margaret Kelley. I’m sure there’s probably something in the press about it. There’re supposed to be a lot of famous people going. I’m not sure where, but I’m sure you could figure—”

“Got it,” she interrupted. “It’s in two days.”

“And it’s hers?”

“Yeah. I’m pretty sure. Her picture’s on the website. Wow. Is she like, famous or something? This sponsor list is unbelievable. Royce Theater. Looks expensive.”

“Focus, Tess.” He pulled into his driveway. “I need to get there.”

“Right. It looks like it’s by invite only, and one of those ‘buy a plate’ type deals. Are you going to Mission: Impossible your way in?”

“I’ll figure it out when I get there.”

“Why are you going to dive-bomb her at the gala?”

“Because I know she’ll be there. Any ideas?”

“Well, Jimmy over at Hitched owes me one. He mostly does wedding dresses now, but I can call him and see what he’s got hanging out in the back. I’m sure there’s got to be something in there you could wear.”

He pulled the Jeep to a stop in front of the house. “Yes. Do that. I’m home now. I need to buy a plane ticket. Call me when you get something. Thanks, Tess.”

“Have you showered yet?”

“Bye, Tess.” He spilled from the Jeep in his rush to get inside the house. He took the stairs two at a time, fumbled with the lock, then kicked his boots off on his way down to the kitchen. He searched flights on his phone while pacing the floor with a million thoughts racing through his mind. He found one that would get him to Los Angeles the afternoon of the gala, which was plenty of time. Plenty of time to pack, find a tux, get a haircut and a shave, and ask his dad if he could give Maggie his mom’s ring. If fate was trying to tell him something, he was going to listen. There had to be a good reason that the papers were never signed. Did Maggie just…forget? On purpose? Just not remember?

If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. All in. Double or nothing.

…

Finn checked his watch for the time again, even though he’d done it just thirty seconds before. His Uber was late. He exhaled and tugged at the tight collar restricting his neck. This was happening. He’d come to terms on some big decisions while on the flight. He touched the small box in the inside pocket of his suit coat, making sure it was still snug and secure.

His flight had landed at LAX right on time, and with no baggage to claim, his only priority was finding the Royce Theater and getting to Maggie. Every minute counted, and his driver was ten minutes behind and counting. The sheer volume of traffic buzzing by had him jumping in his skin. Taxis, buses, valets, and luggage everywhere. People running in every direction. Tearful goodbyes and cheerful hellos competing for curb time.

A small silver car pulled up, its lighted sign in the front window shining blue and bright. The passenger window shimmied down. “You Finn?”

He nodded.

“Sorry for being late, dude. Traffic has been insane today. I’m Jack.” The driver was a middle-aged, balding man grinning from ear to ear.

Finn opened the back door and slid across the seat and buckled in. His knees pressed against the front seat, crumpling him into some sort of fetal position almost as badly as the planes had—all three of them. He was honestly surprised his tux had made it semi wrinkle-free this long.

“Looking good, my friend. You going to that big shindig over at the Royce, huh?” The driver made conversation as he pulled away from Arrivals toward the airport exit.

“Yeah.”

“You performing or something? You look the band type.”

That made Finn chuckle. He leaned against the window to stare at the lights whizzing by. “No, no. Going to see about a girl.”

“A girl, huh? Where you from?”

“Maine.”

“She must be some girl.”

He met Jack’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “You ever made a stupid, stupid mistake and realized it too late, Jack?”

“I let a girl get away once. Biggest regret of my life. She went on and married some actor, had a couple kids, and now I get to see her on his arm whenever he’s on TV. And here I am, single, alone, driving people around all day and night, lonely, and no girl to keep me warm at night.” He sighed. “I wish you the best of luck, my friend,” Jack said, pulling up to a towering building with a sweeping stone staircase out front. “We’re here.”

“Thanks.” Finn opened the car door and slid toward the sidewalk.

“Go get your girl!” Jack shouted back with a send-off wave. “Don’t forget to rate five stars!”

Finn bounded up the stairs two at a time. Several people dressed to impress straddled the stairs, chatting and smoking, paying him no attention.

“Excuse me, sir,” said a raspy, very British voice as Finn reached for the door. Standing beside him was an older man with graying hair, dressed in full uniform, white gloves, and shiny black shoes. So shiny Finn could see his reflection in them as if he were staring in a mirror. Small in stature, but he puffed his chest with assertion anyway. The doorman stepped in between Finn and the door, eyeing him. “May I help you, sir?”

“I, uhh,” he pointed toward the door. “I need to speak to someone in there.”

“Do you have an invitation?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure she’d let me in.”

The doorman cleared his throat while smoothing the front of his uniform. “This is an invitation-only event, sir.” The man seemed offended just by looking at him.

He could easily rush by the old man, make a scene, and most likely not be stopped, but he didn’t want to push his luck. He sighed. “Have you ever—what’s your name?”

“Alfred, sir.”

“Of course, it is,” he muttered. “Alfred, there’s this girl inside, and I need to tell her how crazy I am about her. I came all the way out here just to tell her. The grand gesture, you know? Could you at least get a message to her? Let her know I’m out here and there’s something very important I need to tell her?”

Alfred squinted and his mouth pressed into a frown. “How do I know you won’t go inside while I go get this mystery woman?”

Because that’s exactly what he was going to do. “Look, please just go get her. Her name is Margaret Kelley. Tell her Finn is here. I promise I will stand right in this exact spot and wait.”

A couple scaled the stairs and passed a piece of paper to Alfred. He glanced at it, passed it back, and opened the door, motioning them through. “Enjoy your evening.” He nodded. “Not you,” he told Finn. Alfred looked about, then motioned Finn toward him. “You. Come here,” he whispered.

Finn took a step next to him.

“Miss Maggie, you say?”

“Yes,” he replied, a bit hesitant.

“Go and find your lady. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled you’ve come all this way to see her, Mr. Finnegan Garrity.” The purposeful punctation of his name was like a little needle stabbing him repeatedly in the eye.

Finn’s stomach twisted and his heart beat fast in his throat. “How? Oh, you bastard.” This whole time. This whole time, by the doorman. Well played, Batman’s butler. Well played.

Alfred cleared his throat and opened the theater door.