Chapter Nineteen

Maggie fiddled with the loose bobby pin behind her ear. Peering down at the ballroom below her from the balcony of the Royce Theater, she noted that the event appeared to be going well. Only an hour into her gala, and she’d received many overwhelming compliments on the decor, her use of space, and the overall aura of the room, which calmed her nerves. Sort of. A year ago, snagging a Saturday evening at the Royce had been an impossible feat, but she’d overcome it with her fierce determination and inability to take no for an answer. Here she was, seeing it all come to fruition. The Royce was the pinnacle of Hollywood stardom in the fifties, and the old-glamour elegance still resonated throughout its halls. Its heyday had seen the likes of stars such as Grace Kelly and Marilyn Monroe. Such elegance once twirled in the very ballroom she watched over. And now, old millionaires put on a show for their friends. Who had the most money and means. Who could write the fattest check. The fakest of the fake.

Maggie didn’t care. As long as it paid for a good deed in the end, and pushed her farther toward what she set out to accomplish, that’s what really mattered. Not the fancy cars or the one-of-a-kind dresses these women would never wear again. No, it was the people they would unknowingly help. The kids smiling through rounds of chemo. They mattered.

The catering waitstaff wandered the room below like little lost penguins in a sea of sparkles jetting back and forth on wave upon wave of silken fabrics. Glasses of champagne balanced on small trays covered with starched white linens. The orchestra played “The Blue Danube” in the corner of the ballroom, and it was perfect. Her gala was perfection. She’d done it. From start to almost-finish, she’d put together one of the season’s most extravagant affairs. She’d even been interviewed by the senior editor for the Los Angeles Business Tribune. Full-on article with pictures. Seeing the write-up had been the single best thing that had happened since she had returned home. She’d put together her masterpiece on her own.

And she wished she had someone to share her excitement with.

This whole living-your-best-life thing wasn’t all she’d hoped it would be. It’d been nearly a month since she’d left Rockport.

She had dived headfirst into her work, just as Finn had asked her to. She’d also moved out of her shared apartment with Winston the moment she’d arrived back in California. Thankfully, he’d already taken the initiative to have her things packed and waiting for her. Such a big help. It wasn’t the new girlfriend who greeted her in the foyer, no. Not at all.

Maggie rolled her eyes. She was better off alone in her single-bedroom apartment. It was cozy, filled with plants she had managed to keep alive so far, and she’d even contemplated adopting a lap cat. At least, that’s what she told herself at night when there wasn’t any more work to be done and the only ones calling were Netflix and the pint of Chunky Monkey in the freezer. But even so, she still stood by her decision to leave that part of her life behind her. There was always a never-ending stream of events she could take on to keep her busy. Her so-called friends couldn’t be bothered with her now that she and Winston weren’t a thing. But it was okay.

She would be okay.

Everything would work out, and she needed to believe that.

Maggie smoothed the front of her gown. The sleek black fabric felt cool against her palm. She should really join her guests, but hiding out by the coat check with a glass of champagne was much more appealing. Her speech had gone over brilliantly, and the crowd had even given her a standing ovation. People had flooded her with excited compliments about her work and dedication. Smiled and clapped for her. Given her lots of money. She could be breaking ground sooner than she ever imagined.

She downed the rest of her glass and forced herself to rejoin the gala. People would start to ask where she was if she didn’t come out of hiding soon. She placed her glass on an empty tray and wandered to the back of the balcony for one more once-over of the ballroom floor below.

Dinner was finishing up, and the round tables were being cleared to allow for dancing and socializing. Everything was falling into place beautifully. Cara, her assistant, was in charge of the cleanup crew, and it was the best delegation of duties to date. Staff payments were scheduled for autopay in the morning, cleanup would be finished tonight, and she didn’t have to worry about a thing.

Until she saw him standing in the middle of the dance floor.

Sleek, fitted suit. Shiny black shoes. Bow tie folded just so. Both hands casually resting in the pockets of the snuggest pair of trousers she’d seen in a long time, accentuating every curve and line of his body. Every. Single. One.

Finnegan Garrity was in a freakin’ tuxedo.

In California.

Standing in the middle of her gala.

She braced herself on the railing.

The corner of his mouth twitched up into a half smile, and he sauntered forward. Cool, calm, collected.

Freakin’ hot.

Maggie stood, frozen. Her feet were glued to the floor. Her lungs screamed at her to take in a breath. Inhale. Exhale.

Should she go down there?

She should go down there. If only her feet would listen to her brain and move.

You got this. One foot in front of the other.

On shaky legs, Maggie made her way down the sweeping grand staircase to the ballroom.

He swaggered toward her. “Hey.”

“Hhhhiii…” she managed to squeak out as he got closer. And closer. And then his hand was on her lower back and she was spinning around the dance floor in his arms, and was this real life right now?

“You look positively radiant.”

“What are you doing here?” she asked. A warmth washed over her. It rooted deep in her chest, spreading to the tips of her fingers and up to her cheeks, yet her skin prickled under his touch.

“Am I not able to support my wife on her big night?” he mouthed in her ear, his breath hot on her skin.

“We’re not married anymore.” A sudden sadness consumed her at the thought of no longer being his wife, even for the short time they had spent together. A large chapter of her life was over. That book was closed, and they had both moved on.

Or had they? Perhaps not, as he was still twirling her around the dance floor. She was in his arms, and in that instant, she knew there was no place she’d rather be. “Why are you here? Oh God, did I miss court? I hadn’t heard back.”

“I needed to tell you something.”

“You crossed the country to tell me something? You couldn’t call?”

The music slowed and so did Finn, whose thumb lightly traced the deep V-cut of her dress along the base of her spine. He laughed lightly. “Well, it’s important. I figured I should probably tell you in person, and what better place than your gala?”

“And in a tux,” she added, smiling. “Your beard.” She lightly ran her fingers along the smooth, square lines of his jaw.

“It was time for a change.” He took in a deep breath and held it, as if he was holding something back. “You never signed the papers, Maggie.” He blew a breath out through pursed lips. His eyes flickered over hers, searching.

Her jaw slackened. “I…” Her thoughts scrambled to piece together her last few moments in Maine. She’d been so determined to get to the ­airport before she chickened out that she’d completely forgotten to stop at the lawyer’s office. Maggie’s weight shifted slightly, and she leaned in to him. “We’re— ”

“Still married,” he finished. Finn stilled, breaking his hold on Maggie. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket. “And I needed to give you this in person.” He pulled out a slightly crumpled picture and passed it to her. “It’s important that I do.”

Maggie took it, running her fingers over the faces smiling back at her. It was Emily from the cancer center, clutching the arm of her prom date. She wore a stunning sleeveless gown adorned with bits of silver sparkle—port and all—and the Louboutins Maggie had given her. On the back of the photo was simply written, “Emily, Senior Prom” in looping cursive. She pressed the picture to her chest. Tears welled, clinging to the corner of her eyes, threatening to fall in mass numbers. Maggie blinked furiously in an attempt to keep them at bay.

This one little thing—the picture she held in her hands—was that simple, and that complicated. It wasn’t the huge production or the name clout, just a little inconsequential trip to a treatment facility that changed everything. Changed her life.

It was the person. The story. The footprints left in the lives of others.

And it was all because of Finn. He’d taken the time to show her that no matter where she was, or who she was with, there was always an opportunity to help others. Even through something so small as giving someone a pair of shoes or a picture. Maggie looked up at Finn. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He took her in his arms once more, his hands gliding over her with the lightest of touches.

Maggie pressed her head against his chest, still clutching the picture. She breathed him in, the salty air from an ocean away still clinging to him, and she closed her eyes, etching every movement into her memory. She may have tried to forget him in the month since she’d left him in the early morning hours, but her body hadn’t, and it betrayed her. It ached for him, his hold on her only strengthening the need to be closer still. She licked her suddenly dry lips. “I know what I want, Finn.”

He kissed the top of her head. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I know that I have no idea what I want. I want to make it up as I go. I want a do-over.” She smiled up at him.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Do ya now?”

She nodded. “I may not know what I want to do with my life now that I’ve found out it’s been a complete sham spurred by my parents, but my heart tells me no matter what I choose to do, I want you to be there. No matter what I dream at night, what avenues I explore now… There’s been only one constant in them.” Maggie placed her palm against his cheek, and he leaned slightly into it when she rubbed her thumb along his jawline. “You. I want nights under the stars. Adventures. Getting lost in the middle of nowhere. Road trips. An ocean, and it doesn’t matter which one. I think you and I and the moon sounds about right.”

Finn ran his fingers through the hair curling at his nape, all handsome and ruggedly wonderful. Mischief inched across his pursed lips. “This was supposed to be my big grand gesture, and I kind of feel like you’re ruining it for me.”

“What?” Her brow furrowed. She closed in on him, standing just inches from him, then rose to her tippy-toes, searched the fire in his eyes, and told him bluntly, “I’m trying to be serious here. I want a do-over.” Maggie tucked the picture back into his pocket and wrapped her fingers around his palms, pulling him in even closer. She entwined her fingers between his. “Marry me, Finn. Again.”

“The first time didn’t do it for ya?”

“Shh,” she hushed him. “I’m proposing here.”

“I can see that.” As much as he tried to hide his smile, it formed, lighting up his face and her whole world. “So am I.” He dropped to one knee. He pulled the delicate blue box from his inside pocket. “Marry me.” His mouth twitched. “Again.” He opened the box, revealing the most stunning diamond-encrusted ring she’d ever seen. Oh, how it sparkled, just like when the sun kissed the peaks of the ocean waves.

“Oh my God.” Her hands flew to her mouth. “OhmyGodohmyGod.” She focused on the starburst of green circling his irises, then on the dusting of tiny freckles along the indents of his cheeks.

“Mags?” He shifted his weight. “Everyone is staring,” he whispered.

She hadn’t noticed when the music stopped, nor had she realized the crowd had parted to the edges of the room and Finn and she were the only two left on the dance floor.

He cleared his throat. “When you showed up at my door, being with you again, I thought—I thought maybe it was my second chance. And then when you were gone, I realized I couldn’t lose you again. I don’t care where we live. I just want to be where you are. I’ve put the shop up for sale. I’ll stay here with you in California, if that’s what it takes to be near you. Maggie, please say you’ll marry me.”

“But you love that shop!”

He took her hand in his. “I love you enough to let it go.”

She squeezed, pulling him upward to her lips. “And I love you enough not to let you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and clutched him close. Her tears soaked into the fabric of his coat.

Finn cupped her cheeks, his thumbs wiping her tears from her skin. “You are my ocean, and… I love you.”

“Say it again,” she whispered.

He narrowed his eyes. “The whole thing?”

“Just the ‘I love you’ part,” she laughed.

“I love you, Maggie.”

A shout from the balcony echoed throughout the room. “Hurry up and tell him yes already!” From the balcony, Cara threw her hands up in exaggerated frustration.

“Yes. Yes.” Maggie wiped the steady stream of tears from her cheeks, giggling. “You’ve ruined my makeup.”

He slipped the ring onto her finger. “It was my mom’s,” he told her. “And now it’s yours.” He swooped her into a dip and kissed her as the music picked up, surrounding them with their own personal soundtrack. In the fleeting moment, she wondered if the night was just a very vivid dream sequence incited by a movie left on while she slept. It couldn’t be real. Such perfection didn’t exist, she thought, until the strings started to hum their song.

God, it was real. The kiss was real, Finn was real, and it wasn’t just the champagne talking. “I love you,” she told him, the surety of her words calming her jitters. “But I want to do this right. No Elvis, just friends, family—”

“And cake.” Finn looked at her expectantly.

Maggie nodded. “Oh, there will be cake. Lots and lots of cake.” Hell yes, there would be cake. Cake in the bedroom, cake in the shop. Cake on the kitchen counter. Even cake in that death trap of a Jeep.

Finn brushed the hair back from her face. He brought his mouth to hers, stopping just short of a kiss. “Maggie Rose Garrity,” he whispered against her lips. “Is that a dare?”

A teasing smile curved her mouth into a devilish grin. “Oh, you have no idea.”