301. Chapter 301

No one makes her giggle.

Not anymore, anyway.

But Alex Danvers?

A league of her own.

So she finds herself practically squeaking in the middle of the street, because Alex is just… Alex is everything.

And here she is, slinking her hand through Maggie’s arm, calling them that couple, and it’s perfect, and Maggie says as much, because it is perfect, because Alex is perfect, but then her stomach drops, and nothing, nothing, nothing is perfect anymore.

“Emily?” she calls, because she can’t help it, because it was years ago, but it was for five years years ago, and because god, god, god, she knew they were lesbians in rain boots and carrying yoga mats but she didn’t realize they signed up to be on an episode of The flipping L Word.

“Maggie,” is all she says, and she remembers that look, she remembers that voice, like it was yesterday, like everything was yesterday.

“Hiiii.”

“Uh – “ Emily starts, and Maggie starts at the same time.

“Are – are you, um, back in town?” Because she’d only left because of Maggie.

Only left because of those stupid, drunken nights, those stupid, fucked up mistakes.

Those stupid, reckless blunders – because Emily was starting to talk about getting married, because Emily was starting to talk about Maggie being the one, and no, no, no, that couldn’t happen because no, no, no, it couldn’t be real, it was too good to be true, how could it ever be true, she’s just a fucked up kid from nowhere Nebraska with more scar tissue than skin – that ruined everything, everything, everything.

Just like she always does.

“Yeah. Yeah, just for the week. I’m staying at the Baldwin.”

Of fucking course she’s staying at the Baldwin.

The Baldwin, where Maggie had taken those women, during that awful week, that stupid week, that self-destructive, hey-baby-my-girlfriend’s-out-of-town week, to crash, to drink, to fuck away the terror of being loved, because she’d only leave in the end anyway, because everyone did.

Might as well speed it along.

Or at least get some release out of it.

Of course she’s staying at the fucking Baldwin.

“Oh. Okay.” She forces a smile and she closes her mouth and she stares, because she doesn’t deserve to be happy, and Emily was right, she was right, and she was right to take that little dig, that little reminder that you cheated, that you’re a terrible person, that you could never be happy because you don’t know what happiness actually feels like, because I was always at arms length all these years, wasn’t I, you don’t deserve to be happy because hell, Maggie, you don’t even want to be.

“Hi! I’m Alex.”

Alex’s voice makes her jump slightly, and the pit in her stomach grows. Something she didn’t know was possible.

“Oh, I’m sorry. This is my – my girlfriend, Alex.”

Her voice softens when she says her name, because her name is her only anchor right now.

Her name is her only anchor.

Period.

But it shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t be because god, god, god, she doesn’t deserve it.

And she certainly doesn’t deserve Emily seeing the way Maggie’s found herself another white girl with kind of red hair, the way she knows they look perfect together. Emily doesn’t deserve that.

And Maggie doesn’t deserve an anchor.

“I’m Emily, nice to meet you.”

Maggie knows that tone, even after all these years; that tone, that face. The rushedness of her words, the curtness, but the politeness.

Knows she’s in pain.

And god, she thought she couldn’t hate herself more than she already did, but she can still stir that up in Emily, and god, what if one day she does that to Alex?

No.

Not to Alex.

It was years ago. She was a kid. She was… she has no excuse.

But not to Alex.

“We used to date,” she tosses up her hand, because what else is there to say, and from Alex’s “oh” and little hand clap, she knows Alex already knew, knows Alex already detected, but hearing it out loud is probably giving her a pit in her stomach something akin to what’s roiling in Maggie’s.

Another thing to hate herself for.

“It’s been – “ Maggie starts.

“A lotta years.”

Three years, about eight months, give or take a couple of weeks.

“Yeah.”

Emily’s eyes rake her body and she remembers the sex they had – the wild, unrestrained, loud, rough sex, in the Baldwin, because Emily wanted her to fuck her one last time, wanted her to fuck her like she’d fucked those other girls, where she’d fucked those other girls – and she knows, she knows, that Emily’s thinking about it, too.

Knows because of the way her voice drops like it always had when she was thinking about sex when she says, “We should catch up sometime.”

Maggie almost splutters, but manages not to. “Sure, yeah. That would – that would be good. Sometime.”

The ground. Alex. Her anchor.

Doesn’t deserve an anchor.

The ground again.

Back to Emily’s face. Emily’s face that had been tear-stained and angry the last time she’d seen it, when she’d begged for forgiveness, knowing she didn’t deserve it, not knowing if she really even wanted it.

“I should go. Let you guys get up to whatever you’ve got going on, but it was really good to see you.”

“You too,” Maggie answers, a little too quickly. A little too quickly because god, this hurts.

“Uh, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, yeah.”

She turns to Alex – oh, Alex, Alex, still playing with her hands, because she doesn’t know what else to do with them when they’re not around Maggie’s body, when they’re not holding a gun – and she starts walking away, because she needs scotch. Preferably sooner than later.

But Alex stops her. “What about tonight?”

“Huh?”

“What, she wants to catch up, we don’t have any plans.”

Maggie’s stomach sinks again, and her heart starts racing, and now she thinks she needs a Klonopin instead of a scotch.

“No, I can’t, come on, it’s cold – “

“Hey, do you see how cool I’m being about that?” She can’t help but smile, because this nerd. This nerd.

She doesn’t deserve this nerd.

“I mean, come on.”

She doesn’t think. She just does.

“Emily. Do you wanna have dinner with us tonight?”

A long pause, during which Maggie wants to disappear into the wet concrete.

“Uh, yeah. Sure. I have the same email, just… let me know where.”

Maggie nearly throws up at the mention of the same email – the same email that they’d sent countless letters from, countless dirty pictures, countless everything – but she knows she deserves it.

She couldn’t be more grateful when Alex answers for her.

“We will.”

“Okay.”

Alex puts her arm around her as they turn again. “See, that wasn’t so bad.”

It was, it was, it was.

But Alex had said “we.” We. Us. Alex and Maggie.

She isn’t going anywhere.

And Maggie isn’t going to fuck this up.

Not again.

Even if she doesn’t deserve the woman kissing her cheek as they walk, asking what kind of food Emily likes, and where she thinks they should go tonight.

Even if she doesn’t deserve her at all.