Maybe Someday (Maybe 1)

How could I do this to her?

How could I do to her what was done to me, knowing it’s the worst feeling in the world?

I’ve never in my life known this kind of shame.

Several minutes pass, full of regrets, before I realize the front door is still wide open. I leave my phone on the couch and walk to the door to shut it, but my eyes are drawn to the cab pulled up directly in front of our complex. Maggie is stepping out, looking up at me as she closes the door. I’m not at all prepared to see her, so I quickly step back out of her sight to regain my bearings. I don’t know if I should go hide in my room or stay out here and try to explain Ridge’s innocence in all of this.

But how would I do that? She obviously read the conversations herself. She knows we kissed. She knows he admitted having feelings for me. As much as I can try to convince her that he did everything he could not to feel that way, it doesn’t excuse the fact that the guy she’s in love with has openly admitted his feelings for someone else. Nothing can excuse that, and I feel like complete shit for being a part of it.

I’m still standing with the door open when she makes it to the top of the stairs. She’s looking at me with a stern expression. I know she’s more than likely here for anything other than me, so I take a step back and open the door wider. She looks down at her feet when she passes me, unable to continue the eye contact.

I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t be able to look at me, either. In fact, if I were her, I’d be punching me right now.

She heads to the kitchen counter, and she drops Ridge’s laptop onto it without delicacy. Then she heads straight to Ridge’s room. I hear her rummaging through stuff, and she eventually comes out with a bag in one hand and her car keys in the other. I’m still standing motionless with my hands on the door. She continues to keep her eyes focused on the floor as she passes me again, but this time, she makes a quick movement with her hand and wipes away a tear.

She walks out the door, down the stairs, and straight to her car, never speaking a word.

I wanted her to tell me she hated me. I wanted her to punch me and scream at me and call me a bitch. I wanted her to give me a reason to be angry, because right now, my heart is breaking for her, and I know there isn’t a damn thing I could say to make her better. I know this for a fact, because I’ve recently been in the same situation that Ridge and I have just put her in.

We just made her a Sydney.

Ridge

The third and final text comes through when I pull up to the hospital. I know it’s the final text, because it’s pulled from the conversation I had with Sydney less than two hours ago. It’s the very last thing I messaged her.

Maggie: “Don’t thank me, Sydney. You shouldn’t thank me, because I failed miserably at trying not to fall in love with you.”

I can’t take any more. I throw the phone into the passenger seat and exit the vehicle, then sprint into the hospital and straight up to her room. I push open the door and rush inside, preparing to do whatever I can to persuade her to hear me out.

When I’m inside her room, I’m instantly gutted.

She’s gone.

I press my palms against my forehead and pace the empty room, trying to figure out how I can take it all back. She read everything. Every single conversation I’ve ever had with Sydney on my laptop. Every single honest feeling I’ve shared, every joke we’ve made, every flaw we’ve listed.

Why was I so damn careless?

Twenty-four years I’ve lived without ever experiencing this type of hatred. It’s the type of hatred that completely overwhelms the conscience. It’s the type of hatred that excuses otherwise inexcusable actions. It’s the type of hatred that can be felt in every facet of the body and in every inch of the soul. I’ve never known it until this moment. I’ve never hated anything or anyone with as much intensity as I hate myself right now.

Chapter Twenty

Sydney

“Are you crying?” Bridgette asks without compassion as she comes through the front door. Warren follows closely behind her, but he pauses the second his eyes meet mine.

I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting motionless on the couch, but it still isn’t long enough for reality to have been absorbed just yet. I’m still hoping this is a dream. Or a nightmare. This isn’t how things were supposed to turn out.

“Sydney?” Warren says hesitantly. He knows something is wrong, because I’m sure my swollen, bloodshot eyes clearly give me away.

I attempt to form an answer, but I fail to come up with one. As much a part of this as I am, I still feel that Ridge and Maggie’s situation isn’t mine to be sharing.

Luckily, Warren doesn’t have to ask me what’s wrong, because I’m spared by Ridge’s presence. He’s barging through the front door, taking both Bridgette’s and Warren’s attention off of me.

He pushes between the two of them and heads straight for his room. He swings open the door, then comes out through the bathroom seconds later. He looks at Warren and signs something. Warren shrugs and signs back, but I can’t follow their conversation at all.

When Ridge responds again, Warren looks directly at me. “What does he mean?” Warren asks me.

I shrug. “I failed to learn sign language between now and the last time we spoke, Warren. How the hell should I know?”

I don’t know where my unwarranted sarcasm is coming from, but I feel Warren should have anticipated that one.

He shakes his head. “Where’s Maggie, Sydney?” Warren points at the counter toward Ridge’s computer. “He says she had his computer, so she had to come by here after she left the hospital.”

I look at Ridge to answer but can’t deny the fact that jealousy is coursing through me at watching his reaction when it comes to Maggie. “I don’t know where she went. All she did was walk in, set your computer down, and grab her things. She’s been gone for half an hour.”

Warren is signing everything I’m saying to Ridge. When he finishes, Ridge runs a frustrated hand through his hair, then takes a step toward me. His eyes are angry and hurt, and he begins signing with forceful movements of his hands. His obvious anger makes me wince, but his disappointment in me fills me with my own share of anger.

“He wants to know how you could just let her leave,” Warren says.

I immediately stand up and look Ridge directly in the eye. “What did you expect me to do, Ridge? Lock her in the damn closet? You can’t be mad at me for this! I’m not the one who failed to delete messages I wouldn’t want someone else to read!”

I don’t wait for Warren to finish signing for Ridge. I walk to my bedroom and slam the door behind me, then drop down onto my bed. Moments later, I hear the door to Ridge’s bedroom slam shut, too. The sounds don’t stop there, though. I hear things crashing against his bedroom walls, one by one, as he takes his frustration out on any inanimate object in his path.

I don’t hear the knock through the sounds coming from Ridge’s bedroom. My door opens, and Warren slips inside. He shuts my bedroom door, then leans his back against it. “What happened?” he asks.

I turn my head to face the other direction. I don’t want to answer him, and I don’t want to look at him, because I know anything I say to him will only cause him to be disappointed in Ridge and me. I don’t want him to be disappointed in Ridge.

“Are you okay?” His voice is closer now. He sits down on the bed beside me and places a comforting hand on my back. The reassuring contact from him causes me to break

down again as I bury my face in my arms. I feel as though I’m drowning, but I have no fight left to even bother coming up for air.

“You said something about messages to Ridge. Did Maggie read something that upset her?”

I turn my head back over and look up at him. “Go ask Ridge, Warren. It’s not my place to tell you Maggie’s business.”

Warren purses his lips in a tight line, nodding slowly while he thinks. “I kind of think it is your place, though. Isn’t it? Does it not have everything to do with you? And I can’t ask Ridge. I’ve never seen him like this before, and frankly, I’m a little terrified of him right now. But I’m worried about Maggie, and I need you to tell me what happened so I can figure out if there’s anything I can do to help.”

I close my eyes, wondering how I can answer Warren’s question with a simplified response. I open my eyes and look at him again. “Don’t be angry with him, Warren. The only thing Ridge has done wrong is fail to delete a few messages.”

Warren tilts his head and narrows his doubtful eyes. “If that’s the only thing Ridge did wrong, then why is Maggie avoiding him? Are you saying that the messages she read weren’t wrong? Whatever has been going on between the two of you isn’t wrong?”

I don’t like the condescending undertone in his voice. I sit up on the bed and scoot back, putting space between the two of us as I respond. “The fact that Ridge has been honest in his conversations with me is not something he did wrong. The fact that he has feelings for me also isn’t wrong, when you know exactly how much he’s fought those feelings. People can’t control matters of the heart, Warren. They can only control their actions, which is exactly what Ridge did. He lost control once for ten seconds, but after that, every single time temptation reared its ugly head, he walked in the other direction. The only thing Ridge has done wrong is fail to delete his messages, because by doing so, he failed to