Imagine With Me (With Me in Seattle 15)

“Yes.” She reaches over and snatches my sandwich off the plate and takes a big bite. I stare at her. “What?”

“I was going to make you one.”

“I’ll have just the one, thanks. I’ll be stuffed after this.” Her smile is smug. She’s such a pain in my ass.

Has been since the day she was born.

I get to work making another sandwich. The sound of Murphy’s snores fills the room. Maggie isn’t talking, she’s just watching me, chewing on her pastrami and rye.

“So, you’re just here because you haven’t seen me in a while?”

“You haven’t been at the pub in a week.”

“Keegan hasn’t needed me.”

“But you usually come anyway.”

I finish the sandwich and take a bite. “I told you, I’ve been working.”

“You’re also really grouchy.”

I narrow my eyes and continue chewing.

“See? You’re not even speaking to me. I mean, I know you’re on the quiet side, but this is excessive even for you, Shawn Michael O’Callaghan.”

“Only Ma gets to use my middle name and get a reaction.”

“We can call her if you’d like,” she offers with a saccharine-sweet smile. “Or, you can make it easy on yourself and tell me what has your knickers all up in a wad.”

I laugh and finish the last bite of my sandwich. She’s still eating hers, so I lean on the counter and cross my arms over my chest.

“My knickers, as you so delicately put it, are not in a wad.”

“Talk to me. I’m your sister. I love you, and I can keep a secret.”

“You told Ma that I was the one who broke that expensive plate of hers when I was nine. After you swore you wouldn’t tattle on me.”

“I was young and impressionable,” Maggie says with a shrug. “Besides, you were only grounded for a week for that.”

“Yeah, the week of Patrick Simpson’s birthday party, when they were going to the laser tag place, and I had to stay home.”

She winces, which gives me immense satisfaction. “I said I was sorry.”

“There’s nothing going on,” I reply and put my dirty dishes in the dishwasher. “I really am neck-deep in a project, and I just haven’t had time to get to the pub. But if you ever need me, all you have to do is call.”

“I know that,” she says, waving me off. “How did it go in Seattle a few weeks ago when you got to see Lexi?”

I press my lips together and stare at her.

“I knew this weird mood had to do with her.”

“I’m not in a bloody weird mood.”

“Did it not go well? Was she not excited to see you? You haven’t talked about how you left things before, so maybe it was uncomfortable and awkward?”

“You should be a writer,” I mumble, deadpan. “You have a great imagination.”

“I wouldn’t have to use my imagination if you’d just tell me what happened.”

I walk into the living room and over to the windows that look out to the ocean and shove my hands into my pockets.

It’s true, I have been working like crazy since that night a couple weeks ago with Lexi. But I’ve also spent plenty of time standing right here, staring out at the waves.

I turn around to find Maggie snuggled up with Murphy on the sofa, waiting patiently for me to open up to her.

Maybe talking it out would help, because keeping things to myself all this time certainly hasn’t been a cure for the post-Lexi blues.

“The meeting was good,” I begin and sit in a chair across from my sister. “We got a lot of things about the project ironed out. Lexi looked amazing, as usual. Maybe even more so than before.

“I took her to dinner, and then I spent the night with her.”

Maggie’s green eyes light up. “Way to go, big brother.”

“And then she proceeded to pack up her stuff and split in the middle of the night.”

Her face falls. “Yikes.”

“Yeah. Yikes. So, I’m going to go ahead and assume that she’s not interested in pursuing anything with me.”

She blinks at me and then frowns. “But did you call and ask her why she left?”

“No.”

Her eyes narrow. “What did you say to fuck it up?”

“I didn’t say anything. Christ, Mary Margaret, I’m not an asshole.”

“Well, something went wrong for her to just up and sneak out in the middle of the bloody night, Shawn. Women don’t usually do that.”

“If I remember correctly, Anastasia did exactly that to Kane, remember?”

“That’s different,” she says, waving me off.

“Why?”

“Because Kane can be an asshole, so him losing women in the middle of the night doesn’t surprise me. You, on the other hand, are a different story altogether. Do you even care?”

“Do I care about why she ghosted me? Of course, I do.”

She rubs her hands through her hair in agitation. “Okay, let’s back up. Before you had sex, I assume you had a conversation.”