Maybe Now (Maybe 2)

Ask around, you’ll figure out

You’re the one I’m thinking ‘bout

Time will come and you will see

You’re the only one who fixes me

You’re the only one who fixes me, yeah

Out of order, out of my mind

Had you waiting on a white lie

Took a minute but I finally found my way

Ask around, you’ll figure out

You’re the one I’m thinking ‘bout

Time will come and you will see

You’re the only one who fixes me

Ask around, you’ll figure out

You’re the one I’m thinking ‘bout

Time will come and you will see

You’re the only one who fixes me

You’re the only one who fixes me, yeah

When Brennan finishes playing the song, Sydney doesn’t move right away. She’s curled up to me, her hand fisted in my shirt. I think she must need a moment to absorb that.

When she finally pulls away from my chest, there are tears in her eyes, and she wipes them away with her fingers. Brennan and I wait for her to say something, but she just shakes her head. “Don’t make me talk right now. I can’t.”

Brennan smiles at me. “Speechless. Your girl approves.” He stands up and says, “I’m gonna head to your apartment and get this one recorded on my phone while it’s fresh in my head. Want a ride?”

Sydney nods and grabs my hand. “Yes. But we aren’t staying at Ridge’s. We have to go back to my apartment. It’s important.”

I give her a confused look.

She shoots me an adamant look in return. “Bridge, cloud, pimple. Now.”

I smile as she pulls me toward Brennan’s car.

I think she loved that song.

Ridge and Brennan have both exited Brennan’s car, but I’m still sitting in the front passenger seat, looking at the car parked next to ours. It’s Hunter’s car. But it’s not Hunter shutting the back door. It’s Tori. Which is why I’m frozen to my seat, because I wasn’t expecting to see her, and I really don’t want her to see me. I’m certain it won’t end up with me punching her again, but I still have no desire to talk to her.

It’s too late, though, because Ridge doesn’t recognize her, and he opens my door right as she’s rounding the front of our car. She pauses in her tracks when our eyes meet.

Dammit.

I take Ridge’s hand and slowly get out of the car. Tori looks like she’s seen a ghost. But she doesn’t run away like I wish she would. Instead, she walks the sacks of groceries to the hood of her car and sets them down. Then she turns to me, hugging herself.

“Hi,” she says. I can tell she wants to talk. And I just don’t have it in me to be a complete dick to her.

I look at Ridge. “You go,” I sign. “Two minutes.”

Ridge glances at Tori and then at me. He nods and backs away, falling into step with Brennan as they head up to Ridge’s apartment.

Tori looks good. She’s always looked good. I find myself pulling at my ponytail and wiping a wisp of hair out of my face.

“Is that your boyfriend?” she asks.

I glance up at the top of the stairs. Ridge is walking into his apartment backward, looking down at us with concern. I give him a reassuring smile before he closes the door. I turn my attention back to Tori, folding my arms over my chest. “Yeah.”

There’s a knowing look in Tori’s eye. “He’s the guy from the balcony, right? The one you were writing lyrics for?”

I suddenly become protective of everything going on in my life, and I don’t want to reveal anything to Tori. I don’t even know why I’m out here right now. She just seemed like she really wanted me to stop and talk to her. Maybe so she can move past everything that happened between us.

I look behind her, at Hunter’s car. There’s a “For Sale” sign posted in the side and back windows.

“Hunter is selling his car?”

Tori looks over her shoulder at it. “Yeah. We think it got water damage or something. It’s been smelling weird for a while now.”

I cover my mouth with my hand, ensuring she doesn’t see my smile breaking through. When I’m certain I can hold it in, I move my hand and grip the strap of my purse. “That’s too bad. I know he loves that car.”

Tori’s phone rings, and she glances down at it, then answers it, turning away from me a little. Almost as if she doesn’t want me to be privy to her conversation.

“What?” she whispers. The way she answers the phone makes it seem like she’s irritated with whoever is on the other line. She glances up at her apartment and says, “I still have another load of groceries to bring up. Give me a sec.”

She ends the call and slides her phone into her pocket. She walks over to the hood of her car and starts grabbing the sacks of groceries. She stands in front of me, two sacks in each hand, arms down at her sides. “So, um…” She pauses and inhales a sharp breath, exhaling it just as quickly. “You wanna grab coffee sometime? I’d really like to catch up. Hear all about the new boyfriend.”

I stare at her a moment, wondering why she would think I’m okay with that. I realize I was also a Tori at a very short point during mine and Ridge’s friendship, but as mad as I am at Hunter and as mad as Maggie must have been at Ridge, there are few betrayals on earth that hurt worse than the betrayal of your very best friend. She’s the person I shared my life with. A home with. All my secrets with. And the entire time we lived together, she was betraying me on a daily basis.

I don’t want coffee with her. I don’t even want to be outside chatting with her, acting like she didn’t break my heart with ten times the strength that Hunter ever could.

I shake my head. “I don’t think coffee is a good idea.” I choose to walk around the back of her car so that I don’t have to get even closer to her. Before I head for the stairs, I look up at her. “You really hurt me, Tori. More than Hunter ever could have. But I still think you deserve better than a man who doesn’t even bother to come down and help you carry up groceries.”

I walk away and run up the stairs, away from her, away from that smelly car, and away from the sad reality that she still hasn’t found happiness yet. I wonder if she ever will.

I walk inside the apartment, and Brennan is on the couch with his guitar. He nods his head toward Ridge’s room. When I open the door to Ridge’s bedroom, he’s lying across the bed on his stomach, hugging a pillow. I walk over to him, but he’s asleep. I know he’s had a long twenty-four hours, so I don’t bother waking him. I let him rest.

Brennan is at the table now, playing the song he and Ridge just wrote. I walk to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of wine. There’s only enough left for one glass. Bridgette and I really tore through their stash. Ridge is probably going to start keeping the wine in a Windex bottle.

“Sydney??

??

I turn toward Brennan, and he’s hugging his guitar, his chin resting on it. “I’m really hungry. Do you think you can make me a grilled cheese?”

I laugh as soon as the question comes out of his mouth. But then I realize he’s serious. “You’re asking me to make you a sandwich?”

“It’s been a long day, and I don’t know how to cook. Ridge always cooks for me when I’m over here.”

“Oh, my God. How old are you? Twelve?”

“Transpose those numbers and you’ve got your answer.”

I roll my eyes and open the refrigerator to take out the cheese. “I can’t believe I’m making you a sandwich. I feel like I’m disappointing every female that has ever fought for our equality.”

“It only counts against feminism when you make your man a sandwich. It doesn’t count if it’s just a friend.”

“Well, we won’t even be friends if you think you can ask me to cook for you every time you visit your brother.”

Brennan smiles and turns back toward his guitar. He starts strumming it to a tune I haven’t heard from him before. Then he starts to sing.

Cheddar, swiss, provolone. That is where I feel at home.

Slap that cheese on some bread. I like it more than getting head.

Grilled cheese,

Grilled cheese,

Grilled cheese from Sydney.

Blake. Not Australia.

I’m laughing at his impressive improv abilities, even though it was a terrible song. He’s obviously just as talented as Ridge is. He just suppresses it for some reason.

He sets his guitar on the table and walks over to the bar. He grabs a paper towel and places it in front of him. I guess that’s the extent of his sandwich prep.

“Do you even have trouble writing lyrics? Or do you pretend you can’t write because of your guilt?”

“What would I have to feel guilty for?” Brennan asks, taking his seat at the bar.

“Just a hunch, but I think you hate that you were born with the ability to hear, but Ridge wasn’t. So you pretend you need him more than you actually do. Because you love him.” I flip the grilled cheese over. Brennan doesn’t respond right away, so I know I have him pegged.