Hey, that's kind of cute.

Sarah snaps her fingers in front of my face, drawing me from my weird inner conversation. "If I have to shove you in the shower, I will. Now, go." She points her index finger in the direction of the hallway, eyes narrowed dangerously.

We stare at each other before I finally give in with a loud huff of breath. "Fine. But it doesn't mean I have to like it," I announce petulantly, storming off down the hall for my bedroom and adjoining bathroom.

After I've scrubbed myself clean-and attempted to figuratively scrub myself clean, yet again, of he-who-shall-not-be-named-I emerge from my steam-filled bathroom to find Sarah sprawled on my bed, scrolling through her Facebook newsfeed on her cell phone.

"About time," she announces on an exhale. "If I had to read another person's annoying post about them taking time off from Facebook only to post something two hours later, I was going to scream." Sliding to her feet, she pulls something from my closet and hands it to me.

"Put this on."

I push her hand back. "I'm not wearing that." She's chosen a pair of black stretchy tights and a form-fitting red sweater that falls to mid-thigh.

I do not want to wear that. That's something I'd wear if I felt sexy or wanted to look sexy for someone else. And clearly, neither applies right now.

She shoves it back at me. "You are." With the expression she currently has, lips pursed and eyes narrowed, I imagine this is exactly how she has to be with difficult patients at the hospital.

Our standoff slash stare down lasts barely thirty seconds because I realize a losing battle when I see one.

"Ugh, fine." I grab the clothing from her and return to the bathroom to dress, drying my hair and attempting to use the magical thing called makeup to make me look more lively than I feel.

Once I pass muster with Sarah and she "signs off" on my beautification attempts, we head down the hall to leave. As I walk past the closed door to Ry's old room, I get that suffocating feeling. I haven't been able to go in there since that day I kicked him out. Jack had come over for a bunch of things, but I haven't been able to set foot in there to see what he's left behind-if anything.

I still haven't cashed his rent check. He'd sent it with Jack with a message, saying since he'd moved out with three weeks of the month remaining, he'd wanted to pay me in full "for all the inconvenience."

I think I quite honestly saw red when Jack quoted Ry that morning. You know how people always use that expression, but most of us are like, huh? Well, I actually understood that saying that particular morning. I'm also pretty certain I had steam coming out of my ears, as well.

As Sarah and I walk along South Broadway to make our way to the Tavern, she links her arm through mine in that way women often do. It's pretty chilly, yes, but more than that, she does it because she loves me and knows I'm having a ridiculously tough time with everything.

"Things are going to be all right, Maggie." My head whips around to peer at her. "I just know it."

I return my attention to the busy sidewalk. "I wish I was as sure."

Slipping inside the Tavern, we immediately loosen the buttons on our coats, and I follow Sarah's lead as she steers us toward the bar for a drink. We manage to find a small spot to slide into, and Sarah snags the attention of one of the bartenders just as I feel the weight of someone's eyes on me.

Tense, my eyes dart around the bar area, and that's when I see him. My vision clouds at the sight of Jack giving me a brief nod; he's still talking to Ry who's sitting beside him at the bar, staring morosely into his beer glass.

I can't do this. I can't be here. I just ... can't.

Turning to tell Sarah I have to leave, she grabs my arms. "Just because you both happen to be at the same bar doesn't mean anything." Her gaze is hopeful. "You and I can still have fun."

"Fun," I mutter with zero enthusiasm before attempting more inflection in my tone. "Yay." And I promptly receive a shove in return.

Drinks in hand, she leads me over to a small table against the wall nearby where an obviously competitive game of darts is taking place, and I know we'll be waiting a bit for our turn. I find myself hoping Ry doesn't notice I'm here, yet simultaneously wanting him to notice my presence.

If that's not screwy, then I don't know what is.

Sliding onto the seats at our table, I've just scooted my chair in closer to the table when a shadow falls over us.

Jack.

"Hello, there, lovely ladies. Fancy meeting you here." He blasts us with his pearly white smile.

"Yeah, super fancy meeting us here." Sarah's dry response has me peering over at her. Because that sounded an awful lot like ...

"You planned this," I accuse, tossing up my hands. "What the heck?" Turning a sharp glare on Jack, I ask, "Did he put you up to this?"

He holds up both hands in defense. "It was all me, I swear. He's been so damn depressed for the past few weeks." Letting his hands drop to his sides, he shrugs. "I wanted to see if maybe we could get the two of you together to talk it out."

"We?" My eyes volley back and forth between Sarah and Jack. Since when were the two of them a "we"?

She tries to shrug it off, eyes not meeting mine. "Figured it couldn't hurt if you two could meet and resolve your differences."

"Differences?" I stare at her in disbelief. "He lied about being gay!" A few heads turn as my voice gains strength and volume.

Scooping up my purse, I stand. "I'll walk back home."

"But Mag-" Sarah's protest is lost as I rush out of the bar, stopping only once I step onto the sidewalk. Luckily, my apartment is only a few blocks away, and all of it is through areas with high foot traffic, so it's safe, well-lit, and well-traveled.

Trying to regain some composure, I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Before I can turn and head up the sidewalk, I hear a voice behind me.

"I'm sorry."

My entire body stiffens at the sound of his voice, the deep timbre. My eyes fall closed because it hurts-it physically hurts-to hear his voice. God, I miss him so much, it's killing me. But he lied to me. I've already experienced what it's like to be in a relationship with one liar and look where that got me. I can't do it again.

"Are you sorry you got caught? Or sorry you lied to me?" I pose my questions without turning around because I can't bear to look at him, knowing I'm too weak and would end up hurling myself into his arms. Just because I miss how he holds me.

"Both." I jerk at his admission before he continues. "I'm sorry I lied to you. I am. I just thought, at the time, that it was the only way to be near you. And I'm sorry I got caught the way I did. That was shitty, and I was planning to tell you-really, I was. I'd wanted to tell you for a while. I just ..." He trails off for a moment. "I'm sorry you had to learn it from someone else."

Giving a curt nod, I blow out a breath in a long whoosh. "Well. Thanks. Have a good ni-"

"I didn't lie about loving you."

My sharp intake of breath is loud, even amidst the usual downtown Friday evening noise. My hand flies to the center of my chest, so certain that I'll find an open wound there; it hurts that bad.

"I have for a while now. I just ... I just never knew how to tell you."

"I have to go." My words come out rushed, and I find myself nearly sprinting in my heels in my haste to get away from him.

It isn't until I'm inside the elevator on the ride up to my floor that I finally breathe easier.

But that pain in my chest-in my heart-feels like it hurts more now than ever.

Chapter Fifty-Four.

Ry When a woman almost breaks the speed of light trying to get away from you, it's a good sign that things didn't go well. Which is what could be said of the talk Maggie and I just had.

Hell, I don't even know if it could even be classified as a talk.

The door to the bar opens, and someone walks up to stand beside me as I continue staring off in the direction Maggie ran off.

"It went well, huh?" Sarah asks.

"Totally."

"Yeah, I sense that from the fact that I can barely make her out in the distance." Sarah reaches an arm out, using her thumb and forefinger, squinting. "She's about the size of a small beetle now."

I let out a short laugh. "You're crazy; you know that, right?"

She smiles. "Yep." Turning her gaze back to the sidewalk where we're no longer able to see Maggie in the distance, she lets out a long, sad sigh. "You have your work cut out for you, buddy."

"Yeah."

I feel the weight of her eyes on me. "But you're not giving up?"

I take a moment to answer. "No."

She links her arm through mine, giving it a light tug. "Then we need to get back in there with your boyfriend and hash out a grand plan."

My lips curve up slightly at her insistence. It's then that it hits me.

Maggie never said she didn't love me back. And that can only mean one thing.

I still have a chance.

Chapter Fifty-Five.

Maggie The first delivery arrives barely five minutes after I sit down at my desk at work on Monday morning.

"Maggie?" One of the new interns, Jess, stands at my door with an envelope in her hand. "This just arrived for you."

Accepting it from her with thanks, she leaves, and I'm left sitting with a mysterious envelope in my possession. It only has my first and last name typed on the outside. Cautiously, I use my letter opener to slide it open. When I pull out the contents, I freeze, my entire body rigid with shock.

He'd kept it.

Staring down at the small, wrinkled napkin in my hand, I recall immediately when this took place. We had gone out for our first outing as roommates to have a drink and bond. Our conversation had turned to what quality we wanted in the other person we were in a relationship with. I had written it on the bar napkin, and he had proclaimed loudly, "If it is written, then so it should be!" in a bellowing voice. I had laughed then, as the other bar patrons had shaken their heads, clearly thinking Ry had been overserved.

I want a guy who will love me even when I have no makeup on and still tell me-and believe-that I'm beautiful.

Ry's response from that night was written right beneath mine. But it seems he'd added something to it; drawing an arrow from my response, he pointed it at something he'd added at the bottom.

I want someone who will be cool with hanging out and watching movies we've seen a million times. Just to be with me.

I know a guy who does. Who always has. From day one.

My boss comes out of his office, rushing into mine and catching me staring down at an old wrinkled bar napkin before I quickly tuck it away. He gives me an update on his upcoming appointments and what materials he'll need before he retreats to his office to make a few calls.

Pulling the napkin back out, I find myself staring at it in wonder. He had kept it? After all this time?

Glancing over at my office window a few feet away, I wonder if he's in his office across the street, and if he's watching me with those creepy binoculars. If he's even in his office today.

A call comes in from one of our more demanding clients, forcing me to push aside the note from Ry.

I'm reluctantly readying myself to have lunch at my desk yet again, since it's already started out as one of those Mondays.

One of our architects submitted his resignation notice-completely unexpectedly, I might add. Now, my boss has that vein on the side of his temple that looks like it will burst at any given moment. Which means it's going to be a loooooooong day.

The knocking on my door startles me just as I'm about to pull out my peanut butter sandwich-yes, I'm already imposing my cheapness now that I'm roommate-less-and glance up to see Jess at my door again.

She's holding an envelope similar to the one I received earlier this morning.

This goes on three times a day-morning, lunchtime, and before the workday ends-for the remainder of the week. And I ... I just don't know what to think.

I don't want to admit that I crept into his room the other night. I'd curled up on his bed and cried because I miss him so much. Heck, even his sheets are still on the bed-guess he doesn't need or want them-or his bed-back.

I lay there and cried after I'd come home from work to find an envelope taped to the apartment door. Inside was another bar napkin, and I swear I can recall the conversation we'd had that night as if it were yesterday.

"Is it wrong that I want the whole shebang? I want a guy who will not only love me for me, but someone who's my best friend," I'd told him.

Looking back on that memory, I wonder if there had actually been yearning in his eyes, even then.

"I want the exact same thing," he'd said. And so I'd written: I want a guy who is not only the love of my life but my best friend, too.

Beneath it, Ry had written: I want the same. Always.

Now, though, beneath our writing was an addition.

I love a woman who also happens to be my best friend. Except now, she doesn't want to be that anymore since I messed up and broke her trust. I still love her, though. More than anything in the world. Always will.

It's Saturday, and Sarah and I are having a rainy day TV-watching marathon. We've ordered takeout and have just started the next episode of Kimmy Schmidt-no eighties movies permitted since that had been more of a Maggie-Ry tradition-when there's a knock on the door.

I pause the show, get up, and grab my cash to pay the takeout guy. Except when I open the apartment door, no one is there. Glancing around and finding nothing and no one, I frown, stepping back to close the door when something catches my eye.