10. Maggie

"So now you casually get pizza with Tommy Mikals?" I switched the phone to my other ear as Olivia yelled through the receiver. "While holding hands?"

"I was going to tell you . . . ," I started, grimacing as Olivia went off again about how we told each other everything and how she hated finding out about me dating one of the hottest guys we'd ever seen on social media.

She stopped suddenly, a thought occurring to her. "Are you getting fired?"

I had to think fast on my feet and cursed my inability to lie. Olivia knew me well enough that if I blatantly lied to her even over the phone, she would know. I was going to have to settle for something close to the truth. "HR cleared it."

"You already brought it up to HR?" I was crossing my fingers, hoping that Olivia would believe it. If she pressed any more, I was sure to crack and spill my guts to her. I was not made for this stupid plan. The last thing I wanted was to put her job in jeopardy.

"Olivia, I'm sorry," I told her again for the hundredth time. Olivia sighed on the other end of the line. It was the telltale sign that she was giving in to me. I was thankful for the fact that neither of us had ever stayed mad at the other for very long.

"You can make it up to me by telling me if Tommy is as good of a kisser as he looks." I could practically picture Olivia waiting eagerly on the other end to hear all of the dirty details.

"We haven't kissed yet, but I'll keep you updated. I promise." Part of me felt horrible lying to Olivia like this, but what was I supposed to do? I was sure that if she knew the whole story, she would understand.

"Is he nice?" she asked. "He has to be nice if you're willing to go out with him. He can't be some massive dick, right? You're not into that, are you?"

In the almost three years that I had known Olivia, I had not gone on a single date. She knew the reason why, which was probably why she found this such a big deal that I had gone out with Tommy Mikals. If this whole charade were real, I would know how big of a deal this was. Which was exactly why I couldn't even bring myself to tell her that I was attracted to him in the first place. I didn't want to get anyone's hopes up, thinking I was healed or that I was finally moving on. That would never happen.

"Have you seen the new photos?" Olivia continued before I could respond. I hadn't seen the photos yet this morning, and part of me didn't want to go looking for them. The first time I laid my eyes on the paparazzi photo that Monica used in that fateful meeting, I had looked at a stranger. The girl in that photo had been unrecognizable to my eyes, and I wasn't sure that I was ready to see what version of myself was in the news this time.

"Listen, I'm walking up to my parents' house. How about I fill you in on the plane tomorrow? We have the entire flight to California to catch up."

Olivia sighed but agreed.

Thankfully.

I was quickly approaching my lying threshold for the day.

My parents lived in a suburb of Chicago, still in the home I grew up in as a child. All of the neighbors that had raised me still lived on the same street. A couple of them waved at me as I walked up the driveway. The house looked the exact same, even though my dad had done countless updates to the exterior. Gnomey, my mom's garden gnome, still sat in the same spot in the front garden. Our next-door neighbor's tabby cat was perched on their fence, looking over into our yard like a permanent fixture. Nothing had changed.

An immediate sense of safety washed over me. No matter what was happening in life, this place would always be home to me and allow me to escape the chaos of life. I walked up the cobblestone pathway that led up to the big wraparound porch that still had the old porch swing I had spent many nights on. The front door was open, leaving only the screen door to let in the fresh air.

The moment I walked into the foyer, I could tell my mom was in the kitchen by the smell of oatmeal cookies drifting through the house. My favorite. The sound of the mower came from the backyard, and I knew it would be me and Mom for a little bit as my dad finished up with the outdoor chores.

"Maggie?" my mom called.

"I'm coming," I told her as I navigated from the front door to the kitchen. My mom was pulling out a sheet of cookies from the oven when I walked in. My mouth watered at the sight of them. The recipe had been passed down through our family for generations and was a cornerstone of my childhood. They were so famous that my mother had to start baking big enough batches so I could take some for my friends at school. I swore those cookies were so magical they could cause world peace.

"Hi, sweetie." She peeled her oven mitts off and came around the corner to wrap me in her arms. "Have you eaten anything?" She held me at arm's length as she looked me over from head to toe.

"I just did right before I came over." My mom pulled me over to the couch so we could catch up as we waited for the cookies to cool off.

"You know better than that," she scolded me.

"You told me we were eating dinner, so I had lunch." We always did the same runaround every time I came over. She missed getting to take care of me, so any chance she had, she was going to do it.

My mom was the best person I knew. She had grown up with the aspirations of being an artist. Many of the paintings in our home were her original pieces. When she met my father, he had championed her dreams like the amazing partner that he was, but when a positive pregnancy test had surprised them both, my mom's dreams were put on the back burner. She had sacrificed her career to raise me, only painting when she had time, but still trying to help contribute to the family. Every aspect of her was what I aspired to be: poised, selfless, and beyond cool. I didn't know a single other person that loved to use squirt guns full of paint as their tool of choice.

She was my best and longest friend and always had my back during the hardest part of my life. When I had nowhere to go after graduation, she was supportive of having me move back in until I could get on my feet. The photo of Adam Steel sat proudly framed next to her most prestigious painting. There wasn't another person in this world that wanted my success and happiness more than my mom.

"All right, fill me in on what's new." My mom sat back against the couch with a look on her face that made me hesitate. It was the same look I gave others when I was trying to hide that I knew something.

"What're you digging for?"

"I'm not digging." She started to shake her head, but I cut her off.

"Yes, you are. Let's not beat around the bush here."

"You didn't tell me you were seeing someone."

I froze. Since when did my mom go on social media? My brain kicked into hyperdrive as I tried to figure out some explanation for what was going on that my mother wouldn't catch me in a lie about. "It's nothing serious."

"You used to tell me about guys even when you had a crush on them," she reminded me. "What happened to that?"

"And with Tommy Mikals," my dad's voice boomed through the room as he came in from the backyard. I wanted the couch cushions to eat me alive.

"We're just friends."

"Who hold hands?" my mother continued to press. "I knew something was up when you called me the other day."

"Mom." I decided the please don't embarrass me tactic would be the best option for this situation. My mother could read me like a book and knew the second I tried to lie to her. If my parents were now keeping up with my very public, very fake dating life, I was in more over my head than I thought.

"All I wanted to say is that it's nice seeing you put yourself out there again." She held her hands up in mock surrender.

I looked over toward one of the framed photos on my parents' mantel. It was me in the arms of a guy with sandy-blond, curly hair. Our smiles lit up our entire faces. His arms were around my waist, his face buried in my neck, as I smiled at the camera and showed off the new ring on my left hand. That same ring now rested on my middle finger on my right hand. My mom still hadn't taken it down, and I still hadn't taken the ring off. She had asked me if I wanted her to, but I told her no. They had loved Luke as much as I did. We couldn't just erase him from our lives like he hadn't existed. That wasn't fair to him or the love we had.

My mom had tears in her eyes when I looked at her again. So the only thing I could do that wouldn't put me in a pile of tears was reach over to grab her hand and tell her, "I know."

Both of my parents had watched me turn into a shell of myself over the last few years. I stopped reaching out to my old friends because the reminder of my old life hurt too much. I couldn't go out because the entire city had become one giant reminder of Luke. The only thing I could do was throw myself into my photos and perfect my craft.

When Olivia came into my life, she managed to break down some of those walls I had erected and immediately became my mom's new favorite person. Olivia would force me out of my apartment and help me recreate some semblance of a social life.

"He would want you to be happy, you know." My mother squeezed both of my hands, the emotion of the last three years evident on her face.

"I know."

"You have so much life ahead of you, Maggie." My father joined our conversation, which made my insides twist. He was not a man of many words, and he avoided any situation that involved feelings, which made this conversation that much more uncomfortable for me. When I had been at the lowest point in my life, I watched him struggle with what to say to make me feel better. Instead, he showed up every other weekend to help clean my apartment, showing he cared in other ways. "You shouldn't have to stop living just because Luke isn't here anymore."

We never had conversations like this after Luke died. I was too distraught to have allowed it, and my parents respected my wishes. But eventually, a conversation like this was bound to happen. I never thought it would be propelled by fake dating Tommy fucking Mikals.

"I know, Dad."

"We just want you to be happy, sweetheart."

And honestly, I wanted nothing more than that too.