Jackson -

The flight was just as quick as I anticipated, three hours. I begrudgingly had to sit in the middle seat because I was delayed after my talk with Maggie. I chose not to battle for the armrests and to sit with my arms crossed the entire flight. There should be a rule that if you have to sit in the middle seat you get both damn armrests.

After this morning my excitement for the book tour is gone and I'd like to just turn around and get back on the next flight home. But per Maggie's insistence, I push on, making my way to snatch the single duffle bag I've packed and head for the taxis.

Luckily my uber driver immediately picks up on my reluctance to being here and is silent most of the trip. I pull out my phone to text Maggie letting her know my flight arrived safely then pull out my itinerary.

Four different meet and greets in less than three days, one I'm heading to immediately, two tomorrow and a press conference right before the night is over. I'm heading back at dawn the third day and I'll have no setbacks. It's imperative that I'm home on time, I know for a fact Maggie won't delay meeting her father again. Her persistence can be fucking infuriating but at the same time one of the many reasons I love her.

I arrive at Elliot Bay Book Company on Capitol Hill and stand outside of the sign wondering if I'm at the right place. The building is small, much smaller than I'm used to and I wonder if it will fit a meet and greet for a best selling author. I'm not so big-headed as to assume that I will have a massive amount of fans showing tonight, but I'm not sure if this place even has room for a routine meet and greet.

I enter the simple glass doors and I'm immediately swarmed by fans holding their copies of 'After All' with only a few holding other titles I've written. An elderly gentleman who I assume works for this bookstore, gently coaxes the women into giving me space and walks me to an area they have set up in the back.

The store is much larger than it looked from the front with multi-levels and bookshelves towering to the ceilings. It has a modern artsy feel with industrial lighting and redwood beams for support littering the space.

I'll admit the initial manner I dealt with fans before I met Maggie was a bit fake and indifferent. These women with their idealistic feelings of love used to bore me and it bordered disgust until I met Maggie. I actually pity them now, they're searching for what I've already found between the pages of my books.

My open mind quickly falters as the women instantly begin to test my patience. Theatrical weeping from several women sound like nails on a chalkboard and I'm instantly uneasy.

I try to be patient as the woman in front of me raves about the male characters' compassion and devotion as if he's anything more than a fictional personality constructed in my mind. My jaw clenches as I prepare to respond once her long-winded speech has ended.

Be nice.

I hear Maggie's voice in my head and relax my jaw. Maggie always makes it a point to poke my jaw when she sees me start to get worked up. She's become exceptionally good at noticing every indication when I'm stressed.

During a fan photograph, a middle-aged woman's perfectly manicured hand grazes my thigh causing me to jump.

Fucking slag!

I almost shout, but I imagine Maggie pinching me under the table to keep my temper in check and bite my tongue.

After I've given individual attention to each enthusiast, I promptly grab my duffel and hail another Uber to my hotel. Instead of springing for a more lavish suite I've decided to stay at a place that makes the most sense according to location.

My hotel is a bit run down and older but I hardly mind given the convenience it provides me. After all, it's only one night of shut-eye until I'm on to the next dingy hotel.

The room, despite its crummy lobby, isn't bad. The linens are clean and the bed has been turned with mints on top of the pillows. These soft little mints just happen to be my favorite perk of traveling.

The walls are a sea breeze blue and the comforter and sheets are white. I'm assuming it is a show of cleanliness. Which all I need is a somewhat clean and comfortable place to lay my head and I'll be fine.

The tv is ancient, one you'd find in a thrift store for a single bill.  It's one of those older TVs that's so heavy it's a vast effort to move. Maybe that's why they haven't replaced them with flat screens.

I stroll around the room lazily with my hands in my pockets examining everything. The bathroom is all white with bits of blue speckled throughout the tile and sprinkled into decor such as the tissue box and soap holder.

They've also managed to fold the towels into some kind of origami and even folded the toilet paper just so. Why the fuck even bother? Such a waste of time.

Bollocks.

I don't bother unpacking my duffle considering I'll be at a new hotel tomorrow. I imagine the irritation that would cause Maggie if she knew.

Maggie.

The very thought of her lightens my poor attitude and I crack a smile. I feel like a wanker standing alone in this dingy hotel room smiling. I've spent enough time torturing myself, I need to call her before I lose my last ounce of sanity.

I glance at the clock realizing it's almost midnight and reach for my phone. I know she must be in bed by now but hopefully, she hasn't fallen asleep.

After a few short rings, she answers. She's slurring her words and I'm not quite sure if she's said my name or simply greeted me with a hello. She's bloody hammered.

"What are you up to?" I decide to begin our conversation passively, knowing if I piss her off she's likely to hang up and I can't just drive down the street to force her to speak with me.

"Mmm, I'm good. Great actually. I miss you though." She is so drunk she hasn't answered the correct question.

"Are you drunk, Maggie?" I ask softly as I perch on the end of the bed.

"I don't get drunk, I just get a little looser and a little funner." She slurs.

"Funner is not a word." I lay back on the bed and do my best to conceal a smile despite the fact that I'm alone.

"It is, I use it sometimes." She argues.

"Just because you use it doesn't mean it's proper Mags." I'm unable to hide my laughter this time.

"Maggie get back over here. You're too close to the edge." I hear a man's voice say in the background and I instantly stand from the bed clenching my jaw.

"Where are you?" I growl but quickly attempt to compose myself. If I'm too forward she'll pull away.

"I'm at work. I had so much catching up to do, I thought I'd take the opportunity while you were gone to get some reading done."

"You're drunk in the office?" I ask then pull my phone away from my face to check the time.

"Maggie it's almost midnight. What the f-" I take a deep breath, calming myself before I start a fight with her when I'm thousands of miles away. "Maggie, why are you at the office so late?"

"I already told you I'm getting shit done." She says in a cocky tone and I clench my fists as I hear the man in the background speak again.

"Mags come on, back away from the ledge." The mysterious voice beckons.

"Who is with you?" I say in a controlled manner even though I'm seconds from losing my temper. I'm alone in a hotel room missing the fuck out of her and she's partying it up with some asshole?

"Oh, that's just Nick. He's helping me read through some of these scripts. He brought wine!" Maggie exclaims innocently.

"I'm ordering you a fucking cab." I growl. I feel the heat radiating off my body.

"You absolutely are not. I'm a grown woman and I do what I please.  Besides, even if I wanted to leave I couldn't.  We're locked in." She counters.

"You're bloody locked in the office?" I don't believe my ears.  She's locked in with Nick.  If he lays a fucking finger on her-

"I'm calling you a cab right fucking now and tell that fucking prick-" Before I can finish the line goes dead.

Fury is firing through my veins, lighting up my body like the Fourth of fucking July as I stand floored by her reaction. She actually hung up on me. 

I immediately dial her back but the phone goes straight to voicemail. Has she turned off her phone?  Bloody fucking hell, I should have known she wasn't in the right state of mind to start a fight, but then again was what I said all that bad?

I was only trying to look out for her in my own fucked up way. She thinks I'm being overly protective but being wasted off your ass alone with a man who clearly fucking wants your ass can't be a good idea for any sane woman.

I run my hands through my hair and tug at the ends. The pain seems to dull the tension in my chest but only for a fraction of time until I do it again.

"You've reached Maggie!
I can't come to the phone right now but leave a message and I'll be sure to get back with you. Thanks!"

Her perky voicemail pisses me off further but after over twenty calls her voice starts to soothe me. I waste the next hour dialing her repeatedly, leaving message after message pleading with her to answer.

I despise Nick, but even I have to admit he isn't an awful person. My only dislike for the man comes from the fact that he wants what is mine.

You'd be a right mug to not see how badly he wants her, but Maggie thinks I believe every man is after her, so I've chosen to keep this hunch to myself. What bloke spends his night drinking in the office with another man's woman? It's not right.

I lay back in bed and stare at the ceiling as I debate flying home and wonder if I could get a red-eye and just abandon the rest of the tour. I may not care for Nick but he doesn't seem the type to take advantage of a woman and I trust Maggie.

I sit up in bed with a sudden alarm, is this some kind of test? One I've possibly already failed? The inner workings of my mind begin to spin and I mull over the idea that she might be testing my confidence in her.

I most definitely do trust her, I just don't always trust the people she associates with. Her neverending compassion tends to make her vulnerable to the undeserving if I'm any example of that.

Fuck.

My mind is completely muddled as I curl into bed and stare at my phone, willing it to light up with her name. After a few seconds of staring I toss it at the wall and with a loud thud, I know the screen is cracked.