Page 92 of The Roommate Subtext

Maggie settled back into the curve of his arm. She drew her fingertip in a circle in the crinkly hair on his chest. “I keep meaning to ask you. What’s that plant on your bureau?”

Blake grinned in surprise. “What? You want to talk about plants now? You’ve already got me; you don’t have to flirt.”

Maggie poked him in the chest. “I’m serious! I keep feeling like I’ve seen it somewhere and I don’t know why.”

Blake looked past her to the row of plants on his bureau. “Which one?”

“The one in the orange pot. In the middle. I was going to look it up in your plant binder but I didn’t have time.”

Blake spotted the plant, then grinned, drawing her closer into his arms. “That’s a scarlet pimpernel.”

Maggie stilled, then started laughing so hard her body shook. “What the hell,” she said when she could breathe again. “Is that where you got your name from?”

“It’s my favorite,” he said.

“I should’ve looked it up.” She sighed. “I could have figured this all out.”

“And where would be the fun in that?”

Maggie scooted up to drop a kiss on his lips. “I hope you don’t ever stop surprising me.”

The “ever” carried a sense of permanence Blake liked very much. Looking up into her beautiful eyes, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more. He brushed his nose across hers, then pulled her back down into his arms. “I’ll do my best.”

They had time: time enough to learn how to be together, and how to be Maggie and Blake as well as Curious Rose and the Scarlet Pimpernel.

They even had enough time to create a whole future.

EPILOGUE

The next autumn

If she was honest with herself, Maggie had never really liked weddings. She’d been to a handful in the last five years: mostly friends from college. None of her closest circle of girlfriends was married yet. This might make today’s wedding the first where she was really, deeply invested in the couple. That was the only logical explanation for why, when Andrew promised to commit his life to Zane, she teared up from her spot on the white folding chair in the third row. It also explained why she kept getting a lump in her throat at the sight of Blake standing up there as Andrew’s best man, dapper as can be in a charcoal-gray suit, grinning ridiculously. It could be the environment, too: the boutique hotel on the North Shore, the grassy lawn overlooking the ocean, framed by trees resplendent with color. Or maybe it was the joy: the happy grooms sharing their first kiss as a married couple, the tangible celebration of love surrounded by one’s family and friends. She couldn’t help but get emotional, and she decided to forgive herself for it.

The year had been better than she’d expected in many ways, honestly. She could afford to get a bit sappy on occasion. Not only was her relationship with Blake thriving, but they’d both had professional success as well. She had several editing gigs in the pipeline and had written for a few new outlets, and Blake had closed several record-breaking quarters at PlantSeed. Cora was still with Vanessa and still working too hard at the medical research lab, but Maggie liked seeing her sister doing what she loved. Best of all, her parents’ estate had been cleared of any wrongdoing, and apparently there hadn’t even been grounds for an investigation in the first place. It looked like Chauvel had tried (unsuccessfully) to orchestrate the whole thing, but fortunately, they hadn’t seen or heard anything from him since that night at the restaurant.

The wedding of Andrew and Zane seemed like a perfect capstone to her first year with Blake, and if it made her think of the future, well, that was only natural.

Her thoughts turned in that direction when they left the reception that evening, after the dinner and drinks and dancing wound down, and she wrapped her arm with Blake’s as they walked into the cold October night. They were far enough from the city to let the night get properly dark. With a million stars overhead, it was easy to lose herself in the larger questions she usually set aside in favor of the here and now. She stared up into the inky darkness, letting Blake guide her on the short walk from the reception hall to the hotel building.

“You’re deep in thought tonight.” He nuzzled her hair and dropped a kiss in the dark brown waves. “It isn’t like you to go silent.”

“Mmm.” Maggie made a quiet noise of assent and leaned into him. “Just thinking about today. About Andrew and Zane.”

“It was a great wedding.” Blake wrapped his arm around her waist. “Are you cold? Do you want my jacket?”

“I’m fine.” She had a wrap, and after the heat of the reception, it was nice to be a bit chilly.

“Well, you’re about to be better than fine. I have a surprise for you.” He fished in his pocket and pulled out his phone. He tapped through to a video of a local reporter standing in downtown Boston, clearly recorded earlier that day. He hit play and turned up the volume so they could hear.

“—outside the offices of Chauvel Enterprises, where federal investigators have announced the indictment of Arnold Chauvel, Boston media mogul.”

Maggie grabbed his arm. “What?”

“Watch.” Blake gestured.

The reporter continued. “The investigation has apparently been proceeding quietly for several months, but enough evidence has been found to indict. Charges include money laundering, tax evasion, and racketeering. This isn’t the first time Chauvel has faced scrutiny, but unlike previous accusations, these charges have the might of the federal government behind them. According to the prosecuting team, an anonymous source close to Chauvel has turned over records of documents dating back to Chauvel’s father, the late Victor Chauvel, indicating a legacy of questionable business dealings.”

Maggie stared, watching as the tiny screen flicked through images of Chauvel and his father, as the reporter continued to talk about the investigation. Finally, the video ended, and Blake put his phone away. “I just found out about it. Thought it might cap off the night.”