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When I open the back door to the store, music filters in from the front. My skin prickles, spreading outward and down my arms. It’s not just any music making me feel on edge.
It’s a song from the bandHeaven’s A Lie,the album Mia worked on with them nearly twenty years ago.A rock sits heavy in the pit of my stomach because I know it’s not a coincidence that she’s playing this album.How could it be?
Peter dedicated that album to her mother.
Maggie Leone.
It’s printed on the back of the album sleeve.
The music provides an ominous vibe as I throw my keys on the desk and head down the hallway. When I turn the corner, I see Sasha sitting on the metal stairs that lead to my loft, holding the album sleeve in her hands. Her hair is in a knot, earrings swaying against her shoulders before she looks up at me. Her expression makes my heart ache, and she has a wall around her that was never there before.
“Did you know?” she asks, fingering the album, and I can see the corners are bent, as if she’s been fidgeting with it for a while now.
I take a deep breath. “Sasha.”
“All this time, and you never said anything to me,” she says angrily, but it’s the hurt in her eyes that kills me.
I know why her grandparents call her ‘Sunshine’; it’s because she’s like a ray of light brightening up any room she enters, but right now, her soft brown eyes glisten with tears threatening to spill over, and a shadow across her face is directed at me, causing the room to dim.
“I didn’t know,” I try to explain but she doesn’t give me a chance.
“Liar!” she spits, pointing the album at me.
“The name Maggie sounded familiar, but it was twenty years ago,” I explain.
Her eyes flash with anger. “It was two weeks ago when I showed you the engraving on my necklace. I never told you her name before that.” She stands up and walks past me between the aisles.
“Sasha…” I beg her with my eyes to understand how hard this is on me, too.
“We spent the whole day together, shared things with each other, and youfuckedme,” she points upstairs, devastation in her eyes, “knowing,” she sees the protest in my expression, “or suspecting, and said nothing.”
She’s right; I can’t deny it. Once the name Maggie triggered a memory I should have said something, but I didn’t want to let Mia ruin the one thing in my life that I finally got a chance to have for myself; at least not until I was sure.
“I’m sorry,” I say, “but I have my reasons.”
“What’s worse is that not only was this album dedicated to my mother,” she says, holding it between us, “but yourwifeworked on this album.” She throws it to the ground with distaste, and it lands at my feet.
The word breaks open a dam inside of me. “My wife,” I scoff. “My fuckingex-wife!” I yell, gripping the record bin in front of me, wanting to toss it.
As if I ever thought I could escape her. First Jack comes back from Payson handing me her journal, and now PeterfuckingHayes comes back from the past. Of all the girls in the world, she had to be Peter’s daughter.
“You said you didn’t look me up!” I never cared, I expected it, but it was nice to be anonymous with someone for once. That’s why I never told Sasha her name. I might have been able to escape the spotlight, but Mia and Jack never could.
“Not until I saw the album,” she says. “I had to know what else you were keeping from me.”
Her accusation hits hard, and I run my hands through my hair.
“I wanted to be sure. If I told you then, there would have been so many unanswered questions. I needed time-”
“That’s not good enough!” she raises her voice, interrupting me.
“I told you things about my life that I have never told anyone.” I slam my hand onto the record bin, determined to get her to understand the magnitude of what I’ve given her, even if it was only a tiny piece of myself. “I picked up her guitar and played for you. I let you into my life, sleep in my bed, occupy the samespaceshe once did…” I place my hand to my chest as if covering a wound. “Do you think any of this is easy for me?” I plead with her.
All I needed was time.
Her eyes narrow like laser pointers, piercing right through me. “Youletme?” she says, shocked. “Do you want a fucking gold star for letting me into your life when I’ve given youeverything?” she cries.
“Fuck, Sasha.” I pace the aisle, rubbing the back of my neck and stopping in front of her.
