LIMITLESS

Maggie

I WOKE THAT MORNING FEELING whole for the first time.

My bags were packed, and my plan was set. The sun was shining, the sky a shade of cornflower blue and clouds high. It was limitless. I was limitless.

I kissed my parents goodbye at the gate. Walked through the terminal with certainty in every step, as if every single one was predestined. Like I was always meant to go back to him. As if my future had already been laid out before me — I only had to step onto the path and follow it back to him.

I’d never been so sure of anything. Not in all my life.

The plane ride back was a quiet, reverent trip that I spent looking out the window again with my headphones on. Every lyric, every song was about him, about me, about us. First stop, Jackson. Next stop, Shangri-La, M. Ward sang like he knew me.

When we landed in New York, I felt like I was home. I took the cab to Astrid’s and sat in a chair as a makeup artist buzzed around me. I put on the most beautiful dress I’d ever worn in my life and slipped into the empty backseat of the Mercedes, sharing a conspiratorial smile with Bobby. And then we zoomed through Manhattan, back to him.

HOME

Cooper

FLASHES STROBED AS I WALKED the red carpet at the Met Gala, hand in the pants pocket of my Armani suit, The Smile glued to my face, wondering where the hell Astrid was. She was late, which wasn’t unusual for her, but she wasn’t answering my texts, which was definitely unusual.

The Gala’s theme was Spellbound, and the designers and dresses didn’t disappoint. There were opulent fairy tale ball gowns, women in pantsuits inspired by period clothing, reminiscent of princes. One pop star, who was partly known for her outrageous costumes, was dressed as Rapunzel wearing a dress made out of blond hair. Her wig was connected to the dress that looked like hair wrapped around her body, peppered with flowers and braids, which was somehow not creepy. Most of the men didn’t participate like the curmudgeons we were, wearing our suits like we’d wear anywhere, though I noted far more top hats in the crowd than usual.

I paused for photos as I spanned the length of the carpet and made my way inside, straight to the bar for a scotch, pulling my phone out of my pocket to check on Astrid again as I waited for my drink. A text from her waited on my lock screen.

Hey, sorry. I’ll be there soon, held up with an emergency. Everything’s okay. I’ll explain later.

I frowned and texted her back to know I’d gotten it before slipping my phone back in my pocket. It was strange enough that she didn’t want to ride together — meeting me at an event was out of the ordinary. It was the whole point of the charade, in fact. I took a sip of my drink and paced through the throng of celebrities and socialites, saying hellos, shaking hands, laying false kisses on the cheeks of the women I knew, wishing Astrid were there — my security. My partner in crime. But she wasn’t, so I settled on Ash and entourage to occupy me.

But my mind wandered, my eyes roamed the crowd and the dresses on display throughout the room. It had been two days since Maggie had gotten the package. Two days of waiting patiently to hear from her. Of working for my father, grateful for something to keep me busy. I was grateful for the Gala, too. Grateful to stand next to Ash, who would keep my thoughts from her. Until the moment when I couldn’t hide from her anymore. The moment when I didn’t need to.

I felt her before I saw her.

I turned toward the entrance, my eyes finding her like I knew she was there, like she’d always been there. Her long earrings swung as she scanned the crowd, hanging just longer than her wild hair, and my eyes drank her in — her dress long, cut low and fitted, covered in strings of sparkling beads, draped to make her look like she was covered in a delicate spiderweb covered in dew. Her eyes burned bright and blue, lined with smokey kohl, and when they found mine, there was no one else, nothing else, not in the entire universe.

My axis shifted. Gravity took hold. My compass stopped spinning.

I don’t remember moving, only that she was in my arms. My eyes roamed her face, the face that graced my dreams, my thoughts every day. I wouldn’t have believed she was real if not for the weight of her against me.

“You came back,” I whispered.

“I had to. I’m sorry—”

“Don’t. Don’t apologize. You’re here.”

She smiled. “I’m here.”

I slipped a hand into her hair, resting my thumb on her cheek. “I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

“I’m sorry I ran away. I was afraid. But I’m not anymore. I trust you, Cooper. I believe you. I just hope you can trust me after everything I’ve done. I was cruel. I hurt you to push you away, but I never doubted you.”

“I know. I knew even when you didn’t.”

She laid a hand over mine, her eyes shining with tears.

“It was why I went after you. It’s why I wouldn’t stop trying. I won’t ever stop, Maggie. I need you, and if there’s a chance for us, I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll wait. I’ll beg. I’ll fight for you. I’ll do anything to make you mine.”

“But that’s what I need you to know. I’ve been yours from the start — I was just too broken to see the truth. But now … now I can give myself to you. I love you, Cooper, and if you want me, I’m yours.”

I closed my eyes and took a breath, opening them to find her still in my arms. And then I kissed her, and she kissed me, without a single demand, a single expectation. Just a simple kiss from the girl who loved me.

I broke away, pressed my forehead to hers, smiled down at her, acknowledging distantly that people were staring and cameras flashed away. But I didn’t care. There was no more reason to hide, no reason to pretend.

I was free.

Her eyes were bright and sparkling as she looked up at me smiling with her hands on my chest. “What do we do now, Mr. M?”

I squeezed her tighter. “Now? Now we drink. We eat. We dance. And then, I’m going to take you away from here.”

“Where will we go?”

My fingers found a curl near her face and slipped it through my fingers. “Anywhere you want.”

Her smile stretched wider. “First, take me home.”

“Which home?”

“Yours,” she said simply. “Home is where you are.”

A breathy laugh escaped me, and when I kissed her again, I felt the truth of her words in my heart.

I was home.

Maggie

Cooper swept me around the crowd, introducing me to celebrity after celebrity, the upper echelon of New York society. Somehow, I didn’t get ruffled, even though the whole affair was overwhelming. I just smiled and treated them like anyone else. They’re just people, after all, so I shook their hands and kissed their cheeks, asked them questions about their lives without prying or acting starstruck. Even the cold ones warmed up a little.

The dresses were brilliant, and every one had a story. They all asked me about mine — Astrid’s — so many awestruck by the craftsmanship, the detail. And the story was this.

In one of the many retellings of Cinderella, her fairy godmother made her dress from silken strands from spiderwebs and dew. And so Galliano designed the dress around the idea presented by Astrid — a 20s inspired gown, fitted and simple, with hundreds of strings of sparkling beads in varying sizes, all draped around the bodice and skirt to look like delicate, dewy spiderwebs that swung gently when I walked.