Chapter Text
Scott
“You’re gonna fall asleep.” A sly smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Just like last time—“
“— And the time before and the time before…” She trailed off sleepily.
The bed was a mess of sheets, fluffy blankets, and intertwined limbs. She nuzzled into his chest, he sighed contentedly and pulled her close. The world outside had disappeared long ago. Right now it was just them, just this moment, two people that were made for each other.
Perfect.
Scott gently kissed the top of her head, intoxicated by her. Lavender and just a hint of vanilla — the only thing he wanted to smell for the rest of his life. He twirled a strand of her soft, chestnut hair around his fingers. He’d give anything in the world to freeze this moment and stay here in this bed with her for eternity.
Perfect.
I love you. The words floated through his mind and he’d never been more sure of anything in his life. She was his one, his everything. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to be hers forever.
Perfect.
“Maggie?” He called quietly.
The only reply was her soft breathing.
“Mags?” He prodded again.
She snored faintly and snuggled in closer, settling into a restful sleep
“I love you.” He whispered into the top of her hair. His heart swelled. Tomorrow she’d be awake and he’d confess all of the feelings he’d had trouble putting into words.
Perfect.
***
Cold.
Fitfully, he rolled over and burrowed down deeper under the covers. He snaked his arm out but didn’t find her curled up next to him. Scott stretched further — nothing.
“Mags?” He murmured, still groping around for her.
He forced his eyes open and saw the glaring emptiness of her side of the bed. “Mags? You in the bathroom?”
Silence.
“Maggie?”
Silence.
He propped himself up on one arm, eyes scanning around the room. When he saw the paper a cold, sinking dread filled his stomach. It was small and unassuming but it was wrong. Everything about it was wrong. It didn’t belong on her pillow. It didn’t belong anywhere in this room — anywhere in this world.
It was only five words. Five simple words that blew up his entire life:
I love you. I’m sorry.
***
Scott froze when his fingers brushed along the tattered old edge of paper. Even though it was folded up he knew exactly what the faded prose inside said. Five simple words.
“Scott? Scott? You okay there buddy?”
“Huh? Oh yeah — sorry! And heeeeeere it is!” He flipped past the note in his wallet and pulled out his old college ID card. Scott handed it to Erika with a flourish.
“Aw!” She gushed. “Look at little baby Scott!”
“Hahahaha yeah.” He blushed slightly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t judge the hair, okay? It was the style at the time.”
“Oh no, it’s absolutely perfect! It’ll make a great addition to your article. Thanks for letting me borrow this!” Erika slipped the card into her pocket. “The last thing I need is a couple of pictures of you around the museum in your natural environment doing—“ she paused, gesturing around the exhibit hall. “— doing museum stuff. Macy said she could come by tomorrow and grab some. That work?”
“Of course. I’ll make sure to have lots of museum stuff going on.” His usual, bright smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but Erika took no notice.
“Sounds good, can’t wait!” With that, she strode off, already focused on her next task.
Get it together.
Once she was out of sight he glanced down at his wallet, running his fingers along the crumpled edge of paper he had stashed in there.
C’mon man, shake it off.
It had been hiding in an ancient, dust covered shoe box shoved deep in the back of his closet. In fact, he was pretty sure the last time it had been touched was the day that he had unpacked and placed it there. Erika had insisted on using a collage of pictures for her monthly town board posting — the “Starlet Star” where she did a feature on a different town resident. This month she’d chosen him because of all the recent updates to the museum he’d championed.
Scott was sure he’d kept a bunch of Polaroids from his college days somewhere and that shoebox had seemed promising. He rummaged through the box — a bunch of old receipts for textbooks, a copy of his dissertation outline, random trinkets and then he spotted his old student ID.
Hmmmm, getting close. He flipped the ID over in his hands, amused at his dorky picture. There’s gotta be better—
He froze. There it was underneath where his ID had been. The note that had changed everything. Searing cold dread pooled in the pit of his stomach as he reached for it. Memories he’d long buried surged forward and his breath caught in his throat. It felt like he was drowning.
He wanted to crumple it up, throw it away, set it on fire, launch it into space, anything that would put distance between him and those five little words. But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to put it down. Instead he shoved it into his wallet along with his student ID.
That’ll have to do.
There was no way he was going through anything else in that box. If there were pictures of his college days in there, they could stay buried. The ID would have to be enough.
He fought the overwhelming urge to take off running without looking back and instead took the longer path to work. The cool morning air did wonders to clear his head, to ground him, remind him of how far he’d come.
And now here he was — surrounded by dinosaur skeletons. He could feel their non-existent eyes staring down at him and suddenly he felt so small. Scott turned and glared at the skeleton closest to him. “What’re you looking at?” He growled half heartedly.
“Probably the strange man talking to himself in the middle of the museum, or nothing, because you know — it has no eyes.” Millie quirked an eyebrow. “You doing okay?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry, I just —“ He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t heard her walk in. And there it was, the heat of embarrassment crawling up into the pit of his stomach. Luckily for him, there wasn’t much room left after the dread had taken up residence. He rubbed the back of his neck again. “— I just — honestly, I have no good excuse.” His eyes crinkled as he laughed it off.
Get. It. Together. He commanded himself.
“Riiiight…” Mille propped her hand up on her hip. “Don’t go getting all weird on me now that you’re a town big shot with a fancy article.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it!”
“I still need your balance sheets. They were due Wednesday. Like they’ve been due every Wednesday since — well, since forever.”
“Are you sure? That doesn’t seem right. I distinctly remember a conversation about them being due on Friday….” He knew he was wrong, but he wasn’t about to admit it
“Nope. Wednesday. It’s always been Wednesday. You just repeatedly turn them in on Fridays anyways. I send you an email on Monday as a heads up, a meeting request to discuss any changes to the sheets on Tuesday — which you accept but never attend — and a calendar reminder that screams “budget sheets due today” every Wednesday.” Millie held up three fingers and put one down for each of the reminders she listed off.
“Oh, hmm, I always wondered what those meetings were for.” Scott played dumb. “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of those calendar reminders, I would’ve—“
“You have to manually click out of them every time they fire.” She wasn’t having his excuses. “There’s no way you don’t see them.”
“Oooooh now that’s ringing a bell. I thought my computer had some weird little virus and I—“
“Budget. Sheets. Now.”
“Okay, okay.” Scott conceded. “Honestly Millie, it’s been nice catching up with you but it’s really eating into my admin time. You see, I have this boss who is on me about budget sheets — for some reason she’s convinced they’re due on Wednesday— so I really must be going before I fall behind.” He winked deviously.
Her exasperated sigh filled the exhibit hall as she threw up her hands, turned on heel, and walked out. “Wednesday, Scott, Wednesday!” She cried out over her shoulder.