Текст книги "I Do"

Автор книги: A. J. Pine

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 14 страниц)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Maggie

Maggie meant to walk into the restaurant. It was as simple as putting one foot in front of the other, yet there she stood, holding her breath as Griffin approached. She’d shared an apartment with him for a year—shared her heart with him since the moment they’d met—yet he could still make her nervous, so much so that she couldn’t decide if those were butterflies in her belly or just full-blown nausea. Not like he hadn’t seen her lose her lunch before, though, right?

And there it was, the elephant in the room. She had survived a brain aneurysm but was forever changed, and she had learned to live with that—to accept this new version of herself. But Griffin had barely known her more than a year. He was still learning.

“Hey,” he said, stepping outside the door and letting it fall closed behind him.

“Hey,” she replied.

“Can we go somewhere and talk?” he asked, and God how she wanted his easy smile instead of the hesitant one he gave her now, as if her answer determined whether or not that smile remained or fell completely.

“Back to the hotel?” she asked and immediately thought better of it. Things happened when she and Griffin were in a room alone together, and right now she wanted no distractions.

He must have read her afterthought, because when he said, “I just want to talk, Maggie,” she let out a nervous laugh.

“I just don’t want to get…distracted,” she told him.

“I’m good at that?” he asked, and there was the smile, the one that melted her heart and sent a different kind of heat to other…parts.

“You know you are, so just shut up. We’re supposed to be talking.” But Maggie couldn’t suppress her amusement.

Griffin took her hand, threading his fingers through hers, and the action was so unexpected, the touch of his skin so missed by her own, that she gasped.

“May I escort you back to our hotel, Ms. Kendall?”

He squeezed her hand, and the only response she could manage was to simply squeeze back.

Though the air was crisp, there was no breeze. Either the cardigan she had on over her dress was enough to keep her warm, or Griffin’s heat pooled from his palm into hers, warming her from the inside out. She was pretty sure it was the latter, which would make letting go that much harder. And she had to let go. For Griffin to reach his full potential, she had to let him go.

But for the short walk down the brick-laid street, she pretended. Maggie dug into her small purse with her free hand, searching for her camera, but to capture the beauty of the old white buildings, the arched doorways, she’d need the hand that Griffin held, too. The longer she hid behind the camera, captured what was going on in other people’s lives, the longer she could avoid what was happening in her own. Wherever this conversation was headed, she wanted to avoid the destination for as long as possible.

“How about this?” he asked, slowing his pace until they were both stopped in front of a café where patrons sat under heaters at the outside tables. Griffin positioned her in front of him, wrapping his arms around her midsection, and Maggie couldn’t help but lean into him. For balance, for warmth, for the sheer pleasure of just being near him, she pretended some more.

She focused on a brown pillar that extended from an ivory archway, pinpointing a spot where the paint had peeled away.

Click.

The photograph slid out from the bottom of the camera like a serpent’s tongue, and Maggie wasn’t sure she could handle the sting the venom would leave. As the image came into focus, she let out a breath. It wasn’t that she needed the camera like she used to, her short-term memory issues getting better each day. But when a moment presented itself, one she wanted to preserve for the long term, it was important to get it right.

The shot was wide, the small spot on the pillar in focus, but the swarm of people around it a colorful blur.

She dropped the camera back into her purse and handed Griffin the photograph before starting to walk again.

“This is really good, Pippi,” he said, and her heart leapt just a little at the sound of his nickname for her. They would get through this talk, and then they could be Pippi and Fancy Pants for the remainder of the trip. Hell, they could pretend for eight more months if she wanted, but they had to lay it all on the table now before they could get through the rest.

“That’s what Washington will be for you—a beautiful, amazing, chaotic blur.”

“Maggie, don’t…” he started, and she spun to face him.

“Don’t what? Be realistic? Come on. This?” She motioned between them. “This isn’t a fantasy. It’s work. That’s why you didn’t tell me about Washington, and that’s why you’re trying to convince yourself that you weren’t seriously considering it in the first place because you know it will be the kind of work that you might not be cut out for—that we might not be cut out for. I get it, Griffin. I get it, and I don’t blame you, and I’m not letting you say no to something you deserve…because of me.”

“Maggie,” he said again, but she wasn’t going to let him argue against his own best interest.

“Look at where we are,” she said, throwing her arms out wide and spinning around, her surroundings a blurred vision of pale concrete. “We are missing this because of us. I can’t ask you to miss out on your future, too.”

Griffin’s jaw ticked, and his eyes darkened.

“Like you missed the wedding?” he asked.

“What?”

“The wedding,” Griffin repeated. “Every second of every minute of every freaking hour we were apart today, I looked for you, but you weren’t there. I know you’re angry, but it isn’t like you to bail.”

Maggie plunged her hand into her purse and thrust a stack of mini Polaroids at him.

“Here’s how much I bailed,” she said, smacking the pile against his chest. She waited for him to look at the photos, for his eyes to widen.

“Maggie—” he started, but she interrupted him by shaking her head.

“I’m going to walk the rest of the way on my own, okay?”

What was happening with them? After everything, how could he think she’d bail on him? She set off alone, making it to the hotel in what felt like the space of a few labored breaths, the rest of the walk a blur.

Once inside the room, she pressed the door shut and whacked her head against it. Shit. That was sure to be the express lane to a headache. Then came the pacing, and after that the mumbling to herself.

“Bailed? I can’t believe he would think I was capable of missing anything this important. No matter what’s going on with us, I would never miss out on such a big part of his life. Bailed.”

She groaned.

“Are you through?”

Maggie jumped and spun toward the door where Griffin leaned against it, arms crossed.

Her mouth fell open, but of course now the words wouldn’t come.

Griffin took a step toward her, and she held her ground. Another step, close enough for her to smell the apple scent of the shampoo they now shared.

“Being apart from you last night was hell,” he said, and although she was standing firm, all Maggie could do was nod. Because yes, it was hell.

There had been nights she’d come home to a sleeping Griffin and woken to an empty bed, him already gone for work while she slept in before a late class. There was that long weekend she went to Florida to visit her gran while Griffin was swamped with a project and had to stay back in Minneapolis. And she had missed him. But the light at the end of the tunnel was that they’d be back together.

But last night? Last night felt like the beginning of the end of…something. And that, Maggie realized, was her hell. The possibility of a life without Griffin.

“This one is my favorite,” he said, handing her back one of the photos. She remembered sneaking out of the pew to get this shot, one where she had to squat to get the right angle to capture Griffin in his jacket and kilt behind the groom as the priest recited the wedding prayers. She’d been so focused on making sure she could see him from head to toe that she’d missed his expression—or the change in it.

“You were smiling when I set up the shot,” she said. “Smiling and watching Duncan and Elaina, but you aren’t even looking at them here.”

Griffin shook his head.

“I was looking for you,” he said.

“I didn’t bail,” she told him.

“I know.” He let out a long breath. “And I’m not bailing on you, either.”

Maggie held the photo against her chest. She’d had such a great argument prepared for this moment, and she was summoning the words to explain why he had to go, but Griffin never gave her a chance.

“What if I came down with the flu, right here and now?” he asked, and just as Maggie thought she was going to turn into a puddle of tears, she laughed.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“What if we get home, and I slip on some black ice and break my leg?”

“I know what you’re doing,” she said. “It’s not the same.”

He cocked a brow. “Answer the question, Pippi. If something happened to me, what would you do?”

She rolled her eyes. “I’d take care of you.”

The corners of his mouth turned up.

“And if I did break my leg because I fell on black ice, how would you feel about my taking a leisurely winter stroll after I was healed?”

She grabbed his hand and slapped the photograph into his palm.

“This isn’t fair,” she told him. “All of these what ifs aren’t fair. You know going in, that if I come with you, you’re going to spend energy worrying about me that could be better spent on your new job.”

Again he stepped closer, and she had nowhere left to go but against the wall behind her.

“Maggie, I’m going to worry about you whether you are in D.C. or Minneapolis, whether you are in the bed next to me or in another apartment hundreds of miles away. Don’t you get it? I love you. Above any other person or city or job—you matter most. Maybe I was scared to tell you the truth, and you’re right. I shouldn’t have kept any of it from you, and I’m a shit for doing that.”

His palms were on her cheeks now. He was dangerously close to distracting her, and she had to stay focused.

“I was scared,” Griffin said, and she closed her eyes and nodded. She knew fear all too well, knew that she was letting it take the lead with her as much as Griffin had let it with him. “And I’m still scared now—terrified, actually. But not for the reason you think.”

At this her eyes fluttered open, and Griffin’s gaze held her there, frozen in wait for what came next.

“Maggie, I’m not afraid of what will happen if you come with me to D.C. I’m scared of what will happen if you don’t.”

He kissed her then, and she couldn’t do anything but kiss him back, this infuriating man who said all these things that made it impossible for her to stay mad at him.

“You’re everything, Maggie. Everything. I may not have a ring to give you yet, but you have my heart. You have every part of me. It’s not a choice—Washington or you.” His lips found hers again, and then they were on her jaw, her neck, the lobe of her ear. “There is no Washington without you,” he whispered against her. “I know it’s not your dream and that you still have graduation, and if you decide it’s too much…”

“I’ll go with you!” she blurted, and then her hand flew to her mouth as if the sentence escaped her lips without permission.

“What?” Griffin’s voice cracked on the word, and her heart pretty much turned to goo.

“I’m going with you to Washington,” she said, this time with conviction, and Griffin pulled back, his brows furrowing.

“I’d like to instate the WILD card,” he said, “just to be sure,” and Maggie bit her lip.

Ever since the night he’d won her over with a deck of UNO cards, the WILD card had always meant one of them got to ask a question and the other had to answer truthfully, no holds barred.

“Okay…” she said softly, and Griffin cleared his throat.

“Are you coming with me because I pushed too hard?” he asked, and Maggie shook her head.

“Are you coming with me out of guilt?”

“No.”

“Are you coming with me because my legs look ridiculously sexy in a kilt?” He waggled his brows, and her expression broke into a smile.

“Are you planning on wearing the kilt in D.C.?” she asked.

“Not unless you require it.” He was smiling with her now.

“Then no,” she said. He opened his mouth again, but she pressed a finger to it. “I’m going with you because you’re everything, Griffin. Because even though I’ll always be afraid of the unknown, my future isn’t tied to Minneapolis or Florida or Washington, D.C., or any one place.” She ran a hand through his sandy waves, her palm resting on the back of his neck. “But it is tied to you.”

He grinned. “And why is that?”

“Because I love you, Fancy Pants.” Like he had to ask. She gave him a playful push.

“Hey…”

But she silenced him with a kiss, and Griffin pressed his whole body to hers as she parted her lips, and his tongue slipped past to tangle with hers.

In seconds, Maggie felt him firm against her, and her brows shot into outer space.

“You’re…you’re Irish,” she told him, and Griffin took a small step back.

“Aye, love,” he said in an exaggerated brogue, eyes dark with need. “But for about eight more hours, I get to be a true Scotsman.”

Maggie’s eyes fell to Griffin’s kilt, and she licked her lips, then swallowed, her throat suddenly dry as the desert. And Griffin Reed, Scottish for a day, was the only thing that could quench her thirst.

She pushed off the wall and closed the small distance between them, laying her palm over the part of the kilt where she’d felt him moments before. He sucked in a breath.

“You’re not wearing one of those purse thingies,” she said, and he shook his head.

“Pockets in the jacket,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Plus, easier access for—” He sucked in a breath, losing his words completely as Maggie found the overlap in the tartan and slid her hand behind it, where she discovered the treasure she sought, her hand wrapping around his solid length.

“Easier access for whom?” she asked, and he let out a delicious groan.

“You, Pippi. Only and always you.”

He dipped his head and kissed her—soft, sweet, expectant. But when her hand slid up his length, that sweetness turned to hunger, and Maggie’s core burned with desire. She wasn’t sure who needed whom more.

“Got anything interesting in those pockets?” she asked as he rocked into her palm and she stumbled back against the wall.

“Just for you, sweetheart.” And Maggie’s photographs rained onto the floor around them as he produced what she considered the best of the sights so far—a condom.

“Shit,” he said. “Your photos, I’m sorry…”

But she had already grabbed and torn open the foil wrapper.

“I’m not worried about the moments that have already passed,” she told him as she rolled the condom down his length. “I just want to enjoy the ones that are happening now.”

Griffin gripped her thighs and slid her dress up over her hips. He hooked a finger under the hem of her panties and tugged, sliding them down her freckled thighs and to the floor, where she promptly stepped out of them. He was squatting now, and as he rose to meet her again, he placed a soft kiss between her legs, and Maggie let out a small cry.

“Where were we?” he asked once he was standing again. “Oh, that’s right.” He hiked her dress up again, and Maggie followed suit, raising the kilt to expose Griffin’s erection. Then he lifted her onto him, and he sank inside her with ease, a perfect fit.

For the first time that day, Maggie was grateful for her toe-pinching heels. She hadn’t anticipated this benefit, Griffin taking her up against a wall, but damn if these weren’t going to be her favorite shoes from this day forward.

“Is this okay?” he asked, and she giggled that they were so in sync, not only physically but in their thoughts as well.

“Heels,” she told him, and his lips parted in a smile against her.

“But is this okay?” he asked, and Maggie felt his hand leave her hip. Then it slid between them, Griffin’s thumb swirling over her as he plunged deep into her core.

Her only response was a gasp as she felt her muscles tighten around him.

“Christ, Maggie,” he hissed, and those were the last words he spoke as they tested the boundaries of this new position, of Maggie’s balance and Griffin’s persistence until finally, she rode him home.

Home. That’s what it was all about, wasn’t it? She got it now, really got it, this whole loving-someone thing. It didn’t matter where they were or what stage in their lives they were in.

“You’re my home,” she whispered as she clung to him on trembling legs.

Griffin kissed her…and kissed her…and though he had finished with her, it was as if he still couldn’t get enough.

“And you’re mine, Pippi. You’ll always be mine.”

Chapter Thirty

Miles

The official pre-dinner serving had begun. Waitstaff circled the main room of the restaurant, which had been transformed into a ballroom, tables and chairs wrapped in white, circling a small dance floor that at the moment stood empty.

Miles had just drained one champagne flute and was exchanging it for a new one when he felt a palm against the small of his back.

“I am off the clock for the rest of the evening.” Alex’s warm breath tickled the hairs on his neck. “Any suggestions on how I should spend my time?”

Another server approached, prompting Miles to treat glass number two like a shot of ouzo. He tipped his head back and swallowed the bubbling liquid in one long gulp. When the serving tray was in reach, he deposited his empty glass but was stopped short from snagging another as Alex’s hand wrapped around his wrist. Finally Miles turned to face him.

“What’s the rush?” Alex asked. “We at least have to make it until midnight.”

Alex grinned, but Miles wasn’t following.

“It’s New Year’s Eve, Miles. Who’s going to finish the countdown with me if you consume a bottle of bubbly before dinner?”

Miles found another server coming from the opposite direction, and with his free hand he snagged his third drink.

“Cheers,” he said, raising his glass. I think I’d rather count flutes.

This wasn’t the truth. Miles wanted nothing more than to kiss Alex at midnight, but once that happened, he knew what came next. Good-bye. His heart-to-heart with Maggie and Jordan had buoyed him to action. He had let Alex in. But the closer they got to midnight, the closer they got to the one variable in the equation Miles couldn’t work around—good-bye.

At least he sipped this glass. He could be civilized. After all, it was only five o’clock. To be drunk at a wedding before the sun had completely set? Well, Miles had some standards.

Alex crossed his arms and gave him the once-over.

“You do wear everything well, don’t you?” Alex asked. “But this just needs a little…” And he reached for the knot on Miles’s tie, maybe straightening it or maybe just looking for an excuse to make physical contact.

Alex himself wasn’t wearing a tie, just a crisp white shirt under a tailored charcoal gray suit. He hadn’t shaved, and Miles tried to ignore how the stubble on his jaw made him even more attractive. The look was effortless and at the same time made Alex seem as if he’d walked off the page of a fashion magazine. The bastard. This was why Miles needed more to drink. Maybe the champagne goggles would make Alex less attractive.

“Try this,” Alex said, grabbing an hors d’oeuvre from a passing waiter and bringing it to Miles’s lips. Without thinking, Miles opened his mouth and let him drop the small puffed pastry on his tongue.

“It’s just spanakopita, nothing too complex. But I do hear the chef has a secret ingredient that keeps the masses coming back for more.”

His eyes fluttered closed as his teeth sank into the flaky crust to find the sautéed spinach and feta. Miles had bought the frozen version enough times to know the food, but he also believed Alex and his secret ingredient tease because everything this man made kept topping his list of best thing he ever tasted.

Note to self…more champagne will make his food less attractive, too, right?

“What’s going on, Miles?”

Shit. He used to have the best poker face. Hell, his everyday face was his poker face. No one ever knew what was going on behind the ever-present grin. Maggie was the closest anyone ever got, but even she received the Miles Show every now and then.

“It’s all good,” he responded. “Good food, good drink, good-looking guy at my side…what more could I want?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said. “Sounds like a pretty good night ahead of you, so why the whole asshole routine?”

Miles raised his brows, then took a sip of his champagne.

“That’s just it. It’s not a routine,” he said. “This is the guy you should have met on the plane, so I’m introducing him to you now.” He held his free hand out as if to shake. “Miles Parker. Nice to meet you.”

But Alex didn’t extend his hand.

“Jesus, Miles. You act like I asked you to move in or something. I asked for a weekend. A fucking weekend. And you’re bailing after twenty-four hours.”

He shrugged. “I’m leaving in the morning anyway. Why not get good-byes out of the way now?” As he said the words, Miles tasted the venom he spat in Alex’s direction, and he hated himself for it. But this was best for both of them. An attachment had been formed, and they both had to know it. Miles was severing it before it became too much.

“You’re absolutely right,” Alex said, and his lips pressed into a thin line. “It was nice to meet you, Miles—at least the Miles I met yesterday. Say good-bye to him for me.” He held up his glass and then drained the rest of it in a gulp. “And you,” Alex continued, “you enjoy your last few hours alone.”

And just like that, Alex walked away.

Miles nursed a Heineken now, the taste of champagne having soured. He was pretty sure he’d reached the topmost level of assholery he’d ever aspired to. But what was the point of prolonging the agony of leaving when he could leave now and drown said leaving at an open bar?

Elaina’s father appeared in the center of the dance floor, his presence alone almost enough to silence the crowd. Miles crossed his fingers that he, too, would sport thick waves of salt and pepper when he was—what? Hosting his own daughter’s wedding? He laughed under his breath, a bitter sound. It wasn’t likely he’d be the kind of parent to grow old with his partner, contemplating empty nesting. He was more likely to be an empty nester for life.

Mr. Tripoli’s broad build masked his slight paunch well enough. And shouldn’t a chef boast a full belly? Ha! There was a strike against Alex—a body too perfect for that of someone you’d trust to prepare your food. Who trusted a chef who looked like he didn’t eat his own creations?

Jesus, he was grasping now. Looking for fault and failing miserably.

“Friends and loved ones,” began Elaina’s father in thick, accented English, his booming voice needing no microphone. “Please join me in welcoming my daughter, Elaina…and now my son, Duncan! Eat and drink, please. And celebrate! Giortazo!”

Guests halted where they were, glasses raised and faces painted with smiles, to watch the grand entrance of the newlyweds. But try as he might, Miles, for once, couldn’t fake it. He raised his bottle, but the smile wouldn’t come. Not when Elaina and Duncan walked in beaming; not when Jordan and Noah entered arm-in-arm, the light catching the engagement ring that had found its way back onto Jordan’s finger; and certainly not after Thea walked in alone, her wedding party counterpart, Griffin, visibly missing from her side—only for him and Maggie to come running in at the last minute, Maggie’s face a glowing giveaway as to why they were late.

The corners of his lips turned up, and Miles gave himself a mental pat on the back. He could still muster happiness for his friend despite what was certainly not envy at everyone’s successful happy coupling.

The American contingent made its way to his table.

“Greetings,” he said as Maggie pulled out the chair next to him. Griffin adjusted his kilt and took the seat on her other side. “Pink and green suits you, Mags.”

Maggie’s brows furrowed. “My dress is only green, Miles. Wait, did I spill something? I didn’t eat any—” She backhanded him on the shoulder. “You’re an asshole,” she said, and Miles chuckled.

“Don’t worry. No one other than Reed and me know you’re freshly f—”

“Jesus, Parker,” Griffin said. “Maybe you’d better slow down.” He nodded to the bottle in Miles’s hand. “And best friend or not, if I ever hear you say something like that to Maggie again…”

Miles held up his hands in surrender. “You’re right,” he said. “Shit, Maggie. I’m sorry.”

Noah and Jordan approached on Miles’s right, and it was then that he noticed Jordan was limping.

He eyed the other happy couple. “Do I even want to ask?”

Jordan giggled as Noah helped her into her seat.

“Nope,” she said, her smile permanently plastered to her face.

Miles slid his chair out and stood up.

“You know what, Reed? I think you’re wrong. I think I’m going too slow.”

He could make it through the night, but not if he had to sit in the middle of this…this circle of bliss.

He was barely to the bar when Maggie caught up with him, and he had to force himself to face her.

“Mags, I’m sorry. What I said—there was no excuse for that.”

She skimmed her fingertips along his hairline and then cupped his cheek, the touch so full of love that his breath hitched.

“How did I get lucky enough not to scare you off?” he asked.

Maggie smacked his arm again.

“Hey! I deserved the one at the table,” he said. “But what was that for?”

Maggie grabbed the almost empty Heineken from his hand and set it down on the bar.

“Because this isn’t you, Miles Parker. I’ve never seen this guy before. You want to know why I love you so much?” She paused and waited for him to nod, which he did, accepting his scolding. Relishing it, actually. Someone needed to be a dick to him for how much of a dick he was to Alex.

Okay, so Maggie wasn’t a dick, but she was lovingly pissed, and that was close enough.

“I love you because you have the biggest heart. Because you’re loyal. And because you helped teach me not to let my fear keep me from going after what I want.” She paused again, but this time he could tell she wasn’t waiting for anything from him. Her smile fell, and she started twirling a lock of her fiery hair. She was hesitating.

“Just say whatever you need to say, Mags. Nothing can sink me lower than I’ve already sunk.”

She rolled her eyes. “Great,” she said. “I’ll just be the nail in the coffin of your shit day, then? Excellent.”

He grabbed her hand and squeezed.

“Thought you had a grip on the fear,” he said. “More than I do on the drama, I guess.” He chuckled, and this seemed to encourage her.

“I’m leaving Minneapolis,” she said, squeezing his hand back, and Miles’s throat tightened.

“You’re going to D.C. with Griffin.”

She nodded, and he felt the ridiculous hot sting of tears. Christ, what was wrong with him? This was what he wanted for Maggie. This was what he told her she should do. But on some level he had hoped she wouldn’t. Because Maggie staying would be a reason for him to stay—a reason for him to ignore what was missing from his life by focusing on someone else’s.

“This is good news,” he said, and he watched her swipe at a tear.

“Then why do you look so sad?” she asked, and he bit down hard on the inside of his cheek. Then he groaned.

“Because I’m a sad excuse for a human right now. Because if you didn’t go with him, you’d end up like me. And as much as I’ll miss you, I would never want that for you.”

She wrapped him in a tight embrace, and he let out a shuddering breath as he squeezed her back. He knew when he let go that this would be the beginning of the end. Of all the people in his life, she was the closest thing to home. He’d been veering off course for years now. Without Maggie, he feared he’d be utterly lost. But that was not her burden to bear.

He pushed her from him, his hands firm on her shoulders.

“I’m happy for you, Mags. Do you get that? This is what I want for you.”

She pulled him close again.

“I love you, Miles.”

“I love you, too,” he said.

He didn’t want to know if she heard his voice crack on that pivotal word. It had been so easy to say it to her in the past. She was his closest friend, and he knew she would never leave. That was enough for him to hand over a little piece of his heart.

Little pieces could break, too. This wasn’t what surprised him, though. What caught him off guard was the realization that he wouldn’t have done it any differently. Things with Maggie would be different once she left. And yes, it would hurt like hell to say good-bye. But he would never give up the five years he spent letting her burrow into that tiny place in his heart. He wouldn’t trade the hurt for never knowing her at all.

“Shit,” he said.

Maggie pulled free of his embrace. “What?”

“Well, I’m twenty-six years old, and I think—maybe—I just fucking grew up.”

Maggie laughed. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

He shook his head, more at himself than anything.

“Would have been good if it happened before I royally fucked things up.”

Her grin only grew wider.

“Miles Parker…” Her voice took on a teasing lilt. “Are you falling for a boy you met on a plane?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “That’s crazy, right? I mean, not just the meeting-him-yesterday part. But he lives in Greece.”

Maggie nodded. “I can see where that might make things difficult. What are your plans after earning that PhD this spring?”

“Maggie…”

“Do you have a job lined up? I know you wanted to teach. At a university. I hear they have those here.”

He laughed. “I just basically told the guy to fuck off. I don’t think he’s asking me to move in anytime soon.”

Maggie raised a brow. “But if you tell him how you feel and that you’re all grown up now, and maybe bat those gorgeous baby blues, he might forgive you. You’ve got five months of school left. Who knows what could happen between now and then?”

He straightened his tie, then loosened it. Then he tore the fucking thing off.

“You’re cute when you’re falling for someone,” she said.

“Shut up. I’m a fucking mess. Are you going to be okay if I go? I need to find Alex. Does this look okay without the tie? Jesus, my palms are sweating.”

She stood on her toes and pecked him on the cheek.