by Aria Ford
All the same, as I heard his feet slowly walk down the hall and the sound as the elevator door opened, I felt a glow of pure joy fill my body.
I had spent the night with Maddox. And, I realized as I made my coffee, a song on my lips as I moved about the kitchen, I was as close as ever to completely, utterly and totally, falling for him.
In fact, I thought as I stirred my coffee, lost in sweet memory, I had already done that. It was a wonderful feeling. I didn’t think I’d ever stop smiling.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Maddox
I drove to my apartment in half-awake haze of wonder. I wasn’t aware of anything—the cars, the buses, the pedestrians, the grayish fog of early morning as the sun slowly rose. All I was aware of was my own sweet memories.
So many memories of her. The way her body felt under mine. The way she tasted when I kissed her. The sweet sound she made when I entered her.
I went into my apartment and blinked. It was exactly the same as it had been when I left it the previous morning, but everything seemed so alien, as if someone else lived here for the last three years; someone I’d seen before and knew but never was.
I am not the same person as I was when I went out.
I stared at myself in the mirror. It was me, alright—the same hooded eyes and thin-lipped mouth, the strawberry-pale hair, and the same slightly tight-fitting suit. But inside I was different.
Last time I was here, I was still trying to tell myself I didn’t care about Macy anymore.
This time, I knew that I loved her.
“Wow.”
It was all I could say. I went through to make coffee and, while the kettle was on, I changed out of the suit into my normal work gear. I checked my schedule—I had to meet a client for a run at nine. It was 8:40 A.M. now. I quickly slid on my running gear and scrambled around the kitchen for a quick breakfast.
As I left the house, running to the bus stop to warm up, I relived the memories from that night. It had been completely surreal. From that magical evening when I had sat with her, talked with her—when I had danced with her, for goodness’ sakes—to the drive home and all that happened next. I felt as if something magical had happened; some ray of sunshine from another world breaking in on my ordinary life.
In the park, I saw my client, George Blake, waiting. I waved.
“Hey,” I called. A tall, spare man with the body of a marathon runner—if only he could find more time away from his work as a high-powered financier—he waved back.
“Hey.”
We set off together. I was trying to keep an eye on my client, trying not to push him or let him sink into the habit that he had of dragging his left leg that always resulted in a bad strain afterward. My mind wasn’t letting me do my job very well, though. It was preoccupied with memories of that night I’d just had. That unbelievable night.
As we rounded the edge of the park and headed out onto the street, sticking to the nice wide pavement on the right, I felt my own legs stretching and checked the time. We’d been at it for about half an hour already. George was looking surprisingly peaceful. When I first met him, he would have been sweating by now, but now he barely looked strained. I nodded to him.
“Great,” I said. He nodded back, breathing deep and regularly. As I thought earlier, he could be a great runner if he had time.
We rounded the block and headed back, planning on a circuit of the park again. When we finally stopped, stretching and sweating, my legs cramping just a little in the early morning cold air, he smiled at me.
“You look happy this morning,” he said mildly.
I blinked, surprised it was so obvious. “Thanks,” I said. I felt shy about it and found myself looking at the path, dotted here and there with patches of dew.
“A lovely morning,” he continued, bending to stretch his hamstrings.
“Uh huh,” I agreed, lunging to ease out the cramp in my calves.
“Springtime’s here, I reckon.”
“I think so,” I replied.
“Well, then,” he said when we were through with our stretches. “Thanks very much. Same time next time?” He shrugged a light pullover on over his running things, ready to go.
“If it suits you,” I agreed.
“Yup,” he nodded affably. “Always free on Thursday mornings.”
“Great,” I replied. “See you then.”
As he left, I wondered whether it was as obvious to everyone how happy I felt. I walked back through the park with an enormous grin on my face. Everything was beautiful today, from the kids playing on the lawn, to the dogs running around the flower beds, to the swallows, flitting high above the city just below the overhanging mists. I just felt wonderful.
As I drove back home again, the doubts started to set in. What was I thinking? Did I really expect that Macy Trent, executive at Trent Incorporated, was going to be interested in me? I sighed. Unlocked the door to my small, unassuming apartment and sat down heavily on the couch.
“Macy Trent,” I sighed. “You can’t really fall for me, can you?”
I looked around the apartment from the viewpoint of the sofa. My eye lingered over the cracks stain on the rug. The general impression of having been decorated in the late Eighties and left undisturbed. It was old and, let’s face it, a bit grim. The taps in the bathroom, I knew, still had the star-shaped handles that taps had when I was a kid, and the light in the kitchen had a chain pull that almost came out of the ceiling if you pulled it right.
I couldn’t even bring Macy in here, never mind expect her to stay.
It was all the old doubts all over again. I was the son of a convenience-store owner and she was the daughter of a multimillionaire. It wasn’t going to work.
“Oh well.”
I stretched, feeling the ache of cramp in my leg where it still objected to running in the morning chill, and headed through to the kitchen for coffee.
I checked my phone, but Macy hadn’t said anything. I chuckled.
What do you expect? To win an award for performance?
I breathed in the scent of the coffee and tried to calm down. To be pragmatic about things. In all fairness, I didn’t even know for sure Macy was single, much less anything else about her.
The clock told me it was eleven am. I had to be on shift at one at the mall. I called Neville, to see if he was around. He usually was, Thursday mornings.
“Hey?”
“Hey!” he said cheerfully in reply. “How’s it going?”
“Okay,” I sighed. “Um…can I ask you something weird?”
“Sure,” Neville said easily. “Why not?”
“Um, okay.” I drew in a deep breath. “It’s like this. Do you think a woman…um…high above my social standing…would like me. Like, like me?” I asked.
Long silence. “Nev?” I felt nervous.
He let out a long breath. “Well, let’s face it, Jeffers. You’re pretty good to look at, right?”
I huffed a laugh. “Thanks.”
“So…” he paused. “I think lots of women would like like you.”
He sounded uneasy and I frowned. “But what?”
“But, well…” he was clearly vacillating. “You know…what’s the word? Fickle. That’s it. Girls are fickle. They like the bling, y’know?”
I let out a long breath. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
“So, maybe this bird likes you. Maybe she doesn’t. I dunno. All you can do is ask her. Yes?”
I sighed. Asking Macy if she actually liked me. Given that, or given a job defusing bombs, I wasn’t sure which one I wanted. At least the bomb could just blow my head off. Having Macy’s undiluted honesty would break my heart.
“You’re right, Neville,” I said sadly.
He chuckled. “Hell, man. You sound like you have the bug here.”
I scowled. “Stop it, Nev,” I said, peaceably enough. “I’m doing my best here.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry, man,” he said. “I guess maybe I’m just living vicariously her
e, you know. Your life’s more exciting than mine is.”
I chuckled. “Nev, I don’t believe you.”
“Thanks,” he said fondly. “But really, it is. So all the best, seriously.”
“Thanks, man,” I said.
I got off the phone feeling low. I had been fairly sure I was right before I called. Now I was completely sure. Neville was right. No girl of her status would see anything in a guy like me.
I checked my messages again, just in case. When there was nothing, I put my phone resolutely in my kit bag and went to change for work. I just had to face it. It was a magical, magnificent, and memorable night. But it was just one night.
I was going to forget it happened. It was the best thing I could do. For both of us.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Macy
I sat at my desk, trying to concentrate on the presentation I was preparing for the board meeting. It wasn’t easy.
All my thoughts were crowded with thoughts and memories of the previous night. Thoughts and memories of Maddox, to be accurate, and of our intimacy.
I smiled to myself, thinking of how he had touched me, his fingers gently exploring me in that wonderful way. The feel of his mouth on mine. The sweetness of him moving in me and kissing me.
“Hello?”
I blinked. Jess, the secretary, was at the door. I had no idea how long she’d even been there. I shook my head to clear it.
“Jess! Hi. Something urgent?” I asked.
“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “Just these forms…the visa application for the China trip.”
“Oh.” I raised my brows in surprise. I’d actually forgotten about the fact that I was supposed to be flying to Beijing in December. Part of my father’s expansion as a major freight provider for the Dandong port. I had been really excited about it, but now it had slipped my mind. “Thanks,” I said.
“Of course, Ms. Trent.”
Jessica left the pages on the desk and I read them idly, unable to concentrate on anything except the drifting haze of joy inside me. I still felt deliciously bruised inside and I wished I could just spend the whole day enjoying the calm tranquility that filled me.
“Describe the reason for your trip…” I read aloud. I thought about my reply, but pictures of Maddox kept intruding on my thoughts. I felt almost exasperated. Go on, get outta my head. I smiled just imagining saying that to the images that filtered through my happy, peaceful mind. I didn’t actually want them to stop, of course. I never wanted them to stop.
I couldn’t believe we were finally back together.
I filled out the forms and sent them to Jess. Then I checked my phone. My dad had messaged me with more pictures and a small note.
Hi, sweetheart. Things going great here. Hope you’re having a good time. Looking forward to being back! Maybe we can go out with the yacht club when I come home.
I read the message with some surprise. The yacht club. I’d forgotten. Daddy, bless his heart, had been trying to make me get into the yacht scene, with the very transparent hope that I would meet someone there. I knew he worried about me being lonely. He and mom had a happy marriage and seemed to believe everyone wanted nothing more than to be similarly settled.
I don’t know what I want.
I did know who I wanted. I wanted Maddox. I giggled. I couldn’t exactly ask him myself, or I would have by now. I was marginally upset by the fact that I hadn’t heard anything from him yet.
He’s probably busy.
The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if I should text him myself. Something stayed my hand: I knew what it was too. I didn’t know whether Maddox was actually single or not.
We hadn’t talked about anything about the recent past. I hadn’t told him about my last, disastrous, relationship. He hadn’t told me anything either.
For all I know, there’s someone in his life already.
I sighed. We had a lovely evening together—it was magical, in fact. So magical. But was it just that: the magic and the memories intruding on our current every day?
I started typing a message. Hi, Maddox. How’s life? It was a great evening with you last night.
I didn’t send it. It sounded weird. How was I supposed to thank him for such a thing? And, by rights, I had invited him. Protocol meant he was supposed to message me first. I chuckled.
You really stick to protocol? You’re chronic, Ms. Trent, really you are.
But the uncertainty remained. Why hadn’t he told me about his previous relationships? Why had he stayed silent? And why did he leave me in the beginning?
“Come on, Macy,” I sighed.
I didn’t know the answer to any of those questions. All I knew was that I was tired of thinking so hard. I was going to set aside my memories of last night for the moment and concentrate on the present tasks. I was twenty-six, not sixteen anymore. I had to be mature. I couldn’t let my feelings get the better of me, now could I?
I finished the presentation and flicked through the slides. I needed some more data for one of them, one about increased employee number. I mailed the head of HR and sat back with a sigh.
One o’ clock. Lunch hour.
I dug out my phone to message Harper. We sometimes met at Eat Green, a vegetarian café that was roughly midway between our two workplaces.
Hey! I wrote. Thanks for an awesome evening. Time for lunch? M.
To my evident surprise and pleasure, her reply flashed back quickly. Sure. See you in fifteen minutes.
I headed out.
At the café, the room was already full of people—well-dressed executives talking about their work or journalists, checking their phones, stock traders in animated discussions about the future of different shares. I walked quickly across the table to the corner where I spotted brassy blond curls.
“Harper!”
“Hi, Macy!” she smiled up at me from over her cappuccino. “So. A good evening?” she gave me a wide-eyed anticipatory smile. I frowned.
“Yes,” I said cautiously. “The party was good. Why?”
She giggled. “Macy! I saw you! It was so cute! Tell me all about him…”
I sighed. “Harper, my friend…can we just avoid that topic? It’s, well, complicated.”
“Okay,” she said. Her eyes were wide and she was clearly interested, but she made no comment. I was grateful for that.
“Now,” she continued as I finished placing my order, “what did you think of the place? I think I chose well for the venue. What would you say?”
I nodded. “It was an awesome venue, Harper. You did everything excellently.”
She smiled contentedly. “Thank you, Macy.” she took a sip of her cappuccino, the foam clinging momentarily to her top lip. She wiped it off. “How’s the work treating you?”
I sighed. “Not so badly, actually…” As I described the presentation I’d be giving next Monday and the plans for the Beijing trip, I noticed her covertly watching me. Her eyes were thoughtful and speculative. I guessed she was trying to figure out what happened last night. I smiled secretively to myself. That was my secret.
“That sounds awesome,” she said, smiling at me as her lunch arrived—a salad with artisan-style bread. Mine arrived simultaneously; a vegetarian wrap with Thai dressing.
“Mm,” I smiled, chewing contentedly. “So…who was that guy you were with last night?”
Her grin was spectacular. “Guy?” she asked, batting long, mascara-loaded lashes. “What guy?”
“I saw you,” I teased. “That guy with the hair and the big smile. Who is that?”
She blushed superbly, a shade of pink I didn’t know was on the human-skin spectrum. “His name’s Gareth,” she explained. “He’s an attorney.”
“Oh!” I smiled at her. “Well! Persuasive, is he?”
She flipped a hand at me. “Macy! Stop teasing now.” She was laughing and blushing, though, and I felt the happiness that was flowing through her fill me too. I laughed with her.
“Okay, I’ll stop,” I
promised. “But you have to tell me where you bought those stunning earrings you’re wearing.” She was wearing round earrings with faceted green stones in them; olivine, I guessed.
“Oh! These?” she smiled, complimented, clearly. “I bought these at Guess.”
“They’re stunning.”
“Thanks.”
We chatted for a bit longer and then she took out her phone and jumped. “Oh! Hell. Time to go!”
I nodded. It was twenty to two—time I went too.
“Okay.” I nodded, following her example and heading to the door. “See you tomorrow, maybe?”
“Yes! Tomorrow would be great,” she agreed. “Looking forward.”
“Me too!”
As I settled the bill—we took it in turns—and headed out of the restaurant, I found myself wondering why I had been so resistant to tell my best friend about my evening. About Maddox. Was it because I wasn’t sure about the relationship? Or was it because I really was ashamed of him?
I sighed. On the way back to work, I thought back to when I was sixteen. I remembered talking to my aunt, Grady’s mother. Aunt Sherri was a small, earnest woman who lived for propriety. She didn’t approve of her son’s friendship with the boy from Vermont.