Sweet Tooth: A Second Chance Romance

by Aria Ford

  He put our orders down and I sipped mine slowly, letting the caffeine wash up to my brain and help me think.

  “Claudia,” I commented lightly. “You work with her long?”

  “Oh, about six months now. Great person,” he said. Again, his voice was tight and nervous. Why?

  “Is she your only client?” I asked.

  “No,” he said, clearly relieved to be off the topic of Claudia. “I have four personal training clients, actually. Two of them—her and LaShane—I meet with twice a week. They’re the sporty people. The rest are less, um, sporty.”

  “Oh.” I took another sip of my cappuccino. “She’s an athlete?”

  “Yeah!” he said. “Long-distance runner. You can see that, probably,” he said.

  I frowned. What was that supposed to mean? How? In her figure, I guessed. “Probably,” I said lightly.

  “Listen, Macy,” he said quietly. “Don’t worry about Claudia. She’s a client. That’s it.”

  “I wasn’t worried,” I lied. He went red.

  “Oh. Well, I just thought…” he trailed off uncomfortably, shifting in his seat, shoulders hunched as he stirred sweetener into his coffee.

  I sighed. I felt fairly sure he’d lied to me, but there was no point in pursuing it. In a way, I felt sorry for him.

  Better that I found out now.

  “You have to get to work early?” he asked.

  I raised a brow. “I should be there by nine,” I said thinly. It was eight thirty now. “Which probably means,” I added frostily, “That I should get going, no?” I felt cold inside.

  “Um…maybe,” he said. He sounded horribly awkward. I sighed.

  “It was nice seeing you again.” I meant it too. It was. I lifted my cup and finished my coffee quickly. He frowned.

  “Are you going?”

  I sighed. “Maddox, it’s late. If I want to get to work on time—and I do—I should go right now. Thanks again,” I said.

  “Uh, it was nice seeing you, Macy,” he said shyly. “I hope I can see you again?”

  I was pushing back my chair. I stiffened. The retort that sprang to my lips at that comment wasn’t one I should rightly share, so I swallowed it. Made myself smile. It was a brittle, cool smile and I knew it. But what else could I do?

  “Maybe,” I said. Then I gathered my handbag and my coat and walked, quickly and quietly, to the entrance.

  In my car, I sat down behind the wheel and rested my arms on it. I let out a long sigh.

  A tear moved slowly down my cheek.

  Maddox, I thought sadly. Are you lying to me? Was this what happened the first time after all? I guess I was silly to hope.

  I drove all the way to work singing loudly with the radio, trying to lift my spirits before the meeting, but all the same my vision was blurred through the mist of my tears.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Maddox

  I drove to my apartment feeling like the worst person to walk the face of Earth. What a loser. Macy couldn’t wait to be out of there.

  It was because of Claudia, I knew that. I had tried to explain to her that she was just a client. But I could see from the look on Macy’s face that she hadn’t believed me.

  “How could I be so stupid?”

  I sighed as I walked up the stairs to the third floor where my apartment was. I realized now how stupid I had been from the beginning. I should have been transparent. I should have told her about my recent past. About Cherri, my ex. About everything that had happened that had caused me to distance myself from her all those years before. But I hadn’t. I had just walked into her life and hoped we’d pick up where we left off. I had been dumb.

  I marched into the apartment, tripped over the bags of stuff I’d left there to take to the charity collection, and lay on the floor, feeling like I wished the floor would open and consume me.

  “Okay,” I groaned to myself as I rolled over, moving the things out of the way as I did so. “So now I’ve messed things up with Macy. How to fix them?”

  That was the trouble. I had no idea.

  I had to do something. I remembered how I had felt when she’d walked out of the cafe like that, as if I was a bad smell or something. I had been more upset, watching her retreat, than I had been about anything I could remember lately.

  The first thing I thought of was to call her. I reached for my phone and dialed her number. She didn’t answer. I sighed and hung up. Put the phone on the table and went through to the kitchen.

  “What might work?” I asked myself as I took my uniform off my makeshift washing line in the kitchen and put it on the ironing board.

  The possibilities chased themselves around my mind and after I’d finished ironing my suit, I gave up.

  I sat on the couch and called Stella. My cousin.

  “Hi?”

  “Maddy!” Stella said cheerfully. “Hey! How’s life?”

  I chuckled. Stella had a voice that could probably be used to break industrial-strength glass: high and loud and bubbly. But it was comforting to hear her now. “Okay, Stel. How are you?”

  “I’m great, thanks,” she said. “Actually at work right now, but it’s my job to answer telephones. So what’s happening with you?”

  I smiled. Stella worked as a receptionist at Interflora. She probably didn’t have time to answer my call, but she was such good company that I found it hard to say no. “I have to ask you something,” I said carefully.

  “Fire away.”

  “Okay,” I said, pausing to gather my thoughts. “Well, I’ve just upset a girl big time.”

  “Oh.”

  “You see,” I paused. “We have history and now…basically she thinks I’m cheating on her with a client. I’m not. What can I do about it?”

  “Oh,” Stella paused. “Well, you could try call her. Tell her you’re not cheating. Pretty straightforward, yeah?”

  I sighed. “Bad idea. She’ll hate me for calling her at work. And besides, if she didn’t believe me to her face, what’s there to make her believe it now? She’ll just say that I’m telling her lies.”

  Stella let out a long sigh. “True. Okay. So, what else could you do? You know her, not me.”

  “Come on, Stel. You’re a girl. I’m a guy. How am I supposed to know what would work?” I protested.

  She made a small huffing noise. “What’s that supposed to mean. Girls aren’t that different to guys, you know. What would make you feel better?”

  “If she said sorry?” I ventured, frowning. “Or if she gave me an explanation. One I could actually believe in.”

  “Okay,” Stella said slowly. “So. Give her an explanation. And say sorry. Maybe take her out, make her feel like you care. She’s hurt, you know. It looks like she’s cross, but she’s hurt.”

  I let out a long breath. “Okay. So how about I invite her for dinner tomorrow. That make sense?”

  “Sure,” Stella said warmly. “Now. What are you going to say when you invite her?”

  I sighed. “Stel…”

  “Tell me,” she said sternly. “It’ll make the difference. Trust me.”

  “Okay.” I blew out my cheeks in a long exhale. “How about this. I’m sorry, Macy, for hurting you. Let’s meet for dinner.”

  A pause. “She told you she was hurt? As in, you actually argued? Yeah?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Okay. Then not that. How about this? I saw this nice restaurant and thought of you. Let’s have dinner. That way, you can avoid her thinking you feel bad about something…it’ll make her suspicious.”

  “Oh!” I felt as if a light had turned on in my brain somewhere. “You think she’d think that?”

  She snorted. “Well, yeah! Imagine if you were dating someone and they suddenly got all weird and secretive and then started being apologetic. What’d you think, eh?”

  I sighed. I saw her point. “Yes, you’re right. Dammit, Stel. I’m useless at this.”

  “No, you’re not,” she said firmly. “You called me, didn’t you?”


  I laughed. “You’re not confident or anything, right?”

  “I have a well-developed sense of my own abilities,” she said frostily. Then she giggled. “Yes, and I’m arrogant as hell sometimes. But you like me anyway.”

  I roared with laughter. She had made me feel much better already. “Yes,” I agreed. “I do.”

  “Mm. All that and good taste,” she said with a chuckle. “Now, best of luck, Maddy. Tell me what happens, hey?”

  I sighed. “If it works, trust me; you’ll be the first to find out.”

  “Yay,” she said. I laughed.

  I had to admit that Stella’s idea was a good one. Which meant that I needed to find a fancy restaurant. I reached for my phone and made a search.

  A place caught my eye called Foulard’s. It happened to be near the mall where I worked. I decided that was the place. A glance at the elegant tables and the food that looked like MasterChef met the top flower-arranging team convinced me that it was the sort of place she’d like. I checked the clock—it was twelve-twenty. Time I got going and headed to my shift.

  On the way to the mall, I passed the flower shop where I’d bought flowers the previous evening. That gave me an idea. Instead of messaging to make the invitation, what if I just turned up at Macy’s door tomorrow, with flowers and ready to take her out. What would she say?

  Nerves assailed me the moment I thought of that. It would probably be easier to just message her. But then, I’d already called her and received no reply. So who was going to say that she would even respond to a message from me.

  “No, you’re going to have to take your courage in your hands,” I decided wryly.

  The thought filled me with apprehension and I laughed at myself. It wasn’t like I was tackling some massive guy sprinting for the touchdown. Compared with actually arriving at Macy’s door with a bunch of flowers, though, I would rather be facing Jerry Rice or Jim Brown on the field.

  At least those guys could only bruise me physically.

  But if I wanted to make this right, I was going to have to do things properly. And I did know Macy well enough to know she would appreciate an effort.

  It felt like a good idea.

  “Right,” I said unsteadily. It was settled. I would buy the flowers on the way back from work, head back home to change and go to her apartment to take her out. I was on afternoon shift tomorrow. If I got things right I could make it to her door by seven o’ clock.

  “Hey, Jake,” I called to the guard who was just leaving when I arrived.

  “Maddox,” he nodded. “Hell. You look tense. You been in a fight or something?”

  “No,” I said lightly. I had no idea my tension was showing that badly. I shrugged and acted nonchalant. “Just got a lot on my mind.”

  “Oh.” He shrugged. “Well, good luck. Have fun,” he added ironically. I grinned blandly back.

  “I’ll do my best.”

  I took myself off to my position and tried, with varying degrees of success, to focus on the task at hand. My thoughts were all elsewhere. To be precise, my thoughts were all with Macy.

  I had high hopes for tomorrow.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Macy

  I managed to get through Friday’s workday without being too unproductive. That surprised me. I was barely able to concentrate on the calls, the papers, the meetings…my mind was all in that cafe with Maddox, seeing the guilty look on his face.

  Well, that’s that.

  I wasn’t going to blame him—I hadn’t asked him about his current singleness, and to be fair to him I hadn’t told him about mine, either. He hadn’t actually lied to me.

  Well, he did, a rebellious sector of my brain informed me. He told you he’s not seeing Claudia.

  I sighed. It was late on Friday and I’d just got in from work. I walked across the room and put my briefcase in my study area, then headed to the kitchen and put on the coffee machine.

  “If he was telling the truth,” I said aloud, “why hasn’t he contacted me?”

  I knew I was being silly. It was a day since I’d seen him. How could I expect him to get on the phone or send a message every day? Valery sometimes hadn’t gotten hold of me for two or three days.

  That thought was probably not guaranteed to make me feel better: Valery had been manipulative, trying to make me say I needed him. His silences were meant to stretch out as long as it took me to break them.

  I’m not doing it with Maddox. If he wants to get hold of me he can do it first. It’s not my call.

  I took my coffee through to the lounge and sat on the sofa, staring out over the room. Two days ago, he’d been here. I’d finished the laundry, or probably my sheets would still smell like him. Now, it seemed like I was being forced to see that encounter for what it really was. An encounter. Nothing more.

  The clock ticked loudly in the silence. I looked up at it accusingly, as if it was purposefully intruding on my privacy and grief. It said seven o’ clock.

  “Right,” I said with a sigh. “Time for dinner.”

  I wandered through to my kitchen, wondering if I should go out. I’d messaged Harper earlier in the day, but she was out of town for some kind of expo, and I was left without her ready company.

  “I’ll just make something quick,” I decided, rummaging around in the cupboard for Basmati rice. With a bit of luck, I had one of those step-by-step Thai things in the pantry. I could almost remember buying one and putting it in there.

  “There it is…oh, dammit…” it had fallen to the back, hiding behind bags of flour and boxes of tea and pasta. I was fiddling about, the way one does, trying to fish it out from the back row without actually emptying the cupboard like a sensible person, when the doorbell rang.

  I groaned. “Can’t you come back tomorrow?” I said softly. Whoever that was, it was probably the couriers or something. I’d ordered a pair of earrings as a gift for mom and it was likely them, being delivered. I sighed and headed to the door to press the buzzer. A few moments later I heard the lift door make its opening noise and someone rang the bell outside my door.

  “Hello?”

  I stared.

  It was Maddox. He was dressed in a tan-colored blazer and trousers, his hair shining and in place. His eyes were shy and his grin awkward and he was holding a big bunch of carnations. Red ones.

  “Maddox?”

  He chuckled nervously. “I’m sorry, Macy. I thought we should talk. And I wanted to invite you to dinner. If you’re interested?” He looked at me hopefully and I sighed.

  My heart was melting, but I was badly in need of some explanations. “Come in,” I said.

  He nodded.

  Having him in my space again felt weird. I shut the door behind him and we stood there, warily, eyeing each other with a reserved shyness. I sighed.

  “Well,” I said, turning to the kitchen. “You know where things are. Come in. Want some coffee?”

  He stayed where he was. “Macy?”

  “Yes?” I asked. I went through to the kitchen, busily bringing down an extra cup, taking capsules from the box and making a new cup of coffee. If he was here to try and sweet-talk me, I wasn’t too interested. I just wanted the truth.

  “Macy, listen,” he said. “I’ve been an ass.”

  I chuckled. He was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, just behind me. His muscular shape almost filled the door, blocking the route out should I have chosen to take it. I felt my heart thump with the beginning of arousal, but I schooled my face into neutral.

  “Well,” I chuckled. “That’s true. Why do you say that now, particularly?”

  It was his turn to chuckle. He did so. His eyes were warm.

  “Well, I agree that I’ve been an ass so often, with you, that we have quite a list. I chose to start now because…well…” he shrugged. “I guess I finally realized what an ass I’ve been.”

  I raised a brow. Was he going to finally explain himself? I felt hope fill me, but was cautious. “That sounds very interesting,” I
said carefully. I took the cups of coffee and went through to the sitting room with them.

  He came to join me as I sat down. I took the white glazed coffee cup in my hands and leaned back, watching him.

  He cleared his throat. “Macy, before we start, I want to say that I wish I’d never walked away from you. It wasn’t what I wanted. I know that now.”

  I knew my heart was pounding away in my chest like the wings of a butterfly, swift and fluttering.

  “Why, Maddox?”

  He sighed. “You know, I can’t actually believe what I did, now. It was so stupid. So blind. I was such an idiot.”

  “Why?” I said softly. Now that we were here, in my living room, discussing the past and the way he had been then, the way he had hurt me, I wasn’t letting him get off lightly. He had to tell me the truth.

  “Well, because…because I thought I’d hurt you.”

  I stared at him. I laughed—surprise more than happiness. I was angry. “Maddox Jefferson!” I said, feeling the affront ignite inside me. “How could you really think that of anything you could possibly do, just disappearing out of my life for no reason would hurt me less? Have you any idea…”