Maybe

by Amber L. Johnson

  My hands are shaking, and I want to leave. Now. “Did I ever tell you why Tim left me? No. When I couldn’t dance anymore, I told him I wanted a family, but he didn’t. So he walked out.”

  Tyler’s head is tilted, and his hand is still holding me in place.

  There’s a sort of choked laughter that comes from my throat when I hold the playbill up for him to see. “Turns out he did want it after all. That little girl is his daughter.”

  “We can go.” Tyler’s face is drawn and pale.

  I am drowning in the ghosts of my past, and just as we’re about to walk into the night, the hurried sound of footsteps behind us gives me pause. Tim’s daughter is running at us full speed, headed straight for the exit. Instinct kicks in, and I drop to my knees and grab her before she can escape.

  She giggles while I hold her around the middle, and my chest seizes up at how squishy and soft she is. How her hair smells like apple shampoo. Her laughter is the cutest sound in the entire world.

  “Hey, now. You can’t run out like that.”

  She turns in my arms and claps her hands on my cheeks, making my lips poke out. “I’m Mackenzie Elizabeth Dury. What’s your name?” Her fat cheeks are bright pink, and her brown eyes are huge. They look just like Tim’s. It’s a weird axis I’m tilted on. This could have been my life, but I’m looking at it from the other side of the glass.

  “I’m Emily Jayne Portman. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “My gramma is coming. I gotta hide.” She wriggles from my arms and slides under a bench, curled into a ball.

  Tyler is standing over me, and I rise to my feet but hold out a hand to silently ask him to stay put. I can’t leave this child alone in the middle of a huge building like this, but I don’t want to face her grandmother either.

  “Mackenzie!”

  I hate that voice. I always have.

  “She’s here, Portia. She’s fine. Almost made it out the door, but I caught her.”

  The older woman’s steps are slow, and she readjusts her posture before meeting me where I stand. “Emily. It’s good to see you. You look well.”

  Tyler’s hand is tugging on mine, but I just link our fingers and stand still. It’s funny that she’s said those words. She used to tell me I was fat when I was at least twenty pounds thinner. “Thank you. Same. How’s the school?”

  She’s more frail than I remember, and her hands are covered in liver spots, which I’m sure she hates. But her gray hair is still long and pulled up high on her head to show her elegant neck, and her eyes are still cold.

  “I sold the studio. I’m retiring. I want to spend more time with the family.”

  I turn and look at Tyler, whose face is tight and whose grip on my hand is strong. There’s a hushed psst sound from under the bench, and we both glance over to see Mackenzie waving at him in big, exaggerated motions.

  “Looks like she wants you to introduce yourself.” I squeeze his hand once, and he takes a cautious step toward her. When he’s sitting on the bench and his legs are giving the little girl a better hiding place, I face Portia once more.

  “How’s Tim?”

  “He’s well. His wife is here. She’s one of the stepsisters.”

  “That must be nice. You like her?”

  Her shoulders tense. “I do.”

  “Then that all worked out perfectly, yes?” My fingers are twitching at my side. “Your granddaughter is beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. You should be proud.”

  “I am.”

  “Good. Can I just offer one piece of advice?” This woman is no longer someone I am afraid of or want to impress. I’ve learned a lot in the seven years since her son walked out the door. “I know you always wanted Tim to marry a dancer, which he has, and Mackenzie is dancing, too, which is great. Just tell her she can be anything she wants to be. Don’t make her feel obligated.”

  “I wouldn’t.” The way her left cheek seizes up when I say this lets me know that she’s lying, and she’s offended that I’d call her out on it.

  She will, though, but I won’t say anything more.

  I glance over to see the little girl sitting next to Tyler with her hand on his leg and her feet swinging beneath her. She has her fingers up to her mouth, and Tyler’s head is lowered to listen to whatever she has to say. He nods and smiles, and then his face turns solemn. She pulls away like what she’s just said is serious business, and he agrees.

  “I have to go. Have a good rest of the evening.” I walk away without getting any closure, but it doesn’t matter. Tyler is speaking lowly when I approach, and Mackenzie puts her fingers to her lips and shushes him.

  “What are you two talking about?”

  They give one another a look and both shrug. It’s probably the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.

  The little girl flips over and pushes herself up until she’s standing, then sticks her tongue out the side of her mouth in concentration while she gently presses a finger to Tyler’s eyebrow.

  “Did it hurt?”

  “Just a little.”

  “It’s shiny.”

  “Yep.”

  “I want one.”

  We both laugh, and Tyler angles back to gaze up at her chubby face. She smiles and turns toward me.

  “Wanna know what we were talking about?”

  “Yeah.” I cross my arms and wait.

  “I said you were beautiful, and he said he thought you were, too.”

  “Oh, God. That’s really nice.”

  She smiles bigger, and her eyes all but disappear. “Then I asked him if he loved you.”

  My breathing goes shallow, and I stare at her. “What?”

  “You wanna know what he said?” Mackenzie puts her hands on her hips and points her left toe out. “He said yes.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  From the Private Journal of Tyler Macy

  If I’m being honest, Mackenzie asked me three questions.

  Do you love her?

  Are you going to marry her?

  and

  Are you going to have babies with her?

  I didn’t give it a second thought when I answered yes to them all.

  —M

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  We’re standing in the hotel room staring at one another.

  “You had a little girl do your dirty work.”

  “Saying ‘I love you’ isn’t dirty work.”

  The force of his words hits me in the chest. I want to go to him, but my feet are firmly planted on the ground. “Say it again, then.”

  He takes a tentative step forward, and I brace myself. Tyler’s arm extends, and the back of his fingers brush my arm. “Do you want to talk about what happened back there?”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. You know the basics, right? Apparently he wanted a family. Just not with me.”

  He’s closer now, his face dipped toward mine. I will not cry. This wound is old, and it’s only a faded bruise.

  “I know how he feels.”

  “That is a terrible thing to say.” I start to push him away, but he holds me to his chest, and his nose grazes my ear.

  “I didn’t want one with Addie either.” My eyes close, and I can’t stop the tears when they dam up behind my lids. “But I would with you.”

  “Don’t say that.”

  “But it’s true. Emily, look at me.”

  A warm, salty tear escapes, and I feel too vulnerable. I’m so tired. I’m under pressure from work and this altercation and the reality that I wasn’t enough. Tyler’s holding my face in his hands, and I try to breathe through the tightness in my throat.

  “This isn’t how I expected tonight to go, but maybe it’s exactly what needed to happen, huh?”

  I try to look away, but he turns me back gently. “Do you know why I don’t like to be called Tyler by anyone but you?”

  “No.” It hurts to even speak one word out loud.

  “Addie wanted to name the baby after me. She would say it so much that I started wishing it wasn’t m
y name anymore. That other man’s baby that she was passing off as mine? She was going to name it after me.”

  “That’s . . . she’s a terrible person.”

  He kisses my cheek and smiles. “But I like it when you say my name. And I love you. That’s what tonight was about. It was cheesy and over the top because it’s the only thing I could think of to show you exactly how much I care about you. I would have said it tonight anyway. Believe me.”

  “Yeah?” I can’t breathe again, but it’s in a really good way.

  “Do you need more time?” His eyes are searching, and I already know the answer. Everything I once said I wouldn’t be, I am in this moment, and I don’t want to be anything else.

  “No, I don’t need more time.”

  My shaking fingers slip his jacket off his shoulders, and I push up on my toes to press a soft kiss to his throat. Working slowly, I slip each button through its hole, and when I’m done, I slide my hands under the fabric, opening it wider while I feel him beneath my fingertips. He’s solid and real. He’s here, and he’s mine.

  The shirt goes. The pants. Everything else.

  We don’t kiss. I just touch him like I’ve never done it before. I can’t look at him yet, so I keep my head lowered, brushing my thumbs over the dip of his hips. He sighs and reaches for my zipper, and I let him lower it and pull the fabric from my body.

  His hands are gentle, and once I’m sure my voice won’t shake, I dare to look into his eyes and speak. “Kiss me,” I whisper. He does, and it’s as soft as the first time, back in my bed in Austin. It means something now. I hold him at his waist and press in, skin to skin, while he opens my mouth with his.

  It’s all so slow—the kisses and my palms gliding over his sides and back. His hands pull me tighter and anchor me against him. We touch at every imaginable place, and I wrap my arms around his neck to kiss him deeper. He bends and grips the back of my thighs to lift me and slide us onto the bed. I’m in his lap, holding on as tight as I can, because all these feelings from the past year have finally broken through the walls I built up so high.

  I love his hands. I love his mouth. I love the tenderness that he reserves for me alone. I love all these things.

  His love for me is just the icing on the cake.

  And this changes everything.

  “I love you,” I say against his cheek, gripping the back of his neck as I do. “I love you, Tyler.”

  When we kiss again, he fills me completely. In every single way.

  And when he says it again, it’s the first time he comes without anything between us.

  I am naked and warm beneath the comforter, with Tyler’s head on my chest. His ear lies against my heart, and I run my fingers through his hair while he hums and presses in closer.

  “Can I record this?” His face turns so that he can place a kiss where his ear just was. “I want to listen to it all the time.”

  “Sure?” His hair tickles my chin, and it makes me laugh before I try to blow it out of the way.

  He descends, and I feel his lips press to my stomach, then lower, until I’m spread wide open and his tongue begins to move. I arch and shift, pulling him closer to fist his hair. I’m already beginning to sweat, so I throw the covers off and am met with a fantastic view.

  “Come here,” I gasp, my back arching under his expertise. “Come up here.”

  His head rises from between my thighs, and he leaves a wet trail of kisses up my stomach to my neck before our lips touch. I shift and reach between us, eyes trained on his when my fingers wrap around his cock and I guide him forward.

  There is nothing greater in this entire world than the first few seconds of Tyler Macy entering me. The trust between us, this monumental thing that happens when he’s inside and doesn’t pull away, makes me grip tighter and push him farther. I beg him to go faster. This is what I need today. I want it hard. I am needy and have too many decisions to make.

  “Harder,” I moan and latch my mouth onto his shoulder, biting down when he gives me what I ask for. It’s so good, and it hurts, but it’s beautiful pain that drives away the anxiety. His hips snap back repeatedly, and I hold on, knees pulled up against his ribs to brace myself for each thrust.

  I want to see that look on his face, the one from last night. I want to see it when it happens. He pushes upward, hands planted next to my head while he gives more, and I take, squeezing his arms with every last ounce of energy I have. I don’t know how much time passes. I don’t care. This is what I need before I walk out that door and change my life for good.

  I slither my hand down my stomach, and my fingers circle while he watches, eyes smoldering and filled with lust. “That’s so pretty, Peach. I fucking love watching you.”

  I’m stretched thin, one arm above my head gripping the sheets while the other rushes me toward the release I need. I’m right there at the edge, and I can feel my muscles tense, ready and shaking when everything seizes up and I call his name, his real name, so loud.

  So loud.

  He’s still going, and I’m gasping for air when he whispers something under his breath, and what I’d deemed fast before is nothing compared to him now. The vein in his neck bulges, and his mouth drops open, eyes half-shut when he lets out the softest moan.

  And there it is—the crescendo. I’ve finally seen it by the light of day.

  He lays limp on my chest, unmoving except his labored breaths. “Don’t move.” His face is pressed to my sternum again, and he peppers small kisses there, moving over to take a nipple into his mouth. “Are you sure you have to stay another day?”

  “Yeah, but I’ll meet you in Syracuse. I just have to go into the office.”

  “Four more stops and we’re back in Texas. I have a little time before we leave again.” He rests his chin on my chest and gazes up at me with bright eyes. “I don’t have a place anymore. Maybe I can come stay with you?”

  His hair feels featherlight between my fingers, and I grin. “Let’s talk about it later. I have to get ready for that meeting with Rynn.”

  “Right.” He slides off and rolls over onto his back, one arm over his forehead and the other across his stomach. “You should get moving, then, because the sooner you leave, the sooner you come back.”

  “I can’t argue with that logic.”

  Within an hour, I am ready to go, and he’s wearing a towel, fresh from the shower. We linger at the door, and every last question I’ve had about this disappears between his lips.

  “I’ll call you when I’m on the way.”

  I don’t see anyone else when I walk through the foyer, but it is still pretty early by their standards. Checkout isn’t for another hour. I push my sunglasses down over my eyes and confidently hail a cab to take me to corporate.

  The elevator to the eighth floor is faster than the one I used in Texas. It makes me smile to remember the doors opening on each and every floor. When this one stops on eight, I step out and put on a brave face.

  Rynn’s assistant has this face that never looks happy or sad. She’s just blank, her eyes almost void of emotion. I figure she has to be that way to work for our boss. Rynn is a succubus.

  I’m allowed entry into the office, and Rynn immediately points to the chair in front of her desk. She’s facing the window, her chair swiveling back and forth while she finishes up a phone call that ends with, “Test me, motherfucker.”

  When she swings around to acknowledge me, my gut tightens.

  “Where’s my story, Portman?”

  I slide papers her way and stand back on my feet. This meeting will be short. “You need to find someone else to follow the story you want. I’m not going to do it. These are good people who love music, Rynn. They have families. They just want to play while they can, and if that’s not forever, it won’t break anyone’s heart. They’ll be huge and things will happen, but I won’t be the one writing about it.” I tap my finger on the papers once and move them closer. “You want a story? Figure out what the hell is going on with Shae. Follow the st
ory, Rynn, but leave these people alone.” I start toward the door, half-expecting something to go flying at my head, but she’s eerily calm.

  “Sit your ass back down before I ruin you.”

  When I look back over my shoulder, I’m not smiling. “In case I wasn’t clear? I don’t work for you anymore. Find someone else to ruin.”

  It feels good to walk out of her office. It feels good to stand in the early morning sunshine and really breathe for the first time in years. I have a plan. Even if it doesn’t work out, I still have all of them. I have Tyler. It’s a start.

  My phone has been buzzing since I rode up the elevator, and now that I’m out of the office, I check to see what the commotion is. If it’s Tyler saying he misses me, I will be so pissed.

  It’s not, though.

  It’s the nightmare I had hoped wouldn’t happen.

  The cabbie pulls up to the hospital, and I throw some cash at him then scramble for the door. Only when he yells at me do I remember I have luggage in his trunk. It slows me down and weighs my already heavy limbs. The panic in my chest has manifested in numbness through my arms and fingers. I can barely grip the handle of my suitcase while I make a beeline for the information desk.

  “Thoreaux. Shawn. Where is he? Can I see him?”

  I’m given the room number, and I leave my bag at the desk so that I can hurry down the antiseptic hallway, my heart in my throat and stomach churning. When I spot Hollis and Jon outside the room, I break into a jog. She turns to see me, and before I can reach her, she’s rushing to meet me and gripping my waist.

  “I found him. They let me in his room when we couldn’t get a response.”

  “What did they say? Why is he here?”

  Jon appears by my side and rubs his palms over his face twice. “Alcohol poisoning. We should have said something earlier, Hol.”

  “Do not stress me out right now. Don’t. I’m not in a position to have a breakdown, do you understand?” She has a green pallor, and I can’t tell if it’s this situation or if she’s been having morning sickness.