“And that surprises you?” Kate asked.
“Well, Cal has never been the most organized or well-planned person, so I didn’t expect them to have such a detailed and careful course of action.” She shrugged.
“And you’ve let go of any thoughts that Spence is taking advantage of Cal’s friendship by joining the venture?”
“God, don’t remind me how bitchy I was to him back then. And no, I don’t think he’s taking advantage. Even if Cal is footing the financial bill, Spencer is fully involved. He works damned hard, and he’s put in a lot of full days and late nights helping get the space ready. Cal is lucky to have him. What?” she demanded when Kate’s mouth twitched like she was holding back a smile.
“It’s just quite a turnaround. He’s really charmed you, and I mean that in a good way.” Kate reached over and squeezed Maggie’s hand.
“Yeah,” she admitted. “He wasn’t what I expected.”
Kate narrowed her eyes slightly and tilted her head to the side. “You’re really serious about him, aren’t you? Like serious-serious.”
“Serious-serious? When did we go back to high school? Yes, Kate, I’m serious-serious about him. I hope he asks me to go steady with him.” Maggie batted her eyes. When Kate just stared at her, she sighed. “Yes,” she repeated. “It’s serious. I think… God, I’m falling for him. Hard.”
The admission had her inhaling deeply and pressing a hand to her jumping stomach. Though the thought had been swimming around her head for a while now, saying it out loud made it incredibly real.
“Oh.” Kate blinked rapidly, her eyes glassy.
“Oh shit, don’t cry.”
She waved a hand in the air. “Hormones, they’re a bitch. Honey, I’m so happy for you!”
“Well, don’t go popping the champagne yet,” Maggie said dryly. “I don’t know if Spencer is on the same page, if we want the same things long-term.”
“You need to have the talk.” Kate nodded solemnly.
“You think, oh wise one?” Maggie shook her head. “I know we do, but…”
“But what?” her friend prompted.
“What if he doesn’t want the same things? What if he decides he wants to go back to his old life, traveling around on his own?” Maggie cringed at her wobbly tone.
“You just said how involved he was with the gallery and everything,” Kate reminded her. “He’s sounds like a man putting down roots, not someone who has itchy feet.”
Maggie nodded, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. She knew what Kate said made sense, but there was a part of her that worried the charm of small-town living would wear off, and Angel Lake wouldn’t be enough to hold him. Okay, that she wouldn’t be enough. That’s what it came down to. Her insecurities and fears.
“Honey, you need to sit down with him and just lay it all out. Tell him what you’re thinking, feeling. Come clean about it all. Let him do the same.”
Maggie snorted. “What would he need to come clean about?”
When Kate averted her gaze and started twisting the hem of her shirt, Maggie’s heart sped up. She’d known the other woman almost her whole life, and she damned well knew when Kate was nervous, or obviously regretting something she said.
“Kate,” she said sternly. “What would Spencer have to come clean about? What do you know?”
“Maggie, don’t,” Kate pleaded.
“Don’t what? Damn it, Kate, I’m falling in love with the guy. If you know something, some secret, please don’t keep it from me. Especially something that could ruin things.”
“It’s nothing bad,” she said in a rush. “It’s not like he’s married or anything.”
“Well, that’s a relief,” Maggie snapped, throwing her hands in the air. “I’m not the other woman; I can sleep well now.”
“Maggie, be serious.”
“I am!” Maggie closed her eyes and took a deep breath before looking at her friend again. “Please tell me.”
Kate sighed. “All right. You don’t know everything about him. You assume Cal is footing the bill for everything, but have you ever discussed finances with Spence? You assume he’s a poor artist, scraping by for the love of his art. I know you, Maggie. Some of your worries for the future are what you see as his lack of suitable employment.”
Maggie couldn’t deny that, but she wasn’t dwelling on it. She certainly didn’t need anyone supporting her. And Spencer had certainly shown himself to be responsible with everything he’d been doing. She was willing to overlook his chosen profession since he was clearly branching out and taking on something more secure with Cal.
When she said as much to Kate, her friend shook her head.
“You aren’t listening to me. He doesn’t need you to ‘overlook’ anything, and do you realize how shallow that sounds?”
“Shallow?” Maggie squeaked. “I’m saying I’m accepting him as he is; how is that shallow?”
“Because you’re acting as if it’s such a trial, and that you’re so big to do it.”
“That’s not true,” she protested. “I—”
“Think about it. If you heard someone say, my boyfriend is just a janitor, but that’s okay, I can overlook that, wouldn’t you think that’s a bit snobby?”
“I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant, it doesn’t matter to me as much as I thought it did before, and obviously, he’s moving on to other things, so…”
Kate shook her head. “He’s doing that because he wants to, not because he needs to.”
“All right,” Maggie said, giving up. There wasn’t any point arguing about this.
“No, I mean, he’s successful. With his art. He doesn’t need a hand out. In fact, he’s a full partner in the business with Cal. Your brother isn’t carrying him at all.”
Maggie’s stomach clenched. “I think I’d know if that was the case.”
“Why? Have you asked him about it? Or just sit with your assumptions all this time?” Kate pressed her lips together a moment. “I’m not trying to slap you down, hon.”
“I know.” Maggie shrugged.
“You’re pissed.”
“No, I’m not.” Honestly, she didn’t know what she was. Shocked, because there was this side of Spencer she knew nothing about, that he hadn’t shared with her. But did it even make a difference in anything at all?
Kate glanced at her watch and groaned. “Damn, I have to go. Do you care if this pregg-o uses your bathroom real quick?”
Maggie smiled. “Of course not.”
Once alone, she sat dumbly for a moment then snatched her laptop from the coffee table. It took no time at all to Google “Spencer Reed”, and feel more shock sweep through her as she scanned through the list of results on the screen.
She clicked an article about a Los Angeles showing. As she scanned the text, she felt her mouth drop open. The praise, the reception of his work, and dear God, the dollar amount they quoted for one of his pieces…
Kate strode back in the room and stopped beside Maggie, laying hand on her shoulder. She cocked her head and looked at the computer screen, where a photo of one of Spencer’s painting was highlighted. “His stuff is good. Real good.”
“Yeah.”
“You sound surprised. Haven’t you ever seen any of his work?” Kate asked.
Maggie opened her mouth then snapped it shut again, not wanting to admit that she never had. Never asked to. God, what did that say about her?
“Anyway, I’d better run. Call if you need to talk; otherwise, I’ll see you tomorrow at the store.” She leaned over and hugged Maggie tightly. “Love ya, girl.”
“Love you too,” she said absently, already clicking another link.
Reading article after article, viewing photo after photo, Maggie lost track of time. How could he have kept this from her? Granted, she hadn’t asked specifically, but to not mention such a huge part of his life? To let her believe Cal was bankrolling their business? That didn’t speak well for where he wanted this relationship to go.
Myr
iad emotions competed inside her. Shock, of course. She couldn’t deny the small amount of anger she felt. He’d lied to her. By omission, yes, but lied the same. But none of that compared to the hurt. She closed her eyes. The pain that came from realizing he didn’t want to share this part of him with her overwhelmed her.
And where did that leave them? She shut the laptop and set it aside, then bracing her heels on the edge of the couch, she rested her chin on her knees. Her stomach churned and roiled. She hadn’t really known how much she’d become attached to Spencer, how much she wanted that future with him until now. She struggled not to let all those rioting emotions completely overtake the hope that they would talk this through and come out golden on the other side.
Now, she just had to wait for him to come home.
Chapter Nine
Spence ran a hand through his hair as he pushed open the door to his apartment. The fact the living area was empty didn’t surprise him. It was late. After dealing with stuff alongside Cal most of the day, Spence had worked on his current piece—which he hoped to have done for the upcoming show—and had completely lost track of time. Maggie had probably already gone to bed; he knew she had to open the bookstore in morning. He crossed to the kitchen and pulled a beer from the fridge. He popped the top of the bottle and on his way to the couch—thinking he’d catch the highlights of the ballgame on ESPN—he noticed the light on in the bedroom. Was Maggie still up or had she fallen asleep reading, as was her habit, he wondered with a smile.
Crossing the room to the doorway, he peered in and found Maggie sitting on the bed, her back against the headboard, book face down in her lap.
“Hey, darlin’.” He took a swig from the bottle and entered. He sat on the edge of the mattress and studied her. “I thought you’d be sleeping by now.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” she said dully.
Spence frowned. “What’s wrong?”
She shook her head and met his gaze. He reached over and squeezed her knee, then ran his hand down to her ankle. She watched his movements, corners of her mouth turned down slightly and brow wrinkled.
“Something’s obviously bothering you,” he said, tracing her anklebone. “Talk to me.”
She snorted and pulled away, wrapping her arms around her now bent legs.
Spence stiffened then stood. He set his beer on the dresser and faced her. “What’s wrong? Are you pissed at me or something?”
“Or something,” she murmured.
“Well, then let’s talk about it,” he said, exasperated.
“I—” She took a deep breath. “Kate mentioned something today.”
He waited a beat, then prompted, “And?”
She straightened slightly and met his eyes. “I Googled you.”
Ah well, there it is.
“I see,” he said.
“That’s it?” she said, wide-eyed. “I see?”
“What do you want me to say, Maggie?” Weariness weighed on him.
“Tell me why you lied to me,” she demanded. “Tell me why I had to find out in passing conversation that the man I’m with has a whole other life I’m oblivious to.”
“First of all, I never lied to you,” he said firmly, pushing down his anger at the accusation. “Second, have you ever once asked me about my work? I wasn’t hiding anything from you, Maggie, but I’m not going to go on and on about something you so obviously find distasteful and below your notice.”
“That is not fair,” she cried. “And don’t try to turn this around on me. I didn’t keep things from you.”
“Neither did I!”
“The hell you didn’t.” She unfolded her legs and stood abruptly. “When you’re with someone, in a relationship, you share things! You talk about what you do for a living, for God’s sake!”
“You’ve known since we met what I did for a living,” he ground out.
“But not that you were successful. That’s a pretty huge thing to leave out, Spencer. You didn’t tell me that you were partners with Cal; that you were invested as much as he is. Why would you let me believe that—?”
“That I was a freeloading loser?” Anger hardened his words, heated his face.
“No. Damn it.” She shoved her hands through her hair. “I just don’t understand.”
“Not once have you ever asked about my work,” he stated. “You pretended it didn’t exist, because from the moment you heard the word ‘artist’, you had me all figured out, didn’t you? When I come up from the studio, you wouldn’t even acknowledge what I was doing. You’re more than happy to discuss the gallery and what Cal and I are doing with the business, but my actual work, the thing I love, you ignored. Completely.”
He couldn’t push away the hurt of those facts. He wanted her to be a part of his life—all of his life. Maybe he should have told her long before now, but God, was it too much to ask for her to ask? To want to know more about what he did, to show the slightest bit of interest?
Maggie’s mouth quivered, and a few tears escaped and trailed down her cheeks. “You could have told me,” she whispered.
“Why? So you could mark it on your list of future husband qualifications? Financially independent; check. Do I fit the bill now, Maggie? Am I worthy of you now?”
“How can you say that? I’m with you—”
“And you made it clear in the beginning I was an itch for you to scratch, that we had an expiration date. Then you could move on to your serious search for a man.”
Her cheeks reddened and she looked down guiltily.
“Did it occur to you that I wanted you to want me for who I am? My art? It’s a part of me, a huge part.”
“It’s a part you didn’t share with me,” she shouted. “Okay, I should have asked about it, shown an interest, I get that. But when you keep such a big part of yourself away from me, how can I even know you?”
“Maybe you don’t,” he tossed back.
She inhaled sharply. “Clearly I don’t.” Crossing to the closet, she slid her feet into her shoes, and picked up her purse where it lay on the floor.
His heart squeezed painfully, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her to stay. He shouldn’t have to beg to keep her here with him.
She lifted her gaze to his as she draped the strap of the small bag over her arm. “I-I—”
“Leaving?” he snapped. “I guess I don’t quite match your perfectly ordered idea of a man, huh?”
“I need some time to think,” she said quietly, moving toward the door.
He stepped in front of her. “Good idea, and while you’re at it, think about this. You may be able to find that man who fits all your requirements and looks perfect on paper, but he will never make you feel the way I do. And you can think of that for the rest of your life with Mr. Perfect. Think of me when he takes you to bed, when he’s inside you and you’re wishing it was me.”
As soon as he spoke, he regretted the words. He inwardly cringed. Fuck, going off like that wasn’t helping at all.
“Please move,” she said tightly, looking over his shoulder. “I’d like to leave now. Please.”
The note of pleading killed him, but his anger and frustration was too close to the surface, so he just stepped aside and let her pass. When the sound of the door closing echoed through the apartment, Spence turned his eyes to the now-empty bed. He slammed his palm against the door and pain radiated up his arm.
“Fuck.”
Maggie hurried down the stairs and outside to her car. Her heart raced and her breaths came out in quick pants, but she managed to hold it together as she got in her car and drove home. As she parked and hurried up the path to the porch. Held it all together until she saw her mom sitting on the porch swing in the dark, slowly swaying back and forth.
Then she burst into tears.
“Oh sweetheart!” Angela Monroe jumped to her feet and came to her. “What’s the matter?”
She led Maggie up the stairs and guided her to sit on the swing. Sitting beside her daughter, Angela wrapped her arm arou
nd Maggie’s shoulders.
“Spencer and I got into a fight.” Maggie drew in a shaky breath. “I think I messed it all up.”
“Come on then,” her mom prodded. “Tell Mom about it, sweetie. It’ll help.”
Through tears, Maggie spilled it all out—what she’d learned from Kate and the internet search, confronting Spence, and the resulting argument.
“Go ahead,” she said weakly, leaning into her mother and leaning her head on her shoulder. “Tell me I was a bitch, and I don’t deserve him anyway.”
“Oh, Maggie.” Angela sighed. “Always so black and white.”
“It’s okay,” Maggie insisted. “I can take it. You don’t have to hold back because you’re my mom. You know my faults better than anyone.”
The older woman chuckled. “That I do, but you’re being too hard on yourself. And I’m certainly not going to kick you when you’re hurting.” She rubbed up and down Maggie’s arm soothingly.
“But I screwed any chance we had.”
“Every couple fights, and in my experience, it’s a rare thing if the fault falls on only one of them. Right now…” She twisted slightly, and when Maggie straightened, she whisked the wetness from her girl’s cheeks. “You’re going to go to bed and give both of you the chance to cool down.”
Maggie gave her a shaky smile. “Thanks, Mom.” She stood and looked down. “You’re waiting until I’m not a mess before telling me what you really think, aren’t you?”
Angela chuckled and rose as well. “Ah, sweetie, you know me too well. I’m not shy about giving my opinion. I’ll always be honest with you, but remember something. No matter what, this mama loves you; and I’m always on your side.”
Tears stung Maggie’s eyes again. “Love you too, Mom.”
“Now to bed, Margaret Mary Monroe.”
“Yes, Mama,” she quipped.
As they walked arm and arm into the house, Maggie tried to push everything out of her mind so she could sleep. She needed rest so she had a clear head when she faced Spencer again. Of course, that was easier said than done. His face filled her mind when she closed her eyes for the night, and he danced through her thoughts until sleep finally claimed her.
Losing Control Page 10