by Aria Ford
I chuckled.
It was the day after Valentine’s, and my life was looking so much rosier.
CHAPTER TEN
Macy
I let the navigation system talk me through the crowded early-morning streets toward where Maddox wanted to meet up. The busy sidewalk slipped past me, everything fogged out by the wondrous haze of happiness that filled my stomach.
He really wants to see me. He wants to get back together. It’s incredible.
Of all the things I might have hoped for in my relationships, meeting Maddox again was one so big and so wonderful I wouldn’t even have written it down as a wish. Now it was here.
I sighed to myself, feeling my heart expand with joy.
The streets were becoming more crowded as I headed toward the location, the sidewalks sporting shopkeepers brushing their steps, joggers in bright, colorful singlets and shoppers heading out for the paper or breakfast or coffee.
“The destination will be on your right.”
“Oh.” I looked through the right window at the stoplight. The GPS was right, it seemed—there about five meters ahead was the Lifestyle Cafe.
Right. Parking. I made myself focus on the requirements ahead. I wasn’t going to let myself get distracted by thoughts of Maddox, by my memories of that other night. By wondering what it was he was up to and what he was thinking right now.
I spotted a sign for a parking lot and headed to it. My watch said ten past eight. I ran down the sidewalk to the cafe, my heart thudding in my chest.
At the door of the small, white-tiled, crowded cafe, I looked about, searching for Maddox. I breathed in the scent of coffee and toast into lungs ragged from running. There! I spotted him at the front, where the place opened onto a small terrace, looking at his phone.
“Hi!”
He looked up at me and beamed. “Macy. Great seeing you again.”
I swallowed hard, my body catching fire at the merest presence of him. I felt as if my skin had suddenly grown thin, every tiny shade of him hitting me like volts of electricity, straight to my nerve.
“Sorry I’m late,” I commented, drawing back my seat and sitting down. “Had some traffic problems.”
“Not at all,” he said with that warm, easygoing grin. “No worries. It’s my fault for picking this time.”
“No, it isn’t,” I said insistently, shaking my head. “It’s the right time for both of us.”
He smiled at me fondly. “Good.”
I blushed. I wanted to say something, but looking into his eyes, my mind was suddenly blank. “A sunny day,” I commented, looking out of the window behind him.
“Yeah,” he commented. Under the table his foot brushed mine. I stiffened and breathed sharply out. I moved my foot a little. Our legs touched. His knee pressed mine. My body stiffened.
His eyes caught mine and I knew what he was thinking. It was exactly what I was thinking too: why don’t we just call in sick and go home together?
I smiled at him. “You have plans for today?” I asked conversationally. The waiter appeared, and I took a cappuccino. He took a macchiato.
“I do,” he commented, stretching expansively. “For work too,” he added with a naughty grin.
“Mister Jefferson,” I said teasingly. “You are a disgrace.”
He laughed. It was a big laugh, warm and open. It made me grin, too, a pulse jumping in my chest that told me I was wildly excited about him.
“I am,” he admitted. “In answer, I have a guard session at the mall today from lunchtime to eight. And in the evening a session outside the club from nine to midnight.”
At that minute, his phone buzzed.
“Excuse me,” he said and brought it out. His brows raised as he read it and then he replied, typing hastily away, a small frown on his face.
I sat and waited. “So you’re working tomorrow, too, yes?” I asked.
His phone went again and he looked up, embarrassed. Then he answered again. I frowned. What was it that was so urgent? I decided to just ignore it, even though my suspicious mind was on full alert by now.
“Um, no…” he said, setting it aside. “Sorry, Macy. What’d you say?”
“I asked if you were working tomorrow?” I said levelly.
He paused. “Tomorrow, I…”
Just then, a woman appeared. She had been walking up the sidewalk, a bright pink shirt over midcalf slacks, a big tote bag over her shoulder. She had ragged-cut blond hair and a big, friendly smile, big white teardrop earrings that matched the pants.
“Maddox! There you are! Hi!”
Maddox turned around and saw her. She put a hand on his shoulder. “Hi, Claudia,” he said. He sounded a little strained. I wondered why.
“You didn’t say you’d be here!” she said in a big, effusive voice. “Great to see you! Can I join?”
“Um…” Maddox indicated me with a movement of his eyes.
“Oh! I see,” she said breezily. “Well, great to see you. I’ll be around. I’ll let you know later, huh?”
“Um, okay,” he said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Thanks.”
“Sure thing,” she called back as she turned away. “Bye!”
I saw the way she squeezed his shoulder as she left, saw how at home he seemed to be with the contact, reaching up to touch her hand as she took it away.
These two know each other well, I thought coolly.
He was uncomfortable too. He clearly wanted to be somewhere else. Was he embarrassed because he’d been caught with me? And why would she call later?
“Sorry about that,” he said in a small voice. “I train with her,” he explained.
“Oh.”
“You see…she’s a client,” he explained, face bright red. “She has to call about another, um, training session.” He shifted uncomfortably and looked at the menu. “You had breakfast?”
“Yes, I already had breakfast,” I said carefully. Was that an attempt to shift my focus? If so, I was prepared to let it happen, just for now. I wasn’t sure I really wanted to know. What sort of training session? I closed my eyes, willing myself not to be overly suspicious.
“Oh. Well, I wonder when the coffee’s coming up? Sorry…they’re slow in here. Ah!” he looked round fast as the waiter appeared, bearing a small wooden tray that contained our orders.
“Oh, yes.” I noted distantly, seeing the waiter approach from across the room. “Well, then. Here we are.”
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.”