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…”
I trailed off, covering my face with my hands. It was as if all the sadness, all the misery, all the self-doubt and blame that sixteen-year-old girl had felt then was welling up inside me, condensed and concentrated and fueled with an adult rage.
“Macy, I…”
I looked up at him from over my fingers. He was sitting there uncomfortably, hands outspread, face a picture of confusion. My anger bubbled over then.
“Don’t you try and calm me,” I said icily. “I am so, so angry with you. I can’t believe that, after all these years, you tell me that you did what you did then because you didn’t want to hurt me! How could you not realize how much you did hurt me? How is it that you still, after all these years, miss that?”
He was looking at me helplessly. “Macy,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”
I wanted to say something like, “that sure helps,” but strangely enough, it actually did. The rage that had built and grown in me evaporated. I leaned back.
“Thank you.” I said in a small voice. “Now. Do you mind explaining the logic behind that?” I asked after a moment as my mind settled and started to think more clearly. “I would love to know how you thought that wasn’t going to hurt me.”
He sighed. “I thought…Macy, let’s be honest. You’re a millionaire’s daughter. I’m a boy from the backstreets of Vermont Hill, son of a convenience-store owner.”
“So?” I asked angrily. “I didn’t care about that. Did you? You saying that you didn’t want to be with me because my parents are wealthy?” I heard my voice crack on the last word, incredulity weaving through it like fire in grass. I couldn’t believe this.
He looked at me, helpless. “It isn’t that I was…that I judged you, Macy,” he said sadly. “I never judged you. Or them. Truly.”
“Well, that’s what that sounded like,” I said testily. My coffee was going cold and I drank another mouthful, holding it between my hands for warmth. In spite of the mild weather, I felt cold, a deep coldness inside me that didn’t seem to shift.
“It isn’t,” he said. “When I…” he paused. “My mom is from a very different background. She came from a well-educated family. Her dad’s a professor. She…I think she always resented being married to my dad. She never said that. But it was in every line of her. In the things she didn’t say. I didn’t want to do that to you.”
I stared at him. Put the cup down and leaned forward, looking into his eyes.
“Maddox Jefferson,” I said very softly. “You mean you broke up with me because you didn’t want to see me suffer?”
He was looking at his hands. “Yeah,” he said tightly. I could hear the emotion in his voice and it spoke to my heart, making it beat loudly.
“Well,” I said in the same soft voice. “I can tell you that I suffered every day after you left. I can tell you that I cried each night and wondered what it was that I’d done wrong. I wondered how it was that you could love me and then walk away. I thought I’d done something wrong. I thought there was something wrong with me. Something you couldn’t love.”
I was crying now, tears running silently down my face. I couldn’t believe how much sadness was still in me. I had thought this was all long forgotten about, all in the distant past. That I’d moved on. But it seemed I’d only become numb to it. The wound was still inside, still fresh. Still raw.
I heard him stand up. He walked across the floor and I thought he’d gone to look out of the window. My hands were over my eyes as I wept, loudly, and my shoulders heaved. Then, suddenly, I felt the couch dip a little and I felt a hand, soft and warm and tender, touch my shoulder.
“Macy,” he whispered, very gently, like he was taming a wild creature. “Macy.”
I sighed and let him hold me. I was sniffing, my face was wet with tears. I shook. “I must look charming,” I said with a shaky laugh as I wiped my nose on a napkin.
“Yes,” he said simply. “You do. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world, Macy Trent. I can’t believe you thought I didn’t love you.”
I drew in a deep shuddering breath. “You can’t believe I thought…you mean…” It was all too much to take in. Did he mean that?
“I mean it. I do love you, Macy. I think until I saw you again I never realized how much I do love you. But my world hasn’t been the same without you in it. I thought I could walk away. I can’t. Would you have me now?”
I stared at him. His eyes were looking into mine, brown and warm and gentle.
“Yes,” I said softly.
“Yes?”
“Yes!” I said. I was laughing and I wrapped my arms around him and dragged him back onto the couch and he was laughing too. He tickled me and I yelled and tickled him back and he laughed helplessly. It was like when we were sixteen again, only better. Because now all the barriers were gone. There was only honesty and truth.
“Maddox Jefferson,” I said, when we sat together, our breath steady now. My head was resting on his shoulder and his hand covered mine. We sat side-by-side, reveling in each other’s closeness.
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
He stared at me in disbelief. I laughed. I said it again.
“I love you, Maddox Jefferson. I always have. I love you exactly how you are. If you weren’t exactly who you are, in fact, you wouldn’t be you and then I wouldn’t love you.” I giggled, knowing it made perfect sense. “I love you, Maddox. Now and always.”