CHAPTER SEVEN
Maddox
I drove to my apartment in half-awake haze of wonder. I wasn’t aware of anything—the cars, the buses, the pedestrians, the grayish fog of early morning as the sun slowly rose. All I was aware of was my own sweet memories.
So many memories of her. The way her body felt under mine. The way she tasted when I kissed her. The sweet sound she made when I entered her.
I went into my apartment and blinked. It was exactly the same as it had been when I left it the previous morning, but everything seemed so alien, as if someone else lived here for the last three years; someone I’d seen before and knew but never was.
I am not the same person as I was when I went out.
I stared at myself in the mirror. It was me, alright—the same hooded eyes and thin-lipped mouth, the strawberry-pale hair, and the same slightly tight-fitting suit. But inside I was different.
Last time I was here, I was still trying to tell myself I didn’t care about Macy anymore.
This time, I knew that I loved her.
“Wow.”
It was all I could say. I went through to make coffee and, while the kettle was on, I changed out of the suit into my normal work gear. I checked my schedule—I had to meet a client for a run at nine. It was 8:40 A.M. now. I quickly slid on my running gear and scrambled around the kitchen for a quick breakfast.
As I left the house, running to the bus stop to warm up, I relived the memories from that night. It had been completely surreal. From that magical evening when I had sat with her, talked with her—when I had danced with her, for goodness’ sakes—to the drive home and all that happened next. I felt as if something magical had happened; some ray of sunshine from another world breaking in on my ordinary life.
In the park, I saw my client, George Blake, waiting. I waved.
“Hey,” I called. A tall, spare man with the body of a marathon runner—if only he could find more time away from his work as a high-powered financier—he waved back.
“Hey.”
We set off together. I was trying to keep an eye on my client, trying not to push him or let him sink into the habit that he had of dragging his left leg that always resulted in a bad strain afterward. My mind wasn’t letting me do my job very well, though. It was preoccupied with memories of that night I’d just had. That unbelievable night.
As we rounded the edge of the park and headed out onto the street, sticking to the nice wide pavement on the right, I felt my own legs stretching and checked the time. We’d been at it for about half an hour already. George was looking surprisingly peaceful. When I first met him, he would have been sweating by now, but now he barely looked strained. I nodded to him.
“Great,” I said. He nodded back, breathing deep and regularly. As I thought earlier, he could be a great runner if he had time.
We rounded the block and headed back, planning on a circuit of the park again. When we finally stopped, stretching and sweating, my legs cramping just a little in the early morning cold air, he smiled at me.
“You look happy this morning,” he said mildly.
I blinked, surprised it was so obvious. “Thanks,” I said. I felt shy about it and found myself looking at the path, dotted here and there with patches of dew.
“A lovely morning,” he continued, bending to stretch his hamstrings.
“Uh huh,” I agreed, lunging to ease out the cramp in my calves.
“Springtime’s here, I reckon.”
“I think so,” I replied.
“Well, then,” he said when we were through with our stretches. “Thanks very much. Same time next time?” He shrugged a light pullover on over his running things, ready to go.
“If it suits you,” I agreed.
“Yup,” he nodded affably. “Always free on Thursday mornings.”
“Great,” I replied. “See you then.”
As he left, I wondered whether it was as obvious to everyone how happy I felt. I walked back through the park with an enormous grin on my face. Everything was beautiful today, from the kids playing on the lawn, to the dogs running around the flower beds, to the swallows, flitting high above the city just below the overhanging mists. I just felt wonderful.
As I drove back home again, the doubts started to set in. What was I thinking? Did I really expect that Macy Trent, executive at Trent Incorporated, was going to be interested in me? I sighed. Unlocked the door to my small, unassuming apartment and sat down heavily on the couch.
“Macy Trent,” I sighed. “You can’t really fall for me, can you?”
I looked around the apartment from the viewpoint of the sofa. My eye lingered over the cracks stain on the rug. The general impression of having been decorated in the late Eighties and left undisturbed. It was old and, let’s face it, a bit grim. The taps in the bathroom, I knew, still had the star-shaped handles that taps had when I was a kid, and the light in the kitchen had a chain pull that almost came out of the ceiling if you pulled it right.
I couldn’t even bring Macy in here, never mind expect her to stay.
It was all the old doubts all over again. I was the son of a convenience-store owner and she was the daughter of a multimillionaire. It wasn’t going to work.
“Oh well.”
I stretched, feeling the ache of cramp in my leg where it still objected to running in the morning chill, and headed through to the kitchen for coffee.
I checked my phone, but Macy hadn’t said anything. I chuckled.
What do you expect? To win an award for performance?
I breathed in the scent of the coffee and tried to calm down. To be pragmatic about things. In all fairness, I didn’t even know for sure Macy was single, much less anything else about her.
The clock told me it was eleven am. I had to be on shift at one at the mall. I called Neville, to see if he was around. He usually was, Thursday mornings.
“Hey?”
“Hey!” he said cheerfully in reply. “How’s it going?”
“Okay,” I sighed. “Um…can I ask you something weird?”
“Sure,” Neville said easily. “Why not?”
“Um, okay.” I drew in a deep breath. “It’s like this. Do you think a woman…um…high above my social standing…would like me. Like, like me?” I asked.
Long silence. “Nev?” I felt nervous.
He let out a long breath. “Well, let’s face it, Jeffers. You’re pretty good to look at, right?”
I huffed a laugh. “Thanks.”
“So…” he paused. “I think lots of women would like like you.”
He sounded uneasy and I frowned. “But what?”
“But, well…” he was clearly vacillating. “You know…what’s the word? Fickle. That’s it. Girls are fickle. They like the bling, y’know?”
I let out a long breath. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
“So, maybe this bird likes you. Maybe she doesn’t. I dunno. All you can do is ask her. Yes?”
I sighed. Asking Macy if she actually liked me. Given that, or given a job defusing bombs, I wasn’t sure which one I wanted. At least the bomb could just blow my head off. Having Macy’s undiluted honesty would break my heart.
“You’re right, Neville,” I said sadly.
He chuckled. “Hell, man. You sound like you have the bug here.”
I scowled. “Stop it, Nev,” I said, peaceably enough. “I’m doing my best here.”
He sighed. “I’m sorry, man,” he said. “I guess maybe I’m just living vicariously here, you know. Your life’s more exciting than mine is.”
I chuckled. “Nev, I don’t believe you.”
“Thanks,” he said fondly. “But really, it is. So all the best, seriously.”
“Thanks, man,” I said.
I got off the phone feeling low. I had been fairly sure I was right before I called. Now I was completely sure. Neville was right. No girl of her status would see anything in a guy like me.
I checked my messages again, just in case. When there was nothing, I put my phone resolutely in my kit bag and went to change for work. I just had to face it. It was a magical, magnificent, and memorable night. But it was just one night.
I was going to forget it happened. It was the best thing I could do. For both of us.