Commitment (37 page)

“She’s in love with you,” Sheila said, a fond smile lighting her eyes.

“Got a funny way of showing it.”

“Not funny at all.” With her free hand, she patted his cheek. “She wants you to
want
to marry her.”

“I
do
want to marry her.” The heat of his words melted whatever cool he had left. “Dammit, Sheila, I do want to marry her. She’s the only woman I’ve ever even thought about marrying. I bought a ring. I got down on one fucking knee!”

“Hush,” she hissed. Gripping his arm, she steered him to a corner and backed him in. “Of course she is.” She framed his face with her hands, but the cool strength of her palms only steamed him more. Her tone was soothing, but it did nothing to calm him. “She is. She is the only woman for you, Tom.”

The quiet confidence in the confirmation broke him. Turning away, the muscles in his throat worked on the brick lodged there. The damn thing wouldn’t budge. “Shit.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have mentioned the baby.”

His head swiveled. “What?”

“Oh, Tom.” She sighed. “A woman like Maggie wants to be loved. Wholly. Completely. Passionately.”

“I do.” He said the words, but they came in a weak whisper.

“Do you? Do you love Maggie, or do you love that baby she’s carrying?”

“What?” He shook his head, instinctively denying the unspoken implication. “I love
her
.”

“Are you sure?”

“I proposed. If that doesn’t say I’m sure, I have no fucking idea what will,” he sneered.

“Don’t you swear at me, young man.”

“I’m out of here.” The platinum band seared his palm as he started down the steps.

“She’s in love with you, Tom,” Sheila called after him. Grasping the glossy rail, his feet barely skimmed the plush carpet as he picked up speed. “She loves you so much she said no to the fairytale ending she’s always wanted.”

The slick sole of his shiny Italian loafer slipped off the bottom step. Gripping the newel post, he grappled for balance. He stared up at Sheila, transfixed. A serene smile tipped her lips as she floated down a few steps. “What?”

“Cinderella turned her Prince Charming down. Or would Maggie be Sleeping Beauty?” she mused.

“Sheila—”

The older woman cut him off with a brisk shake of her head. She continued down the steps until they stood eye to eye. She cupped his cheek gently then gestured beyond his shoulder. He turned to find the doorman standing just inside the revolving door holding a shiny black high-heeled shoe.

“Cinderella it is.” Sheila brushed a kiss to his cheek then gave him a not-so-gentle shove. “If the glass slipper fits, Sweetheart….”

Chapter Twenty-One

Maggie leaned from side to side, trying to stir some sensation in her
tush
. She stretched her legs, grimacing at the faint musty scent of industrial cleaner wafting from the carpet. Orange. Or lemon. Oddly enough, it didn’t make her want to hurl. At least, the stray citrus scent wasn’t at the
top
of her list of things that made her want to toss her cookies. At the moment, it wasn’t even close.

An intricate
berber
pattern pressed into the puffy skin of her ankles, but she didn’t have the energy or the inclination to rub it away. Her clutch purse disgorged its contents at her side. An ancient roll of Certs she unearthed from its depths lay in tatters in her lap. One shiny black shoe laid cast aside in the empty spot where a welcome mat should be. Maggie sighed, let her head fall back, and gazed listlessly at the ceiling.

She probably, most certainly, definitely wouldn’t be welcome here, but she wouldn’t go home. Couldn’t. And she had to go somewhere. After twenty minutes cruising Lake Shore Drive, the driver eyed his meter and started casting wary glances at the basket case in the back seat. She had to give him an address, so she blurted the first one that came to mind.

Not that this was any kind of refuge for her. She only knew the actual address from the mail that spilled from his briefcase or piled up on her coffee table. She probably would have been better off to go to Sheila’s. Then again, she didn’t want to have to loiter in the lobby making small talk with the doorman on duty. There was also a slim chance her friend would toss her out on her fat ass after the scene she and Tom created at her elegant fundraiser. Maggie didn’t think she would, but certainty wasn’t her strong suit at the moment. Hell, she wasn’t even sure what happened to her other shoe.

The entry door slammed shut, rattling the walls of the old row house. Heavy footfalls stamped the treads of the steps. She held her breath. Maggie didn’t need to see to know it was Tom. She knew his footsteps all too well.

They drew to a halt. His raspy breaths rattled in the empty hall. The familiar prickling sensation that danced over her skin whenever he drew near made her stomach twist. She knotted her fingers together in her lap.

“I’m sorry.” The apology tumbled from her lips before she could stop it. Opening her eyes, she fixed her gaze on the opposite wall. She needed to be calm and rational. She needed to set her girlish dreams and broken heart aside for the moment and focus on the reality of her situation. She needed to stop wishing on stars and keep her feet planted firm on the ground. Maggie figured it should be easy, now that she only had one shoe.

His knees creaked as he squatted beside her. “What are you doing here?”

The gentle rumble of his deep voice nearly broke her. Try as she might, Maggie couldn’t detect a single note of anger in his tone. Her stomach went into
freefall
. The treacherous thing reached up and snatched the hammering heart from her ribcage and sank to her toes. Of course he wasn’t angry. That would let her off the hook too easily.

Maggie wriggled her toes, a vain attempt to set her aching heart free. It didn’t work. She chanced a quick glance at him and nearly tumbled into the depths of those deep blue eyes. Her bitter laugh bounced off the pockmarked wall. She squinted at the discrete numbers attached to the door of his condo and shook her head. “I couldn’t go home, Tom.”

His heavy sigh pressed on her, squeezing the tears that clogged her chest into her throat. “I waited for you there.” He rocked back, falling onto his ass with a grunt. “Then I thought maybe you weren’t coming home because you knew I was waiting for you, and I—” He squinted at the paneled door. “I should have given you a key. I never thought to give you a key….”

“We never hung out here,” she said with a shrug.

“Still, you should’ve had a key.” He pressed the heel of his hand to the furrow between his brows. “Maggie, I—”

“I’m sorry—”

“Don’t—”

She shook her head, desperate to stop the apologies, needing to move past those two words, eager to explain. “I can’t marry you, Tom. It’s not that I don’t want to… I can’t.”

He propped himself against the opposite wall then fixed his gaze on her. That’s when she saw the shoe clutched in his hand. Every muscle in her body tensed. Determined not to squirm under cross-examination, she prayed she wouldn’t melt at the sight of her Prince Charming holding her lost shoe.

“You don’t believe me,” he concluded. “You don’t believe I want this, that I’m committed to you. To us.”

The flat resignation in his tone made her skin ripple. “It’s not that I—”

“I don’t blame you,” he continued conversationally.

He dropped the shoe and bent his knees, letting his head fall back against the wall but keeping his eyes locked on her. Maggie found it safer to focus on the long fingers skimming his shins. She didn’t want to think about the swirling pool of disappointment that threatened to swallow her whole the moment he set her black patent-leather slipper aside as if it didn’t matter.

“A year ago…hell, even six months ago I would have told you I’m not a very good bet.”

His chuckle was low and warm, wrapping around her like a hug. She glanced up. His soft, supple lips were twisted into a wry smile. The stubborn cowlick she’d fallen in love with sprang free.

“But I’m much more domesticated now,” he said, setting that cowlick to bobbing. The lock of dark hair fanned the scarred plaster and a rush of heat prickled her face. “I grocery shop, share my Cocoa Puffs and entertain your sadistic cat. I also give excellent foot massages. You said so yourself.”

“Tom, it isn’t that I—”

“And you’re forgetting the most important part of this whole crazy thing—”

She shook her head, plowing forward before he could run over her objections again. “I can’t, no matter how much I—”

“I love you, Maggie.” His voice crackled with sincerity, effectively slaying all opposition. She clamped her mouth shut, and he took full advantage. “I’m in love with you.”

Tears welled in her eyes, clinging to her lashes and scattering the light. Sparkles of fairy dust blurred her world. She tried to wish them away, blink them into oblivion, banish them with a hard shake of her head, but they refused to budge. She pressed her trembling fingers to his lips, a weak attempt to stem the flow of words made even weaker by the tender kisses he pressed to her fingertips.

“I want this, Maggie. I want all of it. You, our baby, even Fred. But more than that, I need it. I need you.”

His whispered confession tickled the kiss-dampened pads of her fingers. Buoyed by hope, her heart rose from her toes with astonishing speed. Her stomach followed, borne on the fluttering of bluebird wings. Maggie figured there were probably a few bat wings in there too, because the man was definitely making her batty.

Averting her gaze, she stared at the unadorned carpet at his doorstep. When it swam into focus once more, she sighed in relief. “You
need
a welcome mat.”

He wrapped his hand around her fingers, hold her snug in the palm of his hand. “No, I need you. No sense in dressing this place up since I listed it for sale last month.”

That got her attention. “You did?”

“Got an offer yesterday. Not bad. I countered, so we’ll see where we end up.” He kissed the tips of her fingers again. “I told you, I’m committed. I was hoping you’d take me in, or I’ll be homeless, Maggie.”

“You could rent,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “I want something more…permanent.”

“For now.” The words popped out before she could think them through, but his head snapped back as if she’d slapped him full-force.

He dropped her hand. Lounging against the wall once more, he fixed her with a challenging glare. “You think I don’t know what permanent means?”

“I think you think you know, but permanent has never been your thing.”

“And I can’t change,” he challenged.

“I’m only saying that permanent hasn’t even been in your vocabulary up ‘til now.” He sat up a little straighter, and she huffed in frustration. “I know you, Tom. You have a pretty extensive vocabulary.” When he opened his mouth to argue, she stopped him with the palm of her hand. “No. Let me finish for once, okay?” His jaw snapped shut with the satisfying click of teeth. Maggie smiled at the mulish set of his mouth. “I love you too, Tom. Honest, I do.”

“I know you do. What I don’t get is why you won’t say ‘I do’,” he grumbled. “I thought you were the happily ever after girl, Maggie.”

“Happily ever after.” She tipped her head back, blinking up at the ceiling. She pinched the silky fabric of her skirt and let it glide gently back and forth between her thumb and forefinger. “You know, I used to tease Tracy about hooking up with you all the time. Me hooking up with you, not her,” she was quick to clarify. “I mean, what a joke, huh? Mr.
Onenightstand
and Ms.
Happilyeverafter
—”

“I was never Mr.
Onesnightstand
,” he interjected.

Maggie raised an eyebrow. “Never?”

“Not as much as people thought I was.”

Heaving a sigh, she waved away his objection. “Doesn’t matter. What I’m saying is that maybe we should never have taken this,” she wagged a finger between the two of them, “seriously.”

“Seems to me you’re the one not taking it seriously.”

“How can I, Tom? How can I when I know it has to end? What happens when you decide permanent isn’t your thing after all? What do I do with my ever after then?”

“I won’t! That’s what I’m telling you. I
want
this, Maggie.”

“Want.” Anger spiked his volume and her impatience rose to match it. “Of course you wanted this. It’s been nothing but sex, sex and more sex. But will you still want this when I’m too huge to have sex? Will you still want me a year from now when I’m still trying to shed the baby weight? Will you want me in ten, when I’m fifty?” she demanded.