Chapter 32
Thirty-Two
After we’ve had dessert and the dishes are put away, we watch Wyatt and Nanners. For a solid hour, the two play while Maggie and I watch and laugh. Nanner’s is almost like a new girl with her name and Wyatt here to play with.
“It’s really too bad your dad is allergic,” I say after Wyatt and Nanners have both fallen asleep on my living room carpet. “He loves this.”
Maggie sighs, peering down at her nephew and my cat curled up to his side. “You have banana cream pie in the fridge, you play soccer, and you’ve presented him with a kitten. This might be Wyatt’s heaven.”
I think it might be Maggie’s heaven, too. Wyatt, kittens, and it might just be wishful thinking, but maybe… me.
Maggie leans back on the couch, just one foot away from me. “I’m sorry we interrupted your night. I didn’t mean to send your friends home,” she says, her tone low.
My brow cinches. “Don’t be sorry. Interrupt anytime you want.”
She scoffs out a humorless laugh. “I can only imagine what Wade and Tru are thinking. Besides, it’s—”
I lift my hand and lean in, pressing one finger to her lips. If the woman talks about the rules one more time, I’m going to issue her a yellow card in my home. “It’s okay,” I assure her. “Can I ask why you came?” I’m not crazy—I could hear the stress in her text when she asked to come.
She presses her rosy lips together, forcing my gaze to her mouth. “That weekend with Brent my sister was considering—the one I told you about in Denver. She decided to go.” Her jaw tightens. “They left today.”
“Her boyfriend. I remember him.”
“Yeah. They’ve been talking online, and then several weeks ago, they met in person.” She folds her hands together. “The horrid blind date you caught me on. That’s the reason I was there.”
“To chaperone your sister.”
“Not chaperone. Protect. Lindy’s been through a lot. I couldn’t let her go out with a man she’d never really met.”
“I understand.”
She huffs, peering down at her nephew, who stretches out on my floor. Nanners follows suit, stretching with him. “And now she’s spending the weekend with him.” Her jaw flexes. “They’re here. In Tesoro. And—”
I lift my brows, most likely willing to help her however she needs. “You want to spy on her?”
“No,” she snaps, and Wyatt flinches. “Not spy,” she whispers. “I wouldn’t spy on her. But if she needed me, it would take me an hour to get to her.”
“Forty minutes.” We aren’t all that far apart.
“Still, if it takes me forty minutes to get to her, I might be too late. If something happened.” She sighs. “I’d never forgive myself.”
I study this woman, knowing my vovó would very much approve.
“And yet,” I say, remembering how hard it was for Vovó when I came to the United States.
She couldn’t come with me. My scholarship did not include her room and board.
She had to stay in our village. I keep my tone tender. “You cannot be with her at all times.”
“Maybe not—”
“Or him,” I say, nodding to Wyatt.
“That’s where you’re wrong.”
I snicker. Maggie McCrae is a feisty one.
“What?” she says.
“Are you sure you aren’t his mother? You have all the growl of a mama bear. And I’d guess the bite as well.”
She breathes out a sigh and settles herself into the cushions of my couch. “I get a little protective. But believe me, I don’t get to call myself his mom.”
“Maybe not. But I think you’re still his parent. Aren’t you?” It’s a personal question, one that she doesn’t need to answer. The truth is written all over her face.
Maggie licks her lips and adjusts in her seat. “I’m perfectly content calling myself his favorite auntie.”
I study her through a squint. I don’t completely believe her, but I play along. “He’s lucky to have you.”
“I make mistakes all the time—Lindy, too. But Wyatt.” She shakes her head, her eyes turning glassy. “He doesn’t deserve anything but the best. He’s the sweetest boy ever.”
“He is a good kid. I haven’t been around a lot of kids. But I’m partial to yours.”
Her lips twitch, and the right side perks upward in a half smile. “Me, too.”
“Yes, but you’re biased.” I refrain from winking—I don’t think Maggie likes winking. “So, you came not to spy, but to be close by.”
“Yeah. And, I guess…” Maggie looks at me. Her eyes don’t wander or skirt mine this time. She peers right through me. “I guess I needed a distraction.”
“So, you’re here, in my house, to distract yourself.”
She swallows. “Maybe.”
“I am completely fine with that,” I say. I rest my arm over the back of the couch, inching myself a little closer to her. “You’re a lovely person, Margaret McCrae.”
She scoops a lock of hair behind her right ear, her nose wrinkling. “Margaret?”
“It’s your name.”
“I’m very much just Maggie. Margaret is a grandmother who drinks tea and plays Scrabble.”
“Maybe. But I’m quite fond of grandmothers.” I edge a millimeter closer to her. Another three inches and her thigh might brush mine. “I was raised by an angel grandmother.”
“An angel? Now who’s biased?”
I shake my head. “Not biased. Just stating the truth.” With my arm stretched out across the back of this couch, I brush my fingers just over her shoulder blade. My fingertips find the small sliver of skin at the edge of her shirt. “She was a protective parent, too.”
She studies me. “You didn’t find it annoying?”
“I knew that she loved me dearly. She made me believe that I was the most loved being in the world. How could that ever be annoying? I think your Wyatt probably feels similar.”
“You think? I just—” She sniffs. “I just want him to know he’s wonderful and loved unconditionally.”
“He does.”
And then, Maggie McCrae does something I didn’t see coming.
She leans across the small gap between us and presses one soft honey-pear kiss to my lips.
It’s short and supple and sends flickers of heat through my entire body.
I’m not sure one little kiss has ever caused such a sensation in me before.
It’s not only the physical closeness of this woman, but the emotional connection I feel when I’m with her.
Cupping her cheek, I lean in to repeat the process. I’d very much like to try that again. But Maggie recoils, her eyes wide. “I shouldn’t have done that. I didn’t—”
“Oh, you did.”
“But I shouldn’t have. And I didn’t mean to.
You said all those sweet things”—she shakes her hands—“and I lost my mind for a second.” She gulps, and when I move one inch her way, she lurches back into the couch cushions.
She leaps from her seat and just manages to not step on her nephew’s head.
Maggie gasps, slapping a hand over her mouth.
Crouching down, she presses a soft kiss to Wyatt’s temple and whispers, “Oh buddy, I’m sorry. ”
But she missed him. He has no idea he was almost flattened.
I stand too. “Maggie—”
“Wyatt,” she says, shaking his shoulder. “Hey, sweetie. It’s time for us to go. Come on, bud.”
His little eyes blink, but he doesn’t look ready to move. “Nanners?”
“Maggie, let him sleep. It’s fine. We—”
“Really, we have to go. Lindy would kill me if she knew we were in Tesoro and…” Her head bobbles in a shake. “And clearly I need sleep or sanity or something.”
“No—”
“I’m sorry, Lucca. I’m so sorry. I—” She huffs, then slides her arms beneath Wyatt’s body. “Come on, bud,” she groans, hefting him up into her arms. Nanners stretches, her eyes blinking open. Maggie has taken away her snuggle buddy, and we’re both upset about it.
“At least let me take him.”
“I can do it,” she says. “Once he’s out, he’s out, and he’s like moving the dead.”
This time, I don’t ask, I reach for him, scooping him beneath the legs, and move him from Maggie’s hold to mine.
The little boy feels a whole lot longer and heavier when he’s sleeping.
His arms wrap around my neck, and his head rests on my shoulder.
He snuggles against me, not unlike how he and Nanners did just seconds ago.
My heart swells—it’s not just Maggie I’m growing attached to.
“Where do you want him?” I ask her.
“My car—clearly my car. I’m leaving.” Her hands flare nervously. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I didn’t mean to— Ugh—” She squeezes her eyes shut. “Why did I come here?”
Before I can answer that rhetorical question, she charges for the door to my apartment. I follow her to the elevator, where I will have half a dozen floors to convince Maggie she isn’t crazy. She should absolutely be kissing me.
The doors open and she hurries inside the elevator. I heft Wyatt up in my arms and step inside.
Her fingers drum against her thigh and her toe taps.
“Can we talk about this?” I ask.
“Nope. I don’t think that’s necessary. A mistake was made. I said sorry. You’re the forgiving type, right?” Her words chirp like an anxious bird.
“There’s nothing to forgive—” But I don’t say anymore. On floor three, the elevator opens, and Sawyer steps inside. For the first time in my four years as a Red Tail, I wish I didn’t live in an apartment building with the majority of my team.
“Lucca,” he says, flicking his head my way. He squints, eyeing the limp child in my arms. And then, before he can stare too long, he glances at Maggie. “McCrae?” he says, almost startled.
“Hello, Sawyer.” She swallows, and the nervous bounce of her left leg speeds up.
“Are you—” He looks at me. “Were you just—”
“Leaving,” she says. “Lucca was nice enough to visit with my nephew, who is a fan. Big fan. And now we’re leaving. That’s all.”
The elevator door opens again, and she’s out the door—except we’re on floor two. What else can I do? I’m literally carrying her child. So, I follow the anxious woman.
“Is there someone else you wanted to visit?” I say, Wyatt growing heavier and heavier by the second.
“Um, no. I—” She looks back just as the elevator door presses shut. “I just didn’t like the way he was looking at us.”
“You’re right. Just by looking at you, he knows how much you want me.” I’m trying to tease her, to ease that worry wrinkle forming down the center of her forehead. But it only deepens its crease.
“Shut up,” she says. “Isn’t there a stairway in this place?”
“To your right. And sure, I don’t mind carrying your dead weight nephew all over this building. Don’t worry about me.”
“Great,” she huffs, turning right. “Let’s go.”
Clearly my sarcasm didn’t translate. I heft little Wyatt into a more secure hold and stay right on Maggie’s heels as she pushes open the stairwell door. It’s only one floor down. I’ll be fine. Maggie, I’m not so sure.
“You know, none of this is a big deal,” I say when we’re in the privacy of the stairwell.
“Sure. For you. They won’t get rid of you. They’ll fire me.”
“Maggie,” I say, stopping on the landing and banking on how much she loves this kid. She won’t leave, not while he’s in my arms. “I would never let that happen.”
“Not everything is in your control, Saint Lucca.” She reaches out, snagging onto the end of the sleeve of my shirt, and pulling me behind her.
“We’re back to name-calling.” I sigh. “Great.”