52. Byron
52
BYRON
N ow, imagine the nervous wreck I was, leaving Meg to stew over that contract. What made me think there was a chance she’d change her mind was carefully listening to her excuse when she said no to my proposal.
I was quite adept at listening between the lines, and I could hear the minx wavering.
But one thing that filled me with satisfaction was that the two million dollars wasn’t the deciding factor for her. How many other women would simply have said yes because of that?
So, as I was meticulously cleaning the kitchen, which by the way I loved doing, I waited. I waited for the minx to rush in where angels feared to tread and say she’d changed her mind.
If she said yes, it would give me at least a year to get her to fall in love.
I made two cappuccinos because they would go well with the biscotti for dessert. Whistling Hotel California , I made my way back to the bedroom, but Meg wasn’t there. Of course, she could have gone to the bathroom, so I put the tray down on the table.
It wasn’t until I saw BB’s phone beside mine on the bed that a cold wave of adrenaline, spiked with dread and nausea, coursed through my veins. Leaving me scrambling to think straight.
I couldn’t let Meg leave. Not like this. I had to find her and explain my side. I checked every cabin on the yacht, but she was nowhere to be found. I returned to the bedroom, desperate for a note, a trace, any hint of where she might have gone.
And then, through the window, I saw her. Standing on the deck below, wrapped in a blanket, small against the dark, like she belonged to the night and the moon.
The one comfort it offered was that she was still here.
I took my time walking toward her, words tangling in my throat, wondering what to say and how to say it. She had to hear me on the deck. Bare feet on old teak weren’t exactly subtle, but she didn’t turn around.
The breeze was whipping at her mass of black curls, and I wanted to weave my fingers through her hair and trace my tongue from the valley of her breasts, up to the column of her neck, until she arched into me, and I could kiss those succulent lips and never stop kissing her.
For me, there was so much teetering on this moment. I drew a deep breath.
“Even if you never want to speak to me again, I want you to know why I did it,” I said carefully, like I was putting glass down on stone.
She folded deeper into the blanket, as if she was trying to keep the world at bay. And yes, I came out only in my boxer briefs, and it was not a balmy night. But right then, I didn’t care if I froze my nuts off because they’d be of no use to me if she walked away.
“When Nelson said you’d be working from home, I panicked. I had no idea why you were upset with me, and I wanted to talk to you. I honestly didn’t think texting you would work, but not only did it work, it made me even crazier about you. And I swear I was going to tell you… I really was.”
She finally turned around, moonlight kissing her skin with a hush of silver. She was staring at me, almost curious, those big eyes glistening in scarce light. And wait, was that the hint of a smile curling her lips?
“Are you under the impression I’m mad at you?” she asked.
“You’re not?”
Her head tilted as if she wanted to get a better look at me from where she stood. “It would be nice to know how much of it was real.”
I sighed with relief. This, at least, I could explain. “My feelings are real, Meg. Every ridiculous thing I said I liked, every impossible dream I told you about, everything I felt for you…it was all real, all of that was me. The name Brett Bishop and living two states away were obviously not. But I had to think on my feet because I didn’t realize it would go beyond one chat, let alone going as well as it did.”
Her smile was wider this time. “Well, I showed you.”
A sliver of hope bled into the air. “I’m sorry, Meg. Believe me if I tell you how sorry I am.”
Biting her bottom lip, she stared back at the water. “You have nothing to be sorry about. Ever since Isabel left, I’ve been feeling unsettled and miserable and worried. But BB was there, he kept helping me breathe when I forgot how, and he pretty much held me together the last few days. Tonight, I was going to ask him what he thought of this ridiculous proposal I got from this guy I hardly knew. That’s how I discovered the phone.”
And there it was, the little treble of angst in her voice. The relief I felt was punctuated by guilt. I moved closer to her and brushed a stray curl from her face.
“What do you think BB would have told you, Meg.”
Her gaze met mine. And it struck me that the woman looking back at me was seriously grieving this loss of her friend BB. “I don’t know, he’s not there to ask anymore,” she said quietly. “But hey, let’s go inside, you must be freezing. You’re turning blue.”
“I’m so glad you said that. I can’t feel my face anymore.”
She held out her hand and I folded it into mine. “I should probably go home, though,” she said as we walked inside the warm cabin. “I have so much work to do this weekend. Your brother is merciless.”
I stopped her in the hallway. “Listen, I happen to have two laptops in the car,” I offered. “We could work, eat, watch a movie or two. Just you and me, here on the boat. We make the rest of the weekend ours.”
“Does that mean you’ll be hassling me about the marriage thing all weekend?”
“I will not say another word about that,” I promised. “Unless you say something first.”
She hesitated and smiled. “Well, we do have the Castle Rock project to start working on. So, it’s not the worst idea.”
“Not the worst idea… What a ringing endorsement. But I’ll take it.”
And there it was, that laugh of hers, lighting me up from the inside.
I ushered her to the bedroom, settled her into bed with the tray on her lap. “Why don’t you enjoy your cappuccino and biscotti. Let me get dressed, and I’ll get the laptops from the car.”
“I’m wearing your shirt.”
“Don’t you dare take my shirt off,” I told her. “There’s a sweater in the closet I can wear.”
I downed my cappuccino like a man returning to battle, and kissed Meg. “Please lock the cabin door behind me. I’d hate for you to get kidnapped like Aurora.”
Her laughter trailed in my wake as I stepped off the yacht and made my way to the Range Rover. The air was sharp, my breath blooming into white clouds, but a certain warmth had settled in my chest.
Meg was still here. Still laughing, somehow. If I could only help ease her sadness about BB, everything would be okay.
It was when I was nearing the Range Rover that an idea hit me. I climbed inside, put the heat on blast, and dug out BB’s phone. And then I replied to Meg’s last text.
BB: Talk to me. I’m here.
Twenty seconds. That’s how long the ellipsis pulsed on the screen like a heartbeat. Three little dots that made my own heart thud in my ears.
Only for them to disappear again.
I stared down at the screen, willing them to come back, and when they didn’t, I leaned my head back against the headrest and closed my eyes. And waited.
Love, I decided, was not for the faint of heart. Or the impatient. Or the arrogant.
Now, more than ever, I had the barest of inkling what Roman was going through. For a second, I wondered if it was all really worth it. And I decided, yes, yes, hell yes, it was.
Then, for what seemed like an eternity, my phone finally dinged.