Chapter 9
Ian
Maggie.
She’s in Jack’s house.
It pisses me off that the second she was close enough to touch, every cell in my body seemed to forget that she shattered me. My body practically vibrated with infuriating energy that zipped between us.
I’ll never admit to anyone that this isn’t the first time I’ve seen her since that day. Because that would require admitting that, on occasion, I’ve sat in the parking lot of her building in a Nash Security SUV so she doesn’t recognize it and watch her walk to and from her car.
That seems a little too much like stalking.
But it wasn’t. It was simply me needing to see her. I couldn’t say if it was because I needed to know she was okay, or if it was because I wanted to see if the attraction I felt for her was all in my head. Time had passed, but the pain I felt made it seem like something more than it was.
Every time I saw her, even from a distance, my body told me I was lying to myself. That it was very real and not at all only in my head.
Today’s no different.
Maggie took my breath away. Her glasses gave me all kinds of kinky librarian fantasies that I shouldn’t have been thinking about when it comes to a woman who hates me.
But for a brief moment when she first turned around and saw me, something crossed her face that almost convinced me that hate wasn’t how she felt at all. But it was gone just as quickly as it came. Maybe I just saw what I’d hoped would be there.
Either way, I’m now sitting in my car, my stare fixed on Jack’s house. When I walked out the door an hour ago, I couldn’t bring myself to leave. I have no idea what I plan to do when Maggie walks out. Maybe it’ll be like all the times before. Or maybe I’ll finally get to talk to her again.
My chest aches as I heave out a breath. The last couple of months have been some of the most difficult of my life. Who knew repairing the lifelong trauma I’ve endured would be almost as awful as living through it all the first time? Not me, that’s for damn sure.
I still meet with Pamela twice a week as friends.
I hate not compensating her for helping me, but she insists that what she’s doing is already obliterating any lines of professionalism and that she’d stop seeing me if I tried to.
She’s begrudgingly allowed me to do things for her that at least make her life a little easier, though.
I took her car to get new tires so that she wouldn’t have to worry about transportation to and from her office between clients.
Then I fixed their lawn mower a few months ago.
Those menial tasks will never come close to making us even for what she’s done for me, but it makes me feel better.
As my thumb taps mindlessly on the steering wheel, my eyes narrow. What the hell are they doing in there? It’s almost ten.
My frustrated groan is loud in the silence of the night as I drop my head back against the headrest. While I’ve spent my days fixing myself and working my ass off for Jack and Nate as they continue to grow the business, it’s at night that Maggie comes back to haunt me.
I remember every emotion being with her brought out in me, especially the ones I thought I’d never feel.
I’m tortured by the memories of every time we had sex.
She was the best sex I’ve ever had that I haven’t even bothered to try to sleep with someone else.
Any time the opportunity has presented itself, I’m reminded of how mind-blowing we were together.
I know it’ll never be the same with anyone else, so I figure, why bother?
Distant voices have my head popping up. Ella stands at the door, giving Maggie a hug, her lips moving as she says something to her that I can’t make out. My hand tightens around the steering wheel until my joints hurt. The need to have my arms wrapped around Maggie again rages through me.
As Ella releases Maggie, she steps back and says something while gesturing wildly. A smile pulls at my lips. I love that she has Ella as a friend. No matter how difficult this is going to be for me to see her all the time.
The women wave one last time before the door closes, and Maggie turns to the street, her arms around her middle as if she’s cold. But it’s August, so that can’t be. It’s too dark to be able to make out the expression on her face as she walks slowly to her car.
My hand grabs the door handle. But I freeze.
What’s the plan, Ian? You can’t just say hi, how are you, like nothing happened.
I press my lips together in annoyance as my hand drops to my thigh. My heart breaks all over again as I watch her car pull away from the curb and drive away from me.
I shift in my seat and clear my throat. “I saw her last night.” I don’t specify who I’m talking about. I’ve already told Pamela about Maggie and my feelings for her.
Pamela’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? On purpose?”
Shaking my head, I wipe my clammy palms on my pants. “Definitely not. I think we were both shocked.” I wet my lips before continuing. “Apparently, she’s Ella’s best friend.”
“You’re fucking kidding me.” Pamela’s gasped response makes me chuckle.
“Should my therapist be saying fuck?”
She glares at me. “Your friend is allowed to say whatever the fuck she wants while you have a friendly conversation with her.”
I smirk. Even though she’s doing me a favor, I can’t help but give her a hard time. We really have become friends throughout our time together.
“Noted.” My lips drop into a frown. “But no, I’m not kidding.”
She sobers. “What are you going to do? It doesn’t seem like you’re going to be able to avoid her unless you leave Nash and stop being friends with Jack and Nate. Neither of those will go over well with the guys.”
I swallow hard. “I don’t want to do either of those things. But I also don’t know what I am going to do.”
“What do you want to do?”
I huff out a humorless laugh. “I want to tell her that she was wrong about me and that I’m not this fucked-up guy who isn’t good enough for her.
” My stomach clenches at the vulnerability I’m still getting used to showing when I admit, “I want to beg her to give me a second chance. To prove that I’m better. ”
Pamela gives me a sympathetic look. “Ian, I know this is hard for you to accept, but even before you came to me, you weren’t fucked up. And you were more than good enough for anyone. And if this woman couldn’t see it, she wasn’t good enough for you.”
She’s right—that is hard for me to accept. But she’s wrong about something else.
Maggie was more than good enough for me. She was perfect.