Chapter 15
T he next week was a blitz of meetings, so many, many meetings Maggie lost track. They all went by different names: briefing, de-briefing, rundown, conference, session, consultation, prep time. But in Maggie’s mind, they were all a mind-numbing parade of bureaucracy. She only saw Ridge once during the week, when he accompanied her to her polygraph. In addition to all the meetings, she had to be thoroughly investigated to make sure she hadn’t lied about Sam. She told the same story so many times it began to feel rote, despite the fact that it had been the greatest tragedy of her life. She was exhausted, but she knew Ridge was more so. He wasn’t even going home anymore. Instead he began sleeping in his office, asking Maggie to bring him fresh clothes from his house each day.
Despite everyone’s exhaustion, the team began to feel cohesive. Ridge didn’t lose his temper with them once, even when everything seemed to be falling apart. It took a massive, group effort to pull off the type of operation they were about to undertake, and everyone was giving it their all. The fact that Ridge and Maggie were physically going to be heading the operation made everything feel more personal and real than usual. Previously all their work had gone toward compiling reports for important people in DC, sometimes the president himself. Now all their work was going toward keeping two members of their own team alive, and everyone was feeling the pressure.
In addition to the blitz of meetings, Maggie was also being prepped for the upcoming event. Apparently the government didn’t trust her fashion sense because they brought in a consultant to dress her, including hair, makeup, and jewelry on loan from Harry Winston.
“The point is for you to stand out and garner attention. In a room full of billionaires, that won’t be easy,” the consultant, Marla, said.
“Are you going to take me shopping?” Maggie asked. She had no idea how that would fit into her already crammed schedule.
“This isn’t an off-the-rack type event. You’ll be wearing a designer original. He’ll be here in…here he is now,” Marla said as a man even Maggie, with her limited fashion sense, recognized. A few years ago he had won a reality design television show and become famous for, among other things, his flamboyant personality.
Maggie wondered if it had all been an act for the show because now he seemed low-key and professional, if rather abrupt. “She’s still dressed,” he said, addressing Marla.
“Strip,” Marla commanded her. “He only has an hour.”
“No one told me there would be nudity,” Maggie said. It had been a long time since laundry day, and she was down to her white cotton granny panties.
Instead of answering, Marla and the designer reached out and began to undress her themselves, quickly and efficiently. In seconds, she stood in the aforementioned granny panties and her most tattered bra.
“I haven’t had much time for laundry lately,” she explained, trying and failing to cover herself with her hands as the designer took her measurements and Marla wrote them down.
“Can you really make a dress in a week?” she tried, though she wasn’t sure if they could actually hear her. Maybe she was invisible now. In her current state of disrepair and nudity, she hoped so. At that, the designer tossed her a glance.
“Honey, I can make a dress for a tank blindfolded while a goat does the cha-cha. But it so happens that I brought some things I already had. We’ll find what works best for you and have it altered. You recently lost weight?”
“Yes,” Maggie peeped.
He clucked his tongue in disapproval. “Buy some new underwear and a bra. These don’t fit. You’re a 34-C now, by the way. Get something with underwire.”
“I’m not really accustomed to strange men talking about my bra,” she said.
“Don’t think of me as a man; thing of me as a doctor for your underwear. And, honey, your underwear are dying. Get help immediately.”
Maggie nodded, feeling more than a little mortified. They let her put her clothes on and go back to work. Apparently whatever he was making for her would be ready on the night in question. In the meantime, she went back to her desk, took a five-minute break, and ordered a handful of new bras and underpants.
“Why are you looking at underwear on company time?” Ridge, who happened to be striding by her desk on his way from yet another meeting, paused and leaned over.
“Because the man said I need new ones,” she said.
“Do I want to know what you’re talking about?” he asked.
She shook her head
“Good.” He leaned closer and whispered in her ear. “Get the blue ones, you look good in blue.”
“You can’t tell me which underwear to buy,” she said.
“I’m not telling; I’m requesting,” he said. He tapped her desk and continued on his way. Once he was safely in his office, Maggie returned to her computer and bought the blue ones.
The night before the event, Maggie called her family. “Steve, it’s Maggie,” her mom yelled away from the phone. “I think he’s outside. Here talk to your brother.”
“Hi, Maggie,” her brother, Johnny, took the phone.
“Hi,” Maggie said.
“When are you coming home? I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. I love you.”
“I love you, too. Hey, did I tell you what happened at work?” Her brother worked at a fast food restaurant, and he viewed every day as a grand, new adventure. Maggie loved how much he loved it, and she was always happy to hear stories, but tonight she felt the desperate need to talk to her parents, just in case. She listened to Johnny’s story and tried to show the proper amount of enthusiasm.
“Hey, Johnny, is Mom still there?”
“No, I think she ran to the store.”
“What about Dad?”
“I don’t know where he is. Outside, maybe. Hey, I love you.”
She felt tears prick the backs of her eyes. “I love you, too, so, so much. Will you do me a favor?”
“Yes,” he said. There was never a qualifier with Johnny, he was always ready to help.
“Will you tell Mom and Dad and Darren and Amelia that I love them so much and give them kisses for me?”
“Yes,” he said. “Hey, put Samson on.”
She dutifully put her dog on the phone and let Johnny talk to him for a while, and then it was time to go. “Don’t forget to tell everyone I love them, okay?”
“Okay. Come home soon, Maggie. I miss you.”
“I’ll try, and I miss you, too, and I love you. ”
“I love you, and I love Samson. Tell him for me.”
“I’ll tell him, if you’ll tell everyone there, promise?”
“Promise,” he said. He blew her a few kisses, and she ended the call. She hadn’t felt so alone or bereft since Sam died, and she dashed at a few tears.
“Maggie? I let myself in, I hope that’s okay.”
It was Ridge. They had exchanged keys a while ago, but he had never used hers. She jumped up, ran at him, and flung her arms around him, knocking him back a step.
“I guess it’s okay,” he said.
“How did you get away?” she asked.
“I just did,” he said. “Are you doing okay?”
She nodded, but she was also clinging to him like a koala. He sat on her couch, and still she didn’t budge.
“You sure you’re doing okay?” he asked.
She nodded again. She didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to cry, she simply wanted to hold him and be held. “How did you know how much I needed you?”
“Intuition,” he said, and she laughed a little.
“I hate it when you read me that way,” she said.
“Really?”
“No.” She pressed her face to his neck and inhaled, drawing strength from the solid warmth of him.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.
“No.”
“Do you want to eat the junk food I brought you?”
That gave her pause. “Maybe later,” she said.
“You just want me to hold you?” he guessed.
She nodded. “And I want to hold you back.”
“Best plan ever,” he said. He secured the blanket around her, kissed the top of her head, and reached for the remote .
“We’re having a moment, and you’re going to watch ESPN,” she said, incredulous.
“We have a lot of moments, and I still want to know the score of the game,” he said.
“Hey, Cam, if things go wrong, I want you to know that…”
He interrupted her. “No. We’re not going to talk like that. Everything will be fine.”
“But if it’s not…”
He grasped her biceps and set her away from him. “Stop it, and I’m serious. I have never lost anyone on a mission, and you’re not going to screw up my perfect record. Got it?”
She nodded.
“Good.” He tucked her back against him and let her go. She pressed her face to his neck again, grumpy and frustrated with his can-do attitude. How dare he be cheerful and optimistic when she was ready to wallow in pessimism and negativity? She did the only thing she could think to do in the situation.
“Ouch, did you bite me?” he asked. He sat back so he could see her face.
“I’m a sleep biter,” she said.
He set aside the remote. “You know what’s going to happen now.”
She stood and began backing away from him. “Cam, don’t do it.”
“Don’t blame me, you asked for it,” he said, standing to his full and impressive height. She turned and sprinted away from him, heading for the safety of the bathroom. He easily caught her in three strides, returned her to the couch, and tossed her onto her back.
“Please, please don’t,” she pled .
“I’m sorry, but I have no choice,” he said, and then he tackled and tickled her until tears streamed down her face and she begged for mercy.
“Say you’re sorry,” he demanded, pinning her arms over her head.
“I’m sorry,” she wheezed.
“Say you’ll never bite me again,” he said.
“Never,” she said, trying to shake the tears out of her eyes and stop giggling.
“Tell me you love me the most,” he said.
“I love you,” she said, and it was as if all the levity was sucked from the room. He was still on top of her, her arms trapped over her head. His face was an inch away.
“The most,” he prompted.
“The most,” she whispered. They locked eyes. His face descended toward hers. At the last moment, she turned her head to look at the floor. “What junk food did you bring?”
He let his head fall onto her shoulder with a sigh, whether it was relief or regret, she didn’t know. “Cookie dough and those gummy bears you like.”
“Nothing for you?” she asked.
“I thought we could share,” he said. He rolled to the side, releasing her from his grasp, though his arm rested on her waist.
“What in our history has taught you to think that?” she asked.
“You’re right, I don’t know what I was thinking,” he said. They shared a smile and the tension was back, pulling and stretching between them.
“I’ll preheat the oven,” she said. She spun away from him and off the couch. Ridge turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling. How long could they reasonably push away what was brewing between them? Eventually it would have to be dealt with, one way or another, and then what? Past history told him the friendship he had with Maggie was far better than any romantic entanglement he’d had with anyone else. Romance messed everything up, and so did attraction. He didn’t want to go there, didn’t want to mar the purity and perfection of their friendship, and he sensed she didn’t, either. How long could they hold out before one of them snapped?
It won’t be me, he vowed. He had passed rigorous SEAL training. If he could do that, he could do anything. He was disciplined, more disciplined than Maggie. It was up to him to be strong for both of them until this stressful time was over. Then, he was sure, everything would go back to normal with her. All they had to do was survive the impending crisis that made them want to cling to each other, and they would be able to breathe again without the threat of death pushing them together.
I can do this, he told himself. I can totally do this. He rolled off the couch to see if she needed help in the kitchen and saw her opening a package. Unaware of his presence, she opened the piece of mail and held a pair of lacy, blue underwear aloft. Wordlessly he turned, went into her bathroom, and locked the door, not trusting himself to leave again until the cookies were ready and the coffee had been poured.