Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Maggie
“That was so much fun,” I tell Jack as we get to my place.
“Thank you again for getting those tickets.” I shoot him a grin over my shoulder as I set my things in their places—putting my keys in their bowl, emptying the clear tote bag I used as a purse and folding it up, throwing away random bits of trash that didn’t make it into a trash can at the game, then setting the clear bag and the game program that I kept score in on the “stuff” side of the dining room table.
Facing Jack, I give him another wide smile.
I’m so happy right now, I could burst. “Do you want a drink or anything?” I wrinkle my nose and look at the fridge.
“I don’t have any beer or wine, but I can offer you water or milk or …
” I hold up a finger. “Oh! I think we still have a few cans of soda left from pizza night.”
He chuckles, closing the distance between us. “I should probably head home. It’s getting kinda late.”
“It’s only a little after ten. We usually stay out later than this.” I poke out my lower lip in a fake pout.
“Awww, unfair.” He makes a T with his hands in a time out signal. “You can’t give me that face.”
Laughing, I stick my hands in my back pockets and shake my head. “What? Why not? I’m not allowed to be sad that you’re calling it a night early? What if I’m not ready to be stuck all alone in my apartment?”
He steps closer until he’s standing right in front of me, and I poke my lower lip out again, though it’s hard to maintain with my smile fighting to come out.
Mirroring my expression, he reaches up and gently presses his thumb against my lower lip.
I stop pouting, but his thumb continues stroking my lip, then his finger moves under my chin, tipping my head up a little.
His eyes meet mine for a moment, and it feels like the world stops spinning entirely.
Like we’re frozen in this moment, not even breathing.
Then he lowers his head, his eyes focused on my mouth.
He’s moving slow enough that I could turn or pull away, but I don’t.
His lips press against mine, soft and warm, and then the kiss is over as quickly as it started.
He pulls back, and I suck in a breath like I’ve been underwater.
But then he looks at my eyes, back at my mouth, and he kisses me again, this time wrapping his arms around me and pulling me close.
I press up on my tiptoes, wanting to be as close to him as I can, wrapping my arms around him as well, gripping the fabric of his T-shirt with my hands.
He kisses me over and over, his fingertips pressing into my back and shoulder, his hands spread so wide they cover me from nape to hip.
His chest is firm against mine, and when his lips finally leave mine, he’s breathing hard, his heart racing in his chest. Mine is too, now that I pay attention to it.
He continues holding me for a moment, staring down into my face. Then, slowly, he releases me, his hands becoming less firm, his arms going lax, and he steps back, clearing his throat. I do the same, tucking a stray strand of hair that escaped my ponytail behind my ear.
Running a hand through his hair, he stares at me, still not saying anything.
Finally, I can’t take the tension anymore, and I offer him a lopsided grin. “Still think you should leave?”
He moves behind one of the dining room chairs, gripping it with both hands until his knuckles turn white.
His mouth opens and closes once or twice before he clears his throat again and dips his chin in a nod that has my heart plummeting through my stomach.
He’s going to kiss me like that and still just leave?
Drawing in a ragged breath, he shakes his head. “Trust me, Maggie, I really want to stay. But I don’t …” He trails off, runs a hand through his hair, then gestures toward the rest of my apartment. “I don’t want to do anything that you’ll regret later. I don’t want to ruin this.”
“Oh,” I say, the word tiny in the silence of my apartment. What else is there to say, though?
I could try to convince him that we could just makeout on the couch for a while because I’d honestly love that right now.
He’s right, though, that some part of me would feel pressure to do more. And I think he can tell that I have a hard time saying no to people. So he’s saying no for both of us. Because he’s worried about me and about my needs.
“Okay,” I whisper feeling raw and closer to tears than I should. I’m not sad. Or upset. More just … overwhelmed.
He groans, reaches for me, pulls me to him again for another soul-shattering kiss, and this time his hands land on my hips, pulling my belly against him, and I feel him growing hard against me. His tongue traces my lower lip, and I open for him with a gasp, sliding my tongue against his.
His hands move up, cupping my face as he kisses me thoroughly before softening to a few small pecks. His eyes move back and forth between mine, his brow low and earnest. “I care about you a lot, Maggie. I hope you know that.”
“I care about you, too, Jack,” I whisper, my hands gripping his forearms.
“I don’t want you to be mad at me.”
I smile. “I’m not.”
He lets out a slow breath and smiles back. “Good. But I should leave so it stays that way. I want to keep seeing you. I know that I said I’d keep things friendly between us, but …”
I squeeze his arm. “It’s okay, Jack. I kissed you back.”
Looking relieved, he grins again. “You did. That’s true.” His eyes stray to my lips again. “I really should go home.”
“If you say so.”
Chuckling, he shakes his head. “I know so. Okay. One more kiss for the road. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
“Okay.”
This kiss is like the first, soft and sweet and over far too soon.
“Bye, Maggie,” he says, one hand on the doorknob. “I had the best time with you. And I don’t even like baseball that much.” With one last flash of his smile, he’s gone.
I stand and stare at the door for a minute. Maybe ten. I don’t really know.
Did that … did that really just happen?
And here I’d thought that I’d actually scared him off that first night. By the time we met up for lunch and he proposed this dating-but-as-friends thing, I was sure he didn’t want to pursue me in any kind of romantic capacity.
But … he kissed me. Really kissed me. And it was amazing.
Wandering into the living room, I flop down on the couch without turning on a light, using only the meager illumination from the dining room.
I’m a little afraid to break the spell of this night, and I’m afraid something as jarring as turning on a light will do it.
It feels delicate, like a soap bubble floating through the air, and the minute it lands, it’ll pop and disappear.
I don’t want this feeling to disappear. I want to wrap it around myself and let it sink in.
I feel … good. Really good. Happy in a way I haven’t felt in longer than I can remember.
He took me to a baseball game. And he didn’t complain once.
He asked questions about finer points that he didn’t understand—little rules that he didn’t know.
He clapped and cheered along with me. He went and got us fresh drinks and snacks when I got hungry during the fourth inning so I wouldn’t have to miss any of the game.
Now that I think about it, he also leaned into me almost the entire time, his arm pressing against mine when I wasn’t writing or clapping. I chalked it up to him watching me keep score, but after that kiss? Was he touching me on purpose to signal interest?
Damn. After that kiss, I really wish he wouldn’t have held back that night we bumped into each other and did that painting class. I could’ve been getting those kisses this whole time?
And maybe … more?
He’s right. I’m not ready for that tonight. But …
I have no objection to the idea on principle. It’s more that I need time to wrap my head around this new development.
The fact that he knows me well enough to realize that and also cares enough to make sure I get it is …
Tears prick at the backs of my eyes, and I blink them away, not wanting to get that emotional. Not right now. Not when I’m so happy.
But I can’t remember the last time a man paid enough attention to me to recognize what I would need without me having to explicitly say it and also cared enough to make sure I get it.
The baseball tickets. The kiss. Giving me time after the kiss so I can process.
A text alert sounds on my phone, and I go get it from where I left it in the dining room, smiling when I see it’s from Jack.
Jack
I know I said I’d call tomorrow, but I miss you already. I just walked into my empty apartment, and I’m mad that I didn’t stay. Or that you didn’t come home with me
I miss you too. But I appreciate that you realize I needed some time after that kiss
My phone rings, and I laugh as I answer. “I thought you said you’d call tomorrow.”
“Do you want me to hang up and call first thing in the morning?”
“Well, no. Not only because I don’t want to be awake that early—and I doubt you do either—but also because we’re already on the phone. It seems silly to hang up already.”
Silence stretches between us as I make my way back to my couch, this time pausing to turn on one of the lamps. Sitting down, I curl my feet up under me.
He clears his throat. “So, uh, we’re good?”
Chuckling softly, I nod. “Yeah. We’re good.”
He lets out a relieved breath. “Okay. I know I said?—”
“Jack,” I cut in, “it’s okay. I remember what you said.
” I run my hand over the couch’s upholstery, watching my fingers move back and forth.
“When you said all that, about keeping things friendly and I could call it quits at any time, was that because you thought I wouldn’t agree to go out with you again? ”
“Yeah,” he answers, his voice hoarse. “Pretty much. I could tell that you were trying to give me reasons to run away the first time we went out. And I get why. I still don’t think you would’ve agreed to go out with me every week if I’d just asked you out on a normal date, though.”
I hum, neither agreeing nor disagreeing because I don’t want to admit that he’s right.
“Would you?” he pushes.
Chuckling again, I have to shake my head. “Probably not. I would’ve gone to lunch with you, though. And you might’ve eventually convinced me to go out with you on a random evening again. It was easier to agree when it was presented as some kind of business agreement, though.”
He laughs. “Not that you ever let me hold up my whole end of the deal. I’m supposed to be paying for childcare, and instead you just made it so he has a sleepover with his grandparents once a week.”
Laughing too, I shrug. “Well, it seemed like the best choice. I just needed the push to decide to make it happen, I guess. And I don’t know.
Maybe I should’ve set something like that up sooner when it became obvious his dad wasn’t going to take his time.
It’s just … I didn’t want Liam to feel like I didn’t want him around either, you know? ”
“I get it,” he murmurs. “You’re doing the best you can with what you have. That’s commendable, really. I know I’ve said it before, but you really are a good mom.”
“Thank you,” I say quietly. It’s easier to hear this time. Doesn’t hit me in quite the same raw, tender spot as the last time he told me that. It’s nice to hear someone say it, though. I do my best, and sometimes … sometimes it just doesn’t feel like it can ever be enough.
“Maggie?” Jack says, distracting me from my morose thoughts.
“Yeah?”
“I’m glad you said yes.”
A smile curves my lips. “Me too.”