Chapter 38
thirty-eight
MAGS
Mags put on a cheerful face for the drive home, but inside, she was reeling. The moment her dad had announced that he wasn’t fine with her and Jonathan sleeping together, her world had tilted ever so slightly off its axis.
She couldn’t place her finger on exactly what her father’s tone of voice had broadcast. It definitely wasn’t anger or disappointment but… She bit her lower lip, intent on unearthing the serious note that had been unmistakable.
Sensing her mood, Jonathan brought one of her hands to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “Stop worrying, Mags,” he whispered in her ear. “If your dad isn’t satisfied with our answers tonight, then we keep trying until he is. Not sleeping in the same room doesn’t make us any less together.”
She let out a shuddering breath but nodded.
He was right, and this level of insecurity didn’t suit her.
She may not be the smoothest talker, but what she did have was mettle.
She wouldn’t flatten under pressure. She might explode, but she wouldn’t back down, especially when it was something as important as her feelings for Jonathan.
Not that she had shared those feelings with him. Or him with her.
Perhaps her unease stemmed from not knowing what Jonathan’s answers would be to her father’s questions. Hell, she didn’t know what her answers were going to be.
Sighing internally, Mags knew exactly how she felt. Her indecision was whether or not she’d be truthful. Or would the truth scare Jonathan?
They were so new, and she was cautious.
Perhaps too cautious. “You’re right. We’ll figure it out.”
“Together,” he said with enough conviction that Mags’ chest warmed.
Firming her resolve, she made up her mind to face this family moment as she had all other obstacles, which calmed her nerves.
Once they were seated on the living room’s comfy couches, her dad handed out drinks, water all the way around for the tired group.
He sat forward, her mom by his side. “I understand that your mom and I have been gone for a while, so I’d like to know when you two…
started things,” he said, choking a bit on the last words.
Right to it then. Mags glanced at Jonathan, who took the hint and answered. “We’ve only been officially dating for a few weeks. It took a while to convince your daughter to trust me.”
Mags winced. Her dad was a researcher, and trust, or the lack thereof, was just the type of rabbit hole he would enjoy digging in.
“Why wouldn’t she trust you?”
She hated being right.
Jonathan winced, but Mags knew him well enough to know that he would never be anything but a hundred percent honest.
“I hurt Mags at a New Year’s Eve party almost three years ago.”
Her mom’s eyes widened, but her dad looked furious. “What the hell do you mean you hurt her? Physically?”
That put Mags’ back up. “Christ, Dad. I expect chest-beating and jumping to conclusions from Uncle Colly and Thomas, but not from you. You owe Jon an apology for even thinking he would raise a hand against me, let alone saying it out loud.” She was so angry her body vibrated with it.
Jonathan put a hand on her leg in an attempt to calm her. Good fucking luck.
As quickly as the anger had come, it flowed out of her dad. He shook his head and rubbed his face roughly. “Margaret is right. I apologize, Jonathan. I didn’t think it was violence, but I did jump to…I don’t know, unwanted sexual advances, which is just as bad. I’m truly sorry.
“I wouldn’t change being with your mother these past few months.
Not for anything. However, I find myself out of sorts.
Being so far from my girls has been hard.
Hearing that you’ve started a new business, live with a man I’ve never met, have a new boyfriend, and that there might be a delusional killer after one or both of my children is a lot to take in. ”
Her mom put an arm around her husband and hugged him tight to her side. “I’m sorry, Charles. I asked a lot of you, and by not telling our family, I made you shoulder my treatments alone.”
Several tears streaked down her mom’s face, gutting Mags and her father if the sick look on his face was any indication.
“Aileen,” her dad said softly, forcing her chin up to meet his eyes. “Where you go, I go. Nothing less. Don’t insult our marriage by indicating that supporting you isn’t my top priority. Is that clear?”
In a watery voice, her mom answered, “It is.”
He nodded but kept his arm tightly around his wife. “The conduct I’ve exhibited this evening, Jonathan, is regrettable and doesn’t reflect my usual character. The truth is, I feel like Margaret grew up, and I missed it. It’s a father’s regret and probably not an unusual one.
“But back to my original inquiry, how did you hurt my daughter?”
Jonathan had stayed quiet while her parents hashed out their feelings, but the spotlight was back on him. He sat forward, squeezing her leg once more before folding his hands at his knees.
“I kissed Mags during the New Year’s countdown almost three years ago.
I knew she liked me, and I liked her even though she was a few months shy of eighteen.
I knew I’d screwed up by seeking her out, and like an idiot, I tried to make her believe that our kiss meant nothing and immediately left her side to kiss someone else.
“I regretted it immediately, but the damage was done. She’s barely tolerated me since, wrecked an ungodly number of my dates, and enjoyed using her sharp tongue to flay me. Well, up until I begged her to give me another chance.”
Her parents found his retelling amusing. “Traitors,” she muttered. That made them laugh harder.
Her mom sat straighter, adjusting her scarf. “Do you love each other? That’s really all your dad and I care about.”
Mags’s mouth went dry. Her lips stuck to her teeth, making her resemble a dog begging for treats. “That is an extremely private question,” Mags replied, a chiding tone in place.
“No more personal than my youngest daughter sleeping with a man she’s only been dating a few weeks and under my roof.” Her dad wasn’t angry, but his typical good-natured smile was absent.
Matching her father’s serious mien, Mags made sure to meet her parents’ eyes straight on. “Jon and I haven’t discussed our feelings to that extent.” She made the mistake of looking left. Jonathan was frowning.
“We haven’t discussed our feelings, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have them. I have them,” Jonathan declared.
It was Mags’ turn for widened eyes and a slackened jaw. Did he mean…was he admitting…?
Completely ignoring her parents, Jonathan twisted on the couch to face her. “Don’t you have feelings, Mags? For me.”
She’d been wanting this, to know exactly how he was feeling, but he hadn’t said anything specific yet. “I do.” There. Committed yet noncommittal.
If anything, his frown grew more pronounced in response to her answer while the moonlight accentuated the creases on his face, setting off both his white hair and the amber tones of his eyes. Her heart momentarily faltered before racing uncontrollably in her chest.
They could have been on a deserted island or a crowded London street—or in her childhood home sitting across from her parents—and it wouldn’t have mattered. They were locked in a battle of wills. The question was, did it matter who said I love you first?
Jonathan made the question moot. Without hesitation, he took both her hands and held them between their knees. “I should have told you before now, but I’ve been afraid. I love you, Mags.
Well. Well then. That simplified things. “I love you too…have loved you for years.”
Her parents stood and announced they were off to bed. She and Jonathan never took their eyes from one another.
“That’s good.”
“Very good,” she replied just as evenly.
The house was quiet in that fragile, late-night way that made every small sound feel amplified.
The lamp in the corner of the living room cast a low amber glow over the couch where Jonathan and Mags sat sideways, knee to knee. Upstairs, a floorboard creaked once, then settled. Her parents’ bedroom door had clicked shut several minutes ago.
Still, neither of them had moved.
Jonathan’s white hair caught the warm light, almost silver against the dim room. His amber eyes flicked toward the hallway, then back to her. “I can’t believe you love me, that you still love after all the bullshit,” he murmured.
Mags huffed a quiet laugh, her bright hazel eyes sparkling. “No one’s more surprised than me,” she teased.
“I want us to live together.” His voice dropped. “I don’t want to be apart, and I would rather not sleep at Eze’s.”
She shifted slightly until their thighs were touching. The contact felt louder than it should have. Heat slid through her stomach.
“You’re nervous,” she teased.
“I’m in your parents’ house,” he replied, gaze steady on hers. “That seems like an appropriate response, especially since I want them to like me.”
Her smile softened. “They’re asleep or on their way.”
“Mm.” His hand rested on the couch cushion near hers, close but not touching. “That’s not the reassuring detail you think it is.”
The air between them thickened, charged. She could feel the warmth radiating from him. Feel the way he was holding himself back. She had no plan to abstain. His admitting that he loved her had made her want him desperately. She wanted the words again while he took her body.
“You’re thinking too much.”
“And you,” he said quietly, “aren’t thinking enough. We can surely wait until we’re back in Dublin.”
But his hand moved.
Slowly.
His fingers brushed hers—just barely. A question. A warning.
She didn’t pull away.
Instead, she slid her hand over his, lacing their fingers together. “You know, I’m not good with waiting,” she whispered.
The shift in him was immediate.
Jonathan’s jaw tightened, amber eyes darkening as he leaned closer. His free hand came up, brushing a loose wave of brown hair away from her face. His knuckles skimmed her cheek, then lingered.