“If we do this,” she said slowly, swallowing, “you can’t tell anyone. It’s just you and me and Dizzy. No one else.”
“No one else.”
“And you have to make the arrangements yourself.” Her tone said there was no way in hell she thought I would.
“No problem.”
“Right,” she said.
Zero faith in me.
Jesus. When, exactly, had I fucked things up so royally with this girl?
No secret she’d been keeping my shit together for years, but that’s because I liked her keeping my shit together. Didn’t mean I was a fucking moron.
“I make the arrangements,” I said carefully, slowly, so she couldn’t pretend she’d misheard me. “We go do this. No excuses, no backing out. No Maggie May overthinking things bullshit. No blaming me if they don’t have an Elvis impersonator available to officiate our shit or whatever. You say yes, you own it. You follow through with it. And I promise you, we’ll make that prick of a father of yours eat his fucking words.”
She narrowed her gray eyes at me, but I saw the sparkle in them. Tears. The idea of sticking it to Dizzy was just too sweet to resist.
And maybe it wasn’t the best marriage proposal in the history of man, but it would have to fucking do. Not like I planned this shit.
Planning was for Maggie. I was more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants type of guy. Hadn’t failed me yet. I was still alive. Plus, I had Maggie beneath me, her heart pounding against mine.
“Either that, or I kill him,” I told her casually, running my thumb across her lip. “Your call, Maggie May.”
“You don’t have to kill him,” she said, sniffing just a bit. “He’s a douche but he doesn’t deserve to die. I already lost my mom and my stepdad. I don’t need to lose him, too.”
Shit. That prick didn’t come close to deserving this girl’s love or forgiveness.
“Have it your way,” I said. “But that’s not a yes. I’ve gotta hear it from your lips.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes.”
“Fucking finally.”
I took my time getting up, re-arranging my throbbing dick in my jeans. Yeah… probably shouldn’t have told her we could do this without sex.
Not sure what I was thinking on that one.
I looked down at her, lying there in her robe all askew. Her dark hair spread out around her face. Her wide gray eyes looking up at me, a little hazy from champagne… so fucking pretty.
I shook my head.
“Now get your ass up, woman, and go put on the best dress you’ve got.”
Ten minutes later I had a car service booked and I was almost ready to go.
It took all of one phone call to the concierge to make the arrangements. So maybe I didn’t do it all myself, but I didn’t give them my name, just our room, which was in Maggie’s name. If she didn’t want me to tell anyone, I could do this shit incognito.
Felt a little strange not bringing my boys into it, though. Jesse, Jude and Brody had been like brothers to me since we were kids, and getting married was one of those things I would’ve thought they’d be here for, either to have my back, or to talk me out of it.
No fucking way I wanted to be talked out of this thing with Maggie, though.
If she couldn’t talk me out of it, no one could.
I walked into the master bathroom, shaking my head. Maggie. Fucking ball-buster.
And that’s when it really hit me.
Holy fuck. I was marrying Maggie.
Maggie was marrying me.
I stopped short as I felt that fucking thing overtake me, gripping me so tight I could barely breathe—my heart jackhammering like it did in that final moment just before I stepped onstage… when I always had a brief, private attack of self-doubt, never quite knowing how I’d be received.
Would they love me, or would they turn away?
I knew this was some screwed-up subconscious shit about my parents fucking off on me at such a young age. Also knew this was why, deep down, I wasn’t good enough for a girl like Maggie. And maybe I’d never be. Because there was something wrong with me. Something missing.
Something gone, lost, that might never come back.
I started to sweat, just like I did in that moment backstage, the roar of the crowd loud in my ears.
How many times had I dreamed it?
Stepping out onto an empty stage, to find the venue empty, the sound of the crowd still thundering in my head and not a single person in the place. No one backstage, either. Even my band was gone. I was alone, but I could hear the concert rocking on the other side of some wall I could never get to.
The show had gone on without me.
Shit.
Just shit.
I splashed cold water on my face and just stood there leaning over the sink for a long, long minute, gripping the counter and letting the water drip down.
Did Maggie love me?
Would she?
I had no idea. No. Fucking. Clue.
I looked at myself in the mirror, right into my own eyes, and maybe it was wrong but I knew I didn’t care. Didn’t care at all what her reasons were for marrying me. As long as she did.
My eyelashes were wet, clumped together and dark, making my eyes look like ice. When I was a kid and I got over hating myself, I’d learned it was a good face. I’d never had a problem with women. Sometimes they had a problem with me…
Didn’t care.
But Maggie? Maggie was different.
She’d always been different.
Ever since I met that girl, other women had been nothing but placeholders. Since that night, so many years ago now, when I cornered her and told her what I wanted… and she shot me down for the first time of many. Yeah. Just bed warmers, in the place of the one girl I really wanted.
And maybe I didn’t plan to propose to her tonight, but it sure as fuck wasn’t the first time I’d ever
