It’s wrong to admit my first thought is to take him up on his offer, so I won’t mention it. Maddox is who he is because of his family. I don’t want to force him to learn who he is without them. It will kill him more than the other title he doesn’t deserve to have.
Waterworks fill my eyes for an entirely different reason when Maddox whispers, “Make a wish.”
We resembled novices at the skating rink, pros at the firing range, purchased boots and cowboy hats at a real-life working ranch on the way to a late lunch, then ate at the cutest little diner in the middle of the boondocks after skimming rocks across the freshwater creek at the back of the café. It has been a perfect day, and Maddox has made it more divine by finding the only cupcake in a hundred-mile radius with a candle on the top.
The trickling of diners in the café breaks into rapacious applause when I blow out the candle as requested. I think that’s the end of the embarrassment, but Maddox has other plans. With him taking the lead on vocals and the dining staff harmonizing his ballad, he commences singing happy birthday.
I wish I could declare the Walsh brothers can do anything. Unfortunately, Maddox must be tone death. Otherwise, what excuse does he have for his horrendous singing voice?
“Okay, okay,” I say with a laugh when Maddox’s fourth ‘hip, hip, hooray,’ thunders through my eardrums. “That’s enough.” I drag him into our booth before planting my mouth on his. “Thank you,” I whisper over his quirked lips. “Today has been perfect. My best birthday by far.”
He nips at my bottom lip before muttering, “But…”
I hate doing this, but I don’t have a choice.
My uncle’s schedule waits for no one.
“We have to go.”
“We don’t have to go.” Maddox inches back before he drifts his baby blues between mine. “We could stay here forever. Can’t you see it?” He drags his hand across the funky-looking café. “You could be the head chef, I’ll be your apprentice, and everyone will soon learn to only dine here on the days you’re rostered on.”
I laugh even when I shouldn’t. “You’re not that bad of a cook.”
I toss a dirty napkin into his face before barging him with my hip, demanding he scoot out of the booth. Even with a much bigger fight on his agenda at the end of next week, his fight tonight is the feature. If he’s late, there will be no chance we’ll escape with a set of fake IDs and the hope for a fresh start.
“When you win, dinner isonme.”
The sexual innuendo in my comment guarantees Maddox won’t deny my underhanded demand I attend tonight’s match. It’s my birthday. He said I can do whatever I want on my birthday. Although I hate the idea of seeing him get hurt, I want to support him as he has supported me for the past six weeks. He’s a fighter, so my ‘job’ as his girlfriend is to be a ringside cheerleader.
“Last chance, Demi,” Maddox says when we reach the dusty lot at the front of the café. “Demi’s café is for sale. Who knows how long it will remain on the market?”
After taking in the ‘for sale by owner’ sign stuffed in the front window, I drag my eyes over the delipidated building, tube-lighting that no longer works, and the wonky ‘D’ at the front of my name on the sign hanging above the entryway door before lowering them to Maddox. It is ridiculous for me even to contemplate what he’s suggesting, but I’d be a liar if I said it hasn’t piqued my interest. “Can I sleep on it?”
“That’s close enough to a maybe for me.” With his smile as big as the low-hanging sun and his arm wrapped around my shoulders, he guides me back to Saint’s car. I won’t lie. I wish we were still on his bike. His hand barely left my thigh during the second half of our travels today, but there’s nothing like snuggling up to his back and cocooning him with my warmth.
I smile like a fool when the reasoning behind Maddox’s thirty-minute bathroom break between lunch and dessert makes sense. He picked wildflowers for me. They’re spread across the bench seat in Saint’s car, along the dashboard, and a handful of wayward ones made their way to the floor.
“The day’s got away on me. I didn’t have time to get you a pres—”
I stop his apology by kissing the living hell out of him. He has nothing to be sorry for. My day has been perfect. He woke me up by going down on me, cooked me an amazing breakfast I only cringed at twice while eating, spoiled me at the rink, then showed me that although he can protect me, I can also protect myself.
He was right. I feel safer knowing that.
“Thank you. I love them.” I almost tack another three little words onto the end of my statement, but mercifully, the lemonades I downed with lunch catch up with me. “Do I have time to pee?”
“Again?” Maddox laughs before he nudges his head to the outside washrooms.
If that isn’t proof how crazy he is thinking we can restore this place, I don’t know what will convince him.
“You good?” I stray my eyes from Maddox making his way to the ring to Rocco, who despite his constant stirring, was requested to stay by my side by the very man he uses me to annoy. “You keep wiggling and shit. Like you’re not a big girl who knows how to use the potty.”
My eyes roll skyward. “It’s nerves. I’m nervous.”
“Nerves…right.” Rocco scrubs a tattooed hand over his bristle-covered jaw while asking, “Who gets nervous when they’re backing a winner?” Before I can tell him to shut up, the expression on his face shifts from teasing to shocked. “Do these nerves make your stomach a little queasy? Are you super tired? Or better yet, can you remember the last time you had your period?”
“What the hell, Rocco! Why are you asking me that?” My words have barely left my mouth when the truth smacks into me. “No… I’m not…pregnant. Why in the world would you think that?” I pant even faster as a confession I shouldn’t be telling anyone tumbles out of my mouth. “We’ve never used protection. Not once.”
When my endeavor to fill my screaming lungs with air overtakes the crowd’s chant excited the fight is about to begin, Rocco gives lying a try, clearly unaware he’s crap at it. “All right, calm down. It could be nerves.” He bumps me with his shoulder before smiling a huge grin. “When I cruise by on Tuesday, I’ll bring somespecial supplies.” He whispers his last two words. “They’ll tell you one way or another if it’s nerves in your stomach or something else.”
