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“I’ve told you I hate that nickname,” she huffs.
“You were about to push Terry out into the world and screaming in pain. I didn’t think you were serious,” I reply with a grin.
“You were wrong,” she snaps with narrowed eyes.
“I’ll make note,” I lie. We both know I call her that often—usually when I’m fucking her. “You coming in or are you going to stand out there and harp at me, Maggie?” I open the storm door and move just enough to give her room to enter.
“Why are you in a towel?”
“Because I was in the shower when I heard someone trying to break my door down,” I tell her, watching as her eyes drop down and look my body over. I let her look, knowing what she’ll see and just wait. Maggie doesn’t hide her reactions—she never has—and it’s one thing I’ve always loved about her.
“Fine, I’ll come in, but I’m not staying.”
“You never do, but you always know I’d love it if you did.”
“That’s rich coming from you right now.” She gives me a disgusted look as she slides past me. Her hip catches my cock which is extended out, still tenting my towel, and even harder now that Maggie is here in person. “Oh my God, put that thing away,” she orders, her cheeks blushing deeper in color.
“Only one way to do that, Maggie. Which I was trying to take care of in the shower when you interrupted me. Now if you’re volunteering your services….” I shrug, not finishing the sentence.
“Were you going to tell me?” she asks practically the minute I close the door.
“That I was in the shower enjoying a little self-love? I didn’t think it needed to be cleared with you Maggie, but if it makes you feel better, I often make the bald man cry.”
She stares at me blankly for a minute while the reference catches up with her. She looks at me, then down at my current tent pole, before bringing her gaze back to my face.
“Sometimes I wonder who the bigger kid is, you or Terry.”
“I’m just saying, sweet cheeks, maybe if you buffed your muffin a little more, that permanent scowl you wear would disappear.”
“My muffin is none of your business,” she sighs.
“You’ve made that pretty clear except when you have an itch that needs scratched,” I respond, my voice sounding weary. That’s the thing about confrontations with Maggie. They’re full of ups and downs and not the pleasurable kind.
“You seem to get the same itches, Bryant. Don’t act like it’s all one-sided.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. I’m pretty sure I make it clear where I stand when it comes to you, Maggie Lucas.”
She just stares at me and then it’s like a wall comes down. She looks at me with so much sadness that it makes my heart ache.
“You’re leaving Mason,” she whispers, and I feel like someone kicks me in the gut.
I expected her to be upset. I didn’t expect her to show me her pain.
Christ. Am I going to be strong enough to go through with this?
8
Maggie
I shouldn’t be here. I should have gone into the office. I should have hopped in the car and drove to the ocean, took a train to the Eastern seaboard… hell, anything but show up on Bryant’s front door.
I don’t know what I’m trying to accomplish…
I can’t breathe, my palms are sweaty, and my heart feels like it’s being compressed in my chest. Bryant Matthews is everything I ever wanted and nothing I fully allow myself to have. He’s the love of my life, the father of my children, and my biggest regret. He’s a pain I can’t get over and a constant reminder of how weak I truly am.
He’s pleasure and pain.
He’s my life.
And he’s leaving…
“I see you’ve been talking to Green,” Bryant growls, rubbing the back of his neck.
“You should have told me, Bryant. You can’t just make these decisions unilaterally,” I sigh, feeling lost. I walk over to sit on his sofa, doing my best not to look around. Looking around reminds me that I have no real part in Bryant’s life now, and though that was by my own doing, it still hurts.
“It’s my life, Maggie,” he says, and this time his voice sounds as worn as I feel.
“It will affect Terry, Bryant.”
I feel guilt at my words because that’s only part of the problem—a large part—but still there’s another reason.
Me.
Knowing Bryant is leaving Mason is already cutting me up inside. I have no right to feel this way, but I can’t help it.
“What about you, Maggie? Will it affect you at all?”
“Bryant—”
“Never mind,” he says. “Forget I asked. As for our son, I’ll still be a part of Terry’s life, Maggie. You know that. I’ve always made him a priority. I’ll fly out when I have long weekends, and he can spend summers with me in Washington. I’ll FaceTime, Skype, whatever the fuck I have to do, I’ll do. You know that I’ll be a part of my son’s life.”
