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“That’s a beautiful story.” I think Lucas lied to me for the first time because that story was batshit crazy.
“They’re the most loving animals. A farmer can’t raise one by itself though. It’ll die from loneliness.”
“I’ve felt like that for years. Searching for something but never finding it. Then I met you and started to feel alive again. Wanting things I’d thought I didn’t deserve and would never have.”
“It was serendipity, sweet Lucas. I believed in it for you and us.”
37
Maggie
After our first night together in Lucas’s childhood bed, we woke in each other’s arms before Esmé opened her eyes. He kissed me, holding the back of my neck tenderly. We didn’t care about our morning breath, which smelled like old Peach Schnapps.
I hitched my leg over Lucas’s hip, coming in contact with his version of a good morning hello, and I had an idea of how to return his greeting.
“I want to make love to you.” I rose up, kneeling next to him. His sexy scruff and bad boy, tousled hair made me wild for him.
“Roll over on to your back, handsome,” I whispered, not wanting to wake the baby.
His smirk was wicked, approving of my plans to have my way with him. He was also on his back in the blink of an eye.
Since we’d fallen asleep au naturel, all he had to do was put on the contents of our last foil pack. I eased on top of him, straddling the part we needed to meet for the occasion. As we became one, his hands went to my hips to steady me. His fingers traveled my skin, and mine over his. I moved my hips in slow circles, enjoying the tortured roll of his eyes.
“Maggie. You’re killing me.” But I knew my actions brought every cell in him to life. Who needed coffee when we had sex like this for breakfast?
I gazed down into his eyes. The creased lines at the corners had softened overnight. He appeared ten years younger and brighter. Those secrets he’d kept inside had worn on his exterior too, disappearing after he shared the truth with Chloe and me.
I cupped the side of his face, wanting to say the three words I’d waited to confess to the right man—the one who’d pledge his undying love to me. But it was too soon. Bending over, I brought our lips together to silence the words on the tip of my tongue. We needed to let our feelings grow—or his at least—so I kept that part of my heart, but gave him everything else.
Since Lucas left Iron Gate two months ago, he’d read every how-to-be-a-father-to-your-daughter book imaginable. He had me time how quickly he could change a diaper and joined a Welcome to Fatherhood class in midtown. He’d grown into a stinking adorable dad for his equally adorable daughter.
But he’d also grown restless without anything to do with the type A energy that had driven his success. He didn’t need another dollar to add to his billions, so he started a foundation with J.J., helping to fund transportation for individuals with traumatic brain injuries. Many times, TBI patients missed important doctor appointments because loved ones had to work and they couldn’t drive themselves.
Tonight, there was going to be a gala marking the official public introduction of the C.A.R Foundation—Cars Aiding Recovery. It was being held at the Metropolitan Museum of Art.
No big deal, I kept telling myself, even though the exclusive celebrity Met Ball was held in the same place. There would be a VIP red carpet along with press and photographers. But the biggest freak out for me was Page Six, the celebrity section of The New York Post. They promised to be front and center at the gala to share the evening, and I would be standing next to Lucas when the cameras started flashing. My knees felt wobbly.
I sat down on Lucas’s bed—I was pretty much living at his apartment now—and took a deep breath. I reached for my phone and called Tessa, my sweet bestie. She was the one person who knew how to calm me down when my mind ran off in all crazy directions.
“Hey, Maggie.” Hearing her voice brought my heart rate down a bit, but I still felt shaky.
“Girl, I’m kind of a mess here.” I lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m nervous my dress is going to be wrong and I’ll end up getting ridiculed for being a nobody—or worse, a gold-digging nanny. Help.”
“Don’t worry about that. You all make such goo-goo eyes at each other, it’s almost sickening. No one will mistake that for being fake. You two are going to dazzle them.”
“You think so?” I bit my lips, fretting about everything.
“I really do. And remember to take a shot of bourbon. Something about that warm liquid gives me courage.”
