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“Wow. I’m glad they’re good. I wanted to reach out but…” She licks her lips. “Well, I didn’t have any way of contacting them.”
Her pain is clear. After our little stunt in Vegas, she was basically cut off from everyone she’d met since I took her along on the dangerous journey. The twisting sensation in my chest is a clear sign of the guilt I’m feeling about hurting her. “I’m sorry,” I repeat.
She shrugs. “What’s done is done. I have a new life.”
I can tell it’s not what she wants to say, but she doesn’t want me to think she’s affected at all, even though that’s far from the truth.
“How’s Ford? And Gemma?” she asks, changing the subject.
I shake my head. “Ford is good, I think. He’s on a mission where I can’t get ahold of him, so I can’t say for sure.” I pause, wishing I could contact my friend because I hate not knowing what’s happening, but I can’t exactly give him a hard time about it either, given that I’ve done much worse. “James is good, too. She’s still doing her job, quickly moving up the ranks. I bet she’ll be director before we know it.”
Margaret smiles a real smile at this, the first one since she saw me. “I bet. She’s so smart. I liked her a lot.”
“I could give you her number if you want.”
“Really?” Another smile. I’d get her the fucking president’s number if she’d smile at me like that again.
“Yeah, no problem.”
“Well, it’s been fun,” Hernandez says, standing up. Rev follows his lead, and I wonder how I forgot they were here. “But I’ve got a five AM alarm and a lot of sleepin’ to do.”
We say our goodbyes, and when the waitress comes by, I’m surprised Margaret orders another beer. I do the same and relax slightly now that it’s just us. It seems she’s happy to sit here, even with me.
“So…” she starts, no doubt wondering how to move forward. “How’s the PI business?”
I smile and indulge her. “It’s good, actually. I’m enjoying the change of pace.”
“I’m surprised.” She nods. “I thought you would’ve stayed in the FBI as long as possible.”
“I had more important things to do with life.” My words are stated as simply as saying I like sugar. It’s a fact, easy. I see her throat move as she swallows, and I move in closer. “How about you? How do you like being an officer?”
Margaret animates before my eyes, and she rambles in a familiar way. She tells me how much joy she gets from her job, how she loves being able to protect innocents while doing it with authority. She has a passion for this work that you rarely see in most law enforcement, and I can’t help but fall in love with her damn hard as she speaks.
I knew I was in love with her years ago. I knew it, and I didn’t do the right things to make sure she understood that. I wasn’t allowed to do much about it when I was being debriefed, and I wasn’t allowed to doing anything about it when I was in Russia.
I wish I could have made her understand it before we got pulled apart.
“Well…” She stands after three beers with me. Most of the bar has cleared out, though I didn’t realize it was happening, too enraptured in her to give a shit. “I’ve got work tomorrow, and I already broke my rule about two drinks on a work night.” She gives me a shy smile, and I stand with her.
“I’ll walk you home.”
“That’s not necessary, Liam.” She waves her hand around. “It’s only a couple blocks.”
“Still.” I shrug, pretending it’s only for me, and lead us out of the bar. I already know which way to go, and I wait for her to come out the door. When she does, I hold my hand out to hers. It’s instinctive, and now that the gesture has been made, I can’t take it back—not that I want to.
A buzz zaps into my hand when she takes it, and I tuck it close, walking her to her apartment.
We walk in silence, both taking in the night. There are busy people still on the streets, idiots coming out of venues and bars, drunk and stupid, but I don’t care about them. I only care about the girl whose hand is wrapped in mine, the girl who’s letting me in.
Even though it’s small, it still fucking counts.
When we reach her door, I take a minute and wish I could go up with her, wish it was our normal. I wish me going home with her at night was something we did as a couple, wish it was a ritual: drinks after work, walk home together, go to bed together, ravish each other like the first time, and wake up together in the morning.
Instead, I turn toward her and open my mouth to take a chance, to ask her out. I want to do it as a normal person, not an undercover FBI agent, not as Dan Cliff, but as Liam Stokes.
“Go out with me.” I don’t add anything to it; I don’t have to. I want to be with her. She already knows that, but the only way to get there is to take the first step.
“Liam…” Her eyes are guarded and she bites her bottom lip.
I reluctantly shift my gaze away. “Just one date. One date, whenever you say.” I gently pull her closer and she’s right underneath my chin now. I grip her hip with my free hand and hope she can see how serious I am. “Give me one more chance.”
“I don’t know.” Her voice is low and husky. She’s trying not to act affected by me, but she is.
“One more shot.” I squeeze her hip. “Please.”
She closes her eyes, and I can’t tell if it’s the alcohol affecting her or the close proximity of our bodies, but she drags in a deep breath and then refocuses her eyes on mine. “Just one.”
