Marie Harte - Working Out

As they left the gym and walked to their cars together, she continued to study him. His face gave nothing away, but he seemed more distanced from her than they’d been in some time. They’d argued plenty of times before today, but this was the first time she’d felt true unrest between them.

She stopped him at her car before he could walk away to his. “Wait. Mac.”

He turned to face her.

“I’m truly sorry I didn’t tell you. I wanted to, but I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me if it all turned to crap.”

He frowned. “Why would I be disappointed in you?”

“Because you’re so successful. Shelby is a wonder in business, Shane’s some bigwig architect. Mimi and Ron are the cream of the crop in the design world, and Trevor has one success after another. I’m the only loser in the crowd, it seems.”

He sighed and cupped her cheek, and she wanted to sag in his arms and have him tell her it would all be okay. “Honey, you’re not a loser. You’re one of the hardest working people I know. You selflessly took a job with me to get dirt on Shane.”

“Which didn’t pan out.”

“Not exactly.” He smiled, a real grin that put her at ease. “In a convoluted way, you helped get them together. You help everyone else. It’s time you helped yourself, isn’t it?”

“So you’re not mad at me?”

“Mad? No.” He took his hand from her face. “I only want the best for you, Maggie. Sincerely. And you let me know if this art prick gets grabby. I’ll break his hands for you.” He kissed her, in full view of anyone watching. Then he caressed her cheek once more before turning away. “Break a leg and give ‘em hell.”

“Thanks.” She watched him leave, not sure why she felt as if he’d been saying goodbye instead of good luck.

Mac walked away and did his best not to break through his fucking window instead of opening his door and driving away. He’d finally found a woman he wanted to spend his tomorrows with, and she looked to be one foot out the door.

He drove home, feeling dejected and re jected. Not a great combination. After letting himself inside, he locked up behind him and grabbed a beer. He downed it and followed with several more, drowning his sorrows in alcohol. A cliché, but he felt entitled. It wasn’t everyday he met a girl he wanted to collar and call his own. The perfect submissive for Mac. She liked him calling the shots in bed, hadn’t cheated on him or tried to empty his wallet, and was a genuinely nice person. And Maggie looked like a walking ad for condoms. So hell yeah, he’d fallen for her. Only to once again have someone he loved walk out the fucking door.

The ball of self-pity and anger with himself for being such a putz grew. He knew better than to open himself up to someone else. Every fucking time he did he got his heart trampled. But had he learned? No.

He stared at the artwork he’d hung in a prominent spot on the living room wall, where he’d be able to see it from just about anywhere in living, dining or kitchen area of his open downstairs floor space. He wanted eat, breathe and sleep with Maggie Doran in mind. Except now he’d have to go back to daydreams and fantasies.

Reality sucked major ass.

A week had passed without Maggie, and Friday morning arrived. With it came the notion that Mac had lost the best thing that had ever happened to him. He couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, and had barely functioned through Shane and Shelby’s New Year’s Eve party, which he’d left early. His uncle kept trying to counsel him, as if Mac needed another pep talk. The one he’d gotten when Julie had left had done nothing but make his uncle break down in useless tears.

Stupid to be thinking about shit that had gone down nearly twenty years ago, but old wounds lingered. He realized with some surprise that he’d never had a steady girlfriend in all that time. Lots of friends, some with benefits, some not. Much of his time in the Corps had been on the go, and he’d been happy to bond with male Marines in dangerous places, facing life or death situations. Sex on the side came in handy to relieve stress, but otherwise Mac had little time for softness in life.

Then his forced retirement had led him back to Seattle, where he’d figured on putting down roots. With Shane and his family, then Ian, now Shelby and her family, he’d found a new group, new connections. And Maggie.

He rubbed his chest, wishing like hell he could stop thinking about her. She’d called and texted a lot the first day she’d been gone, letting him know she’d extended her stay in Philly. More business meetings and some lawyer she had to talk to. He’d been too hung-over to answer her call, but he’d read her messages. He’d sent her one, telling her good luck, and to remember to knee that dickhead in the balls if he messed with her. They’d chatted via text about New Years, about the East Coast, what Shane and Shelby were up to. But as much as Mac wanted to let her know how much he missed her, he couldn’t say it.

A few days passed, and then she’d stopped sending him anything.

He’d heard a few of her phone messages since then, but then it became too hard to hear her voice. He realized the mistake he’d made in thinking he might have a shot at normalcy. And he—

“Christ on a crutch, get your head out of your ass already.” Ian shoved past him and made a beeline for the coffee pot. “What’s this? Too depressed to even make coffee now? Fuck me.”

A husky feminine voice said, “I thought I did that last night.”

Mac groaned and buried his head in his hands on the kitchen counter, where he’d been trying to get the gumption to go into work today. Instead he now possessed the knowledge that his uncle and Mimi had bumped uglies in his house last night, in the guest bed he’d now have to burn.

“Hey, honey. How about making us some coffee?” Ian smiled at Mimi, and after rolling her eyes at him, she searched for coffee beans and started making the brew. “Now, nephew, we need to talk.”

“Shoot me now.” He refused to look up until his uncle grabbed him by the hair and yanked. “ Fuck. What the hell was that?”

“Watch your mouth. Lady present.” He nodded at Mimi, who wore Ian’s long flannel robe like a queen playing dress up.

“Sorry,” Mac muttered. “I’ll go back to bed. I think I’m coming down with something.”

“No, Mac. I’m sorry,” Mimi surprised him by apologizing. “What with Ron getting so cozy with Justin and me shacking up with your uncle, we’ve all completely left you and Maggie to yourselves. Such a shame.”

Ian nodded. “It’s our fault. No, make that my fault. If you weren’t such a dumbass, if I’d raised a smarter kid, you’d have spent New Year’s Eve breaking in the New Year with Maggie instead of pouting like a two-year-old because you can’t have your favorite treat.”

Mac stared at his uncle in astonishment. “Are you high? First of all, I don’t need your help. I never needed it.”

“Yes, you do,” Ian and Mimi said together.

He ignored them. “Second, Maggie and I had a little fun. We dated a few times, end of story. We’re good. I’m good.”

“Oh?” Mimi raised a brow. “Is that why Maggie’s been calling Shelby asking for advice about you? Is that why my precious blond angel is stressing about you and your feelings when she should be focusing on her career? How selfish.”

Ian nodded. “Selfish.”

“Fu—shove off.” Mac stood up, not needing to hear anymore. He felt bad enough as it was. Now he was to blame because Maggie couldn’t enjoy her success.

Ian yanked him back down, and only the fact that Mimi stood so close curbed Mac’s impulse to smash his fist into his uncle’s face. They’d had a couple of knock-down drag-out fights when he was younger, but he felt more than ready to take the old man on again, and he wouldn’t feel bad about breaking bones this time either. Well, he would, but he’d block off that stupid pity that made him such a pussy. Shit. He used to be tougher than this.