Click.
She listened to the rest of the messages, each one more or less the same. He missed her. He wanted her back. He was sorry. He didn’t love Elizabeth. He didn’t want to marry Elizabeth, and he never had, and she kissed him, not the other way around. It was all a ruse devised by his mother.
Of freaking course.
And she’d fallen for it.
Maggie collapsed into the rocking chair, since her legs would no longer support her, and stared up at the bright blue sky, phone held to her heart. He didn’t love Elizabeth. He wasn’t with her—and he wanted Maggie to come home to him.
God, she wanted to, because she loved him, and maybe he loved her, too.
Sure, he hadn’t said as much, but he’d left her ten messages begging her to come back because he missed her. And he’d taken a break from work, flown out here, and tried to get her to come back when she refused to answer his calls.
If that wasn’t love, she wasn’t sure what was.
Chapter Eighteen
Benjamin made his way toward the door as he fought through the crowd at the Met, trying his best not to look utterly bored and miserable. But he probably failed because he was both of those things, and he wasn’t in the fucking mood to pretend otherwise. While he used to be good at hiding his feelings, lately…well, he sucked ass at it.
He missed Maggie and her smile and her laugh and the way she made him laugh. Hell, he missed every damn thing about her. He’d been falling for her before she’d climbed under his table and announced he was her fiancé, and he’d fallen even harder after that. There was no coming back from that, and he didn’t want to.
He just wanted her to come back—into his arms and never leave again. But she made it pretty damn clear she wouldn’t. She was finished with him. Over him.
And he’d never be over her.
Paying off her parents’ debt like that had been a gamble. Going to see her had been an even bigger one. She didn’t like when he threw his money around, but they had been about to lose their farm, thanks to his mother. He couldn’t just do nothing. He’d done the right thing.
But she hated him. And he loved her.
Wasn’t that just fucking lovely?
Pushing the doors open, he stepped out into the cool night air, pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked for a reply from Maggie. A reply he wouldn’t get, but that didn’t stop him from hoping like a damn fool anyway. He’d sent her another text a couple of hours ago. She’d read it, but hadn’t replied.
The story of his life.
Dropping his phone back into his pocket, he sighed and leaned against the railing, staring out into the night. The snow fell from the sky in big flakes, and covered the streets below. Central park was lit up with Christmas lights, and that had always been his favorite part of the elaborate decorations, but he couldn’t enjoy it tonight. The city was picturesque at Christmas, but he didn’t even care.
He missed Maggie too damn much.
He hadn’t been lying when he told her he would wait forever if he had to…but he’d rather it not be that long. They’d already lost enough time together. “I’m coming back to you, and this time, I won’t leave until you love me, too,” he muttered under his breath. “And now I’m talking to myself, like you. Perfect.”
Taking his phone out, he called her. It, of course, went to voicemail. “I shouldn’t have left yesterday. I shouldn’t have listened to you. You might hate me, and you might never want to see me again, but I’m going to change that. Just watch me.”
He laughed and rubbed his jaw.
“I miss you so much that I’m talking to myself now. Yeah. You heard me right. So, guess what? Tomorrow, I’m getting back on a plane, and I’m coming out there. I’m going to find you, kiss you, and never let you go again. And I’m going to make you love me as much as I love you, one way or another, even if it takes a million years. So…there. See you soon. Merry Christmas, darling.”
He hung up, smiling for the first time in a week and a half. He was winning his Maggie back. One way or the other…she’d be his. For real, this time.
No make-believe. No pretend rings. Just them.
The door opened, and he stepped to the side to let whoever was exiting enjoy the balcony. When he smiled at them, ready to pass, he froze. “Andrew? What are you doing out here?”
“I wanted to talk to you.” Andrew shut the door and leaned against it, his gaze focused on Benjamin. “After what Mother pulled, I feel I owe you an explanation.”
Benjamin nodded. “Yeah. Okay.”
“I never wanted to take your job, and when Mother had that dinner, I had no idea what I was walking into until it was too late. Next thing I know, she’s talking about motions, and people were agreeing with her, and I froze.”
Benjamin tried to ignore the dull pain at the idea of his brother silently letting people plot his termination, but it was impossible. “It’s okay.”
“But I never would have done it. You have to believe me.” Andrew stepped forward. “I wouldn’t have taken your job. You blame yourself for what happened with Father, but I never did. It happened quickly. It wasn’t your fault you weren’t there.”
“I know. And I believe you.”
Andrew blinked. “You do?”
“Yeah.”
He sagged against the door again. “Oh, thank God.”
“All’s well that ends well, right?” Benjamin asked.
“Right.”
“Did she tell you her other secret?” he asked.
Andrew cocked his head. “No. What secret?”
“Turns out, I’m not hers.” He laughed. “I’m his secretary’s son. Dad had an affair, apparently, and got me out of it. Mother covered it up out of shame.”
Andrew’s jaw dropped. “I had no idea. Are you okay?”
“Yeah. If anything, I’m happy.” He shrugged. “It’s not as if she loved me. She didn’t.”
“That’s not true,” Andrew argued weakly.
He stared at his brother, not arguing. They both knew she hated him. “It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m leaving soon, to find Maggie.”
Andrew perked up. “Speaking of which, she’s—”
“I’m going to get her back.” He stared at Central Park, smiling for the first time in a long time. “No matter how far I have to go, or what I have to do, I will get her back, and she’ll forgive me. I won’t live my life as miserable as our mother was.”
“I bet it won’t be as hard as you might think, brother.” Andrew opened the door, smiling. “Go get her.”
Dragging a hand through his hair, he went back inside, squeezing his brother’s shoulder as he passed. The second he stepped foot in the crowded ballroom, women his mother had “personally invited” converged on him, like ants fighting over the last crumb at a picnic. They were wasting their time. He wasn’t interested.
Not unless one of them was Maggie.
“I got you a whiskey,” a blonde said.
“Can we dance?” a brunette asked. “I love this song.”
He tugged on his bowtie and scanned the crowd, looking for the coat check area. “I’m sorry, but I—” He cut off mid-sentence, because he caught a flash of midnight blue. Midnight blue that looked an awful lot like… “Maggie.”
It was her. It had to be.
She had her back to him, but he’d recognize her anywhere. And she was wearing his dress. The one he’d bought for her to wear tonight. Her hair was swept up, and tendrils slipped out in artful disarray. She looked hauntingly beautiful.
And he missed her so damn much.
“Maggie,” he repeated, unable to believe she was here, in the same room as him. “Maggie.”
“No. My name’s Julia.” A woman reached up and rested her hand on his arm. “Julia Edgerton.”
“Let go of me.” He shrugged her off, his focus locked on to that flash of blue in the distance. “I have to go.”