Dear Mr. Reed,
Congratulations. We are pleased to inform you that out of hundreds of applicants, you have been chosen for the AmeriCorps Eli Segal Fellowship…
Griffin exhaled. He was sure there was more written on the document, but all his mind kept looping on replay was Congratulations.
This had been nothing more than a whim, applying for the fellowship. The same as ditching his father’s job offer and joining AmeriCorps. Now he had two whims adding up to major life changes, which should be great. It would be damn near perfect if he hadn’t neglected to tell Maggie he was doing it. But what were the chances of him winning the fellowship when only one person got it a year? It wasn’t worth planting the seed of moving to D.C. when the odds were so not in his favor.
…After the terms of your current AmeriCorps post are served, we welcome you to Washington, D.C., for your thirteen-month position as the next Eli Segal fellow. We expect your confirmation of acceptance no later than January 14th. Congratulations on entering the next phase in your country’s national service. We look forward to seeing you in Washington.
Excellent. Two weeks to make a decision that would affect not one life…but two. And a trip to another country in between. No pressure.
The apartment door flew open, and he acted on instinct, hurriedly folding the paper and shoving it in his back pocket as Maggie beelined for the bathroom.
Shit.
She knelt over the toilet and heaved, and in seconds Griffin was there with what he knew she needed: her emergency migraine medication injection.
“Hey, Pippi,” he said, his voice gentle as she collapsed on her butt against the shower door. Tears streaked her face as Griffin pushed a tangerine wave behind her ear. “I got ya, sweetheart,” and he held up the syringe for her to see.
Maggie nodded as he slid her long skirt up over her knee, rested the syringe atop her bare thigh, and pressed the button. He still winced when he had to do it, but Maggie didn’t even flinch. She was a pro…or more likely in too much pain to register the needle piercing her skin. She was now a three-year survivor of a brain aneurysm. Griffin hated that days like today would forever be a part of Maggie’s life, yet he admired her acceptance. Her strength. She had to live her life differently than she did a few years ago, dealing with chronic headaches and short-term memory loss, but she was no longer living in fear of What if? He just thanked his lucky stars he was home to be here when she needed him.
He stood to wet a washcloth with cold water, then dropped down next to his girl, putting an arm around her and leaning her head on his shoulder.
“How’s this?” he asked, his voice soft and low as he rested the cloth on her forehead. She closed her eyes, even though the light was off, and forced a small smile through the pain and nodded.
This wasn’t the norm, but it also wasn’t a surprise. Maggie had had a final exam this morning, an art presentation this afternoon, and then worked a shift at Royal Grounds. To accommodate her first year back with a full class load, two professors allowed her to finish her final projects during the holiday break. But sometimes too much was just too much, especially with her health history. So he held her and waited for the medicine to take effect. Fifteen or twenty minutes usually did the trick, and as much as he hated seeing her like this, he always appreciated a few quiet minutes with Maggie in his arms.
“Thank you, Fancy Pants.”
Griffin stirred, apparently having dozed—lulled by her breathing and the crash from the adrenaline rush of the letter and Maggie’s entrance.
“Look who’s back,” he teased, and then kissed the top of her head.
“Don’t let your lips go any farther than that,” she said as she maneuvered out of his arms and stood. “I need to brush my teeth, do the whole post-migraine cleanup.”
She smiled weakly, and Griffin joined her where she stood.
“You need to lie down,” he said. That was the drill. Migraine, meds, nap. Then she would be good as new.
“I need to shower,” she insisted.
He raised a brow. “I can help you with that.” The corners of his mouth turned up. But he was only teasing, expecting her to say no regardless of how much he’d love to be with her. Griffin always felt the need to reassure her in these moments, to show her that her health—any small setbacks—didn’t scare him.
Maggie turned on the sink and splashed cold water on her face. Then she loaded her toothbrush with a decent helping of paste, and then pointed the toothbrush at him.
“Start the water, and make it hot, please. I want to burn away this day.”
Griffin obliged while Maggie started to brush.
“That bad, huh?” he asked.
She held up a finger as she finished her routine, which always ended with a minute-long mouthwash finale.
“The school stuff was okay,” she said. “Just draining. I mean, I couldn’t have studied more for that final, you know? But the coffee house was nuts. And Miles took the night off to work on his dissertation, and…” She let out a long breath and looped her arms around Griffin’s waist. “And I’m just glad to be home with you, where everything is quiet, and normal, and I can finally breathe.”
Griffin swallowed hard, feeling the folded piece of paper burning a hole in his pocket—singeing Maggie’s need for normal. Tonight was not the night to shake up her world. Instead he dipped his head toward hers, letting his lips brush her minty fresh mouth. She responded, her lips parting and inviting his tongue to mingle with hers.
Maggie’s hands left his waist, making their way to the button of his jeans. Maybe he was thinking about this shaking-up-her-world thing all wrong.
“Are you sure?” he asked, not able to mask the hoarseness of his voice.
She unfastened the button and tugged down his zipper, resting her palm on his erection. He hissed, bracing himself against the shower door as steam enveloped them.
She kissed him hard, hand gripping him with the same intensity.
“After today?” She kissed him again. “There’s nothing I want more.” She laughed quietly. “This and then sleep. Lots of sleep.”
She helped him out of his jeans, her eyes darting to the floor as she saw the letter tumble from his pocket as the pants fell from his hips.
“What’s that?” she asked, and Griffin’s eyes met hers. He lifted her Royal Grounds T-shirt over her head, loving the way she raised her arms to let him do it.
“God, you’re beautiful. Do you know that?”
She bit her lip as she smiled.
He drank in the vision before him, ginger waves resting against her freckle-dotted alabaster skin. The weariness in her eyes did nothing to mask the soul-deep beauty they always held when they looked at him. She was really his, and Griffin still couldn’t believe it. He would do nothing to fuck this up, even if it meant closing the door on Washington. He didn’t need the fellowship, hadn’t even thought he’d get it. But he needed Maggie. That went without question.
He kicked his jeans and the letter out of the way.
“It’s nothing,” he told her, almost believing the lie as he unclasped her bra and covered her breasts with his hands. “But you, Pippi? You’re everything.”
Chapter Three
Miles
“This was a mistake.” Miles paced as he watched Jordan and Noah approach the gate. “I have never felt like a third wheel with you guys, but I’m a fifth wheel now. Why did I let you talk me into this?”
He was on his way to Europe for a wedding, which had sounded great when Maggie made him the offer. He was long overdue for a vacation, and he certainly didn’t want to shirk his best-friend duties, but now he wasn’t so sure. He didn’t even know Duncan and Elaina. Had never met them. And now here he was, off to what would be a romantic weekend for the happy couple, for Maggie and Griffin, and for their friends Jordan and Noah—two more people he’d never met, by the way. Romantic weekends away really weren’t Miles’s thing, especially when he was flying solo.